The Deranged Visitor (eBook)

An SA Police Series Suspense Story, Book 8

Meiring Fouche, Pieter Haasbroek (Autoren)

Pieter Haasbroek (Herausgeber)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
119 Seiten
Pieter Haasbroek (Verlag)
9780001021556 (ISBN)

Infos

The glint in his eyes was madness.

The coffee in his hand was a weapon.

And his escape from a moving train was just the beginning.

In the desolate heart of South Africa, Constable Jurie Slabbert's routine prisoner transport derails into a nightmare. His charge, the powerfully built Casper Ferreira, isn't just a criminal, he's a cunning, vengeful man returning to the land that broke him years ago.

With a searing attack and a daring leap, Ferreira vanishes into the wilderness, only to resurface at a remote farmhouse. He takes the Human family hostage, turning their home into a fortress of terror. Unarmed, injured, and alone, Slabbert is the only one who can pursue him into the unforgiving landscape.

But this is no random act of violence. Ferreira's true target is the family's innocent daughter, Renske, the object of his twisted, long-burning obsession. A desperate chase unfolds into a deadly game of cat and mouse where one man's duty collides with a madman's terrifying endgame.

This high-octane blend of classic action and psychological thriller will keep you on the edge of your seat. Perfect for readers who love relentless suspense and high-stakes adventure.

The SA Police Series just got a whole lot creepier! The Deranged Visitor takes you into a new realm of psychological suspense in this thrilling eighth book, brimming with the signature blend of pulp, action, and mystery. The unwelcome guest has arrived. Continue the adventure now!

Textauszug

8. THE DERANGED VISITOR

Chapter 1

Constable Jurie Slabbert attempted to concentrate on the moves he had to make on the draughtsboard, but he was scarcely succeeding, for he could not tear his eyes away from his prisoner's hands.

They were two large, powerful hands.

From time to time, he could not restrain himself from looking up at the man opposite him. Casper Ferreira was a strong man. If he were merely strong, that would have been enough, but in addition, he was also half-deranged. The wheels of the passenger train to the north struck the joints of the rails rhythmically. There was a gentle lullaby in the rhythm, and Jurie Slabbert wished he could go and rest, but Casper Ferreira was apparently not yet planning to do so.

As he made another move on the draughtsboard, Jurie wondered why they had chosen him, of all people, to take Casper Ferreira to Pretoria, to the asylum for the insane. They had warned him that Ferreira was a dangerous man. For more than an hour, they had told him what sort of man Ferreira was. He suffered from a bewildering form of insanity. One moment he was perfectly calm and as normal as any other person, but the next he was completely unhinged. Then he could be not only very troublesome but also dangerous. They had explained to Jurie that they were choosing him to accompany Ferreira because he himself was a strong man. He was barely twenty-five years old, but he had a large, sturdy physique. Casper Ferreira concentrated solely on the draughtsboard. It seemed as though the rest of life was lost to him. There was a peculiar glint in his eyes. The glint of madness. At this moment, it appeared to be of the utmost importance to him that he win this game of draughts. Jurie would let him win, too, for in Cape Town they had told him that he must provide Ferreira with as much normal distraction as possible, preferably draughts, which he loved. But, in heaven's name, they had told Jurie, never beat him. Ensure that he always wins. It would soothe him and keep him calm.

Mechanically, Jurie felt for his holster. Yes, his revolver was still there, at least. He felt uneasy, even fearful, of the moment when he would have to handcuff Ferreira before they slept. It was, however, unavoidable. He could not risk falling asleep in this compartment with a madman who had free use of his hands and feet. That was why he had the two sets of handcuffs with him.

What time was it now? Yes, it was already eleven o'clock. For a moment, Jurie wondered where they were. He looked out of the window and, from the surroundings, it seemed to him they had just cleared the Heksrivier mountains. Soon they would reach the great plains that stretched past Laingsburg towards Beaufort-Wes. The train was moving quickly now. The clatter of the wheels was a fast, sustained rhythm.

Jurie made another move, an intentionally foolish one to give Ferreira a chance to beat him again. He wondered how many games of draughts they had played by now. Then he peeked at Ferreira again. He had the impression that the man was restless. He was watching his prisoner so closely because he knew that it was in the last half-hour that Ferreira had begun to grow agitated. Why had they not rather kept the man in Cape Town? Perhaps because in Pretoria he could receive certain treatment he needed. Jurie was surprised by his own thoughts. They jumped from one thing to another. Then he would look at the man’s strong hands. At the sturdy arms. Then again at the faint blue eyes that could sometimes flare up so dangerously.

When he looked up at Casper Ferreira, he noticed that he too was looking out of the window.

“What are you looking at, Ferreira?” Jurie asked. “You keep looking out of the window. What is the reason for it?”

“Am I not allowed to look?” asked Ferreira. He was now experiencing one of his lucid periods again.

“Yes, you can look,” said Jurie. “Of course you can look.” This was also one of the lessons they had taught him before he left Cape Town. He must always agree with Ferreira, no matter what he said.

They resumed their game and with his strong right hand, Casper Ferreira made deliberate moves on the board.

Jurie reached out his hand to make the next move, but then Ferreira seized his wrist. It felt as if an iron clamp had been locked around it. Jurie looked up quickly.

“And now?” he asked. “What are you doing now, Ferreira?”

“I am tired of playing,” said the prisoner. “I will only beat you again, anyway. I feel like some coffee.”

He looked out of the window again and Jurie noticed that this time he was watching very intently.

There was something else that Jurie noticed. The train was no longer moving so fast. It had apparently taken a long incline and was now travelling more slowly.

This attitude of the prisoner's did not sit well with him. This staring out of the window made him think of many things. He did not know from one moment to the next what Ferreira might be capable of. They had warned him that the prisoner could sometimes react like lightning. That was why Jurie was grateful that the windowpane where Casper Ferreira was sitting had been closed. Earlier this evening, it had taken all his patience and tact to convince Ferreira that it was necessary to slide the window shut. An open train window could be dangerous now. But is a windowpane enough protection, Jurie wondered.

“You say you feel like some coffee?” said Jurie. “Well, then let's have coffee, man.”

Ferreira smiled. He smiled that vacuous smile of a young child.

Jurie stood up and, while watching Ferreira from the corner of his eye, he took his wicker hamper down from the top bunk. He had a large flask of coffee in it, and Ferreira knew it. He placed the hamper in front of Ferreira.

“Will you get the coffee flask out for us, Ferreira?” said Jurie.

Ferreira was only too eager to do so. It was then that Jurie saw his chance. He took the leather strap of the blind and tried to pull it up. But then Ferreira flew up.

“What are you doing now?” he asked.

“I want to pull up the blind,” Jurie answered.

“You're not pulling up any blind,” said Ferreira threateningly. “I want to look out. I don't want to sit here as if in a prison cell. Why do you want to pull up the blind?”

Constable Jurie Slabbert had no answer to that. He let go of the leather strap and sat down.

“Alright, Ferreira,” he said. “I won't pull up the blind if you don't want me to.”

It seemed as though Ferreira barely heard him this time, for he was looking outside again. He was looking intently outside. It almost appeared as if the man was making a survey of the terrain sliding past them. Then he sat down. His eyes had changed. Apparently, he had forgotten all about the coffee flask. His hands lay in his lap and in his eyes there was a deep abstraction.

“Don't you want to drink coffee anymore, Ferreira?” asked Jurie. “A few moments ago you were so concerned about coffee.”

“Yes, yes, I still want to drink coffee,” the prisoner answered. “You must pour.”

Jurie leaned back against the seat. “You pour for us, Ferreira.” This was another thing they had taught him regarding the prisoner. Take an interest in him. Let him do things. Keep him busy.

“Why must I pour?” asked Casper Ferreira.

“The coffee tastes better to me if you pour it,” said Jurie, his right hand resting lightly on his holster.

Casper Ferreira smiled. It was that same vacuous smile that betrayed nothing at all.

“Where are you taking me?” Ferreira asked, and there was something pathetic in the question.

“I am taking you to Pretoria,” Jurie answered.

“To do what?”

“You need to be treated there, man.”

“How long will they keep me there?”

“Until you are better. Perhaps it won't even take too long.”

Casper Ferreira looked so fervently at the young constable that Jurie became uncomfortable. His one hand was clamped around the coffee flask and with the other, he slowly and carefully unscrewed the cap. Jurie took the two drinking cups from the hamper and set them down before Ferreira.

Now Ferreira had the flask open. He filled the first cup halfway. He saw that Jurie, in turn, was sitting by the window, looking out. Jurie's train window was wide open. On his side, the glass pane was not slid up.

The black coffee was steaming hot. Jurie Slabbert liked his coffee boiling hot.

That is why Constable Jurie Slabbert was keenly aware of how hot the coffee from the flask was when Casper Ferreira, with a wild swing of his arm, flung the cup of coffee straight into Jurie's face. It hit him mainly in his eyes, on his forehead, on his cheeks, and it streamed down his nose and over his mouth.

The assault of pain was so unexpected and brutal that he half-jumped up and staggered towards the door, his hands pressed to his face.

The coffee burned his eyes so badly that he was unable to open them. He swung around and tried to see. But his eyes were so full of tears and hot coffee that he could make out almost nothing.

He could discern just enough to know that Casper Ferreira's seat was empty.

Ferreira had acted quickly and with forethought. He had caught the constable with something he had not expected. For a few moments, Jurie had relaxed his guard. Unfortunately, this time he had not thought further than the end of his nose when he asked the prisoner to pour the coffee. At the same moment that he had hurled the hot coffee into Jurie's face, Ferreira had sprung up, vaulted over the small table, and simply dived out of the train window. He fell very hard. The...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 18.9.2025
• Übersetzer: Pieter Haasbroek, Ai
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror
• ISBN-13: 9780001021556 / 9780001021556