The Golden Dragon (eBook)

A Fabel Retief Thriller, Book 1

Meiring Fouche, Pieter Haasbroek (Autoren)

Pieter Haasbroek (Herausgeber)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
114 Seiten
Pieter Haasbroek (Verlag)
978-0-00-084868-0 (ISBN)

Infos

One dagger murdered a man in his shop.

A second, identical dagger, has vanished.

Along with it, a secret worth killing for.

In the bustling heart of Johannesburg, brilliant former detective Fabel Retief is pulled from his peaceful Lowveld farm back into the shadows he desperately tried to escape. An opulent antiques dealer has been impaled by an exotic Eastern dagger, and the crime scene whispers of a much deeper, darker story that spans continents and decades.

The investigation spirals into a deadly game of cat and mouse when the victim's beautiful, enigmatic daughter is abducted by a phantom-like killer who is always one step ahead. Fabel is plunged into a mystery involving a legendary sunken treasure ship, the Golden Dragon, an unforgivable betrayal on the untamed coast of Angola, and an ancient map that promises a fortune... or a watery grave.

Fabel isn't just hunting a killer. He's hunting a ghost from the past, a master of disguise who will stop at nothing to protect his secrets. With his own life on the line, Fabel must unravel the truth before the hunter becomes the hunted.

A gripping international action thriller that will keep you guessing until the final page. Perfect for fans of Wilbur Smith and classic adventure mysteries.

If you love pulp, action, and mystery, don't miss the start of the Fabel Retief series. The Golden Dragon awaits, but so does danger. Begin your adventure now.

Textauszug

1. THE GOLDEN DRAGON

Chapter 1

DAGGER FROM THE EAST

It is just after two o’clock in the city centre of Johannesburg. The great stream of pedestrians has now diminished, for most people have returned to their offices, to their factories, and to their other places of work. The streets are almost empty, compared to their state during the busy lunch hour. The beautiful shops in Commissioner Street, Eloff Street, Rissik Street, and the others are now calm, with a normal flow of shoppers.

In certain shops, it is now quiet. Such is the case in the small but opulent antiques shop of Ulrich Oortman in Commissioner Street. It is a lavish, air-conditioned shop, pleasantly warm in winter and delightfully cool in summer.

It is a shop in which great treasures have been brought together from all corners of the world. There are precious Buddhas from the East. There are ceremonial weapons from all over the world. There are old chests that were once used by seafarers of bygone eras. Magnificent knives used in bygone years. Old timepieces. Jewels, brassware, silverware, valuable furnishings.

And on the floors of Ulrich Oortman’s shop lie precious, wall-to-wall carpets.

On this calm afternoon, Ulrich Oortman is sitting in his small office behind his desk. He is immediately aware when someone enters his small but precious shop. He is completely alone here, for Ulrich Oortman does not like to keep an assistant. He makes enough money with few items that he can manage the shop alone. He knows how long it takes him to teach any assistant what the various items in his small shop cost. And most assistants just give one aggravation.

A peculiar man, this Ulrich Oortman. A man who has amassed a great deal of money over the years. Although his shop is so small, he is regarded as one of the most successful businessmen in Johannesburg. The business community knows this, but the general public does not, because Ulrich Oortman is a private man. He hardly ever speaks to anyone, he just comes in in the morning, has the native clean his shop, and in the afternoon he locks it and goes to his lavish apartment somewhere in the northern suburbs.

At the moment Ulrich Oortman is sitting behind his desk on this particular afternoon, a man is walking down Commissioner Street. Not a particularly remarkable man, nor very conspicuous. He walks at his ease, almost leisurely, but in his eyes there is something alert and observant. He watches people walking towards him and he watches people walking away from him.

When the man reaches Ulrich Oortman’s shop, he stops and quite normally, without drawing attention, without being conspicuous, he looks at the treasures displayed on velvet in Ulrich Oortman’s shop window. The man standing there gets a cold sensation as he stands before the door. He looks to the left, he looks to the right, and he sees that this part of the street is reasonably deserted at the moment.

He wipes his face once, and then he enters Ulrich Oortman’s shop.

At that moment, as the man steps silently over the threshold and passes the display cases into the shop, two men are sitting about four hundred paces away in a luxury restaurant, drinking their coffee.

The one is lithely built, strong, dark-haired with two wine-brown eyes, strong-lined features, and a prominent forehead. He is an attractive man, intense, cheerful, and full of inner strength. His name is Fabel Retief. His companion is rather slight and short, with a well-formed body and two intelligent eyes. He is Captain Melt Myburgh, of Marshallplein. A captain in the detective service.

They are in a bit of a hurry with their coffee because it is time for Captain Melt Myburgh to go back to his office, but he and Fabel have been chatting so pleasantly that they have wasted a bit of time with their meal.

“Do you never feel the urge to come back to Marshallplein, Fabel?” asks Melt Myburgh.

“Yes, sometimes,” answers Fabel. “It seems to me that once a man has been a detective, it gets into his blood. But I think I prefer my farm in the Eastern Transvaal. I am successful there. It is peaceful, and I would not gladly part with it. As exciting as my career in the detective service was, I still think I prefer farming.”

“You are a lucky man,” says Melt. “Many a day I long for the countryside. That is where I grew up. But, oh well,” he says with a sigh, “the detective service is my career and I will have to continue with it until I retire one day. It was good to chat with you again, old Fabel. Many a time when we are busy with a thorny issue here, I get the urge to call you to come and help.”

Fabel Retief just smiles modestly and takes another sip of his coffee. Although he smiles modestly, he feels that Melt Myburgh has good reason to pay him such a compliment. Before he decided to resign from the detective service and take over his father’s beautiful tropical fruit farm in the Transvaal Lowveld, the bachelor Fabel Retief was one of the most brilliant detectives in South Africa.

He solved some of the most mysterious crimes, unravelled some of the most baffling murders, so that his reputation became known even abroad at the famous Scotland Yard, at the American F.B.I., and at the French Surete. Sometimes Fabel Retief feels a little wistful for having left the detective service, even though he is only a man in his early thirties. When he thinks back on his career, on his rapid and spectacular promotion, he often wonders if he should not have stayed in the detective service.

But when he is back on his farm, when he looks at the vigorous growth of everything, when he sees how neatly everything is arranged, then he knows again that his happiness lies at Saffier.

“Do you have anything interesting at the moment?” asks Fabel.

“No, it is rather quiet,” says Melt. “Some days I feel as if I do not earn my money.” Melt Myburgh smiles and his blue eyes sparkle.

“Then you can almost hope that something happens, can’t you?” says Fabel.

“Yes,” answers Melt, “one could almost hope that something happens again.”

The two men have finished their coffee, and for them this has been a pleasant hour because in the past they were not only good colleagues but also intimate friends.

It is just as they are standing up that a waiter comes hurrying towards them. He bows charmingly and asks Melt if he is Captain Melt Myburgh of the police.

“That is correct,” says Melt.

“Would you be so good as to come to the telephone, Captain?” asks the waiter. “There is someone who wishes to speak with you urgently.”

Melt Myburgh walks quickly behind the waiter. Fabel watches the quick, energetic movement of his body.

Melt is gone for about three minutes. When he returns, and Fabel looks at him, he sees immediately that his old colleague’s face has changed drastically. He is no longer the cheerful Melt of a few moments ago. His face looks stern and tense. He immediately picks up his cap and his officer’s baton. “I am afraid I must go immediately, Fabel,” he says. “Something has happened.”

Fabel stands up quickly.

“It almost seems as if fate heard our words from a little while ago,” says Melt. “Something has happened now, and it looks like something big. Marshallplein just called. A murder in Commissioner Street.”

“A murder?” asks Fabel. “In Commissioner Street? In broad daylight? This time of day?”

Melt nods. “Yes,” he says, “a murder at this time of day in a shop in Commissioner Street. Are you coming along?”

“Yes, I think I will come along for a bit,” answers Fabel, because there is something about his friend’s face that interests him, something that gives him the impression that this is no ordinary murder. Not a case where a native entered a shop and stabbed someone with a knife or shot them with a revolver.

They hurry out of the restaurant, take to the street, walk two blocks, then they turn into Commissioner Street and almost immediately they see the crowd of people in front of a shop.

When they arrive, they find that a few constables have their hands full keeping the curious away from the shop.

It is the shop of Ulrich Oortman.

When Melt Myburgh and Fabel step inside, Melt immediately takes command. He orders a detective sergeant to lock the door of the shop. A constable leads them to Ulrich Oortman’s small office.

There they find a doctor and two policemen.

Ulrich Oortman, a tall, slender man with a grey head and a strong nose almost reminiscent of an eagle’s beak, is sitting dead in his chair.

He is slumped forward on his desk. Apparently, he fell forward just as his attacker struck him. Melt and Fabel approach the precious antique desk and Melt Myburgh shoots a question at the doctor. “Is he dead?”

“Yes, he is stone dead,” answers the doctor. “He was dead when I came in.”

Then Melt asks a question of one of the policemen. “Shot?”

“No, he was not shot, Captain,” answers the policeman subserviently, steps forward, and leans the bent body of Ulrich Oortman backwards.

Melt Myburgh frowns deeply. Even the hardened Fabel Retief gasps for breath.

It is a gruesome scene they behold, and also a very unusual one. No, Ulrich Oortman was certainly not shot. In his narrow chest, through his expensive shirt, in the middle of a bright red bloodstain, gleams a long, thin dagger with a beautiful hilt. If the scene were not so horrific, Fabel Retief would surely have noticed the hilt first. That hilt is of pure, glittering ivory, and set into the ivory are several beautiful precious stones, a ruby, an emerald, and a...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 28.9.2025
• Übersetzer: Pieter Haasbroek, Ai
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror
• ISBN-10: 0-00-084868-9 / 0000848689
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-084868-0 / 9780000848680