Деон Мейер - Cobra

‘Do you think The Flower is going to answer her cellphone while she’s driving?’

Griessel slowed down and moved to the left lane. They would have to wait for her to pass and then try and get the message to her through the window. All a waste of time. They had to get to Stellenbosch. He was deeply concerned about Nadia Kleinbooi.

The Metro train station at Woodstock had recently been refurbished. The concrete and steel building was painted the green and blue of the sea, but it was already looking shabby.

Tyrone barely saw it. He waited on the platform for the train to Bellville, and thought about his scheme. He knew he could not make it work on his own. He needed an assistant.

A pickpocket has no friends,Tyrone. You can’t trust anyone, that’s why. Nobody. So, if you want to be the life of the party, if you want to make friends and influence people, go and sell insurance.

He would have to buy a friend. And that never comes cheap.

He would have to exchange the four hundred British pounds for rands. And that was always a losing deal, because the Nigerian money-changers ripped you off. The exchange rate was thirteen rand to a pound. If you got eight, you were lucky.

Three point two K was a lot of money if you wanted to buy friends. But he must spend the minimum, because if it all worked, he and Nadia would be on the run. And that was going to be expensive.

In his mind, he worked through the plan, and he thought, jirre , there are a lot of holes in this scheme.

But it was the only thing that could work.

They sat around Brigadier Musad Manie’s round conference table. Colonel Zola Nyathi twirled a pen thoughtfully in his hand. Griessel and Cupido looked like guilty schoolboys. Mbali looked angry.

‘Benny, did you remove or destroy evidence from the Waterfront scene?’ The Camel’s voice was heavy and solemn.

‘No, Brigadier.’

‘You did not delete the video material?’

‘No, Brigadier.’

Manie looked at Mbali. ‘Is this true?’

‘Yes, sir. Benny did not touch any evidence whatsoever.’ She said it carefully, as if choosing her words like steps in a minefield. Griessel felt a rush of gratitude towards her. He knew how painfully honest she was, how this technical skirting of the truth would conflict with her principles.

‘I want you to understand that this is a very serious matter. The national commissioner phoned. From the office of our minister. According to the Department of State Security you deliberately wiped out video material, and hindered a task team from SSA in their investigation of a matter of international importance. International security Mbali. There’s a lot at stake here. Not only the reputation of this unit and the SAPS, but of our country. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘So I want to ask all three of you again: did you or did you not destroy evidence at the Waterfront?’

‘Brigadier, why would we do such a thing?’ asked Cupido.

‘Answer my question.’

‘No, Brigadier, not one of us did,’ said Griessel, following Mbali’s strategy. Because Lithpel Davids had deleted the evidence. And the brigadier hadn’t mentioned the sergeant’s name.

Manie looked at them, one after the other. ‘If I find out that you have lied to me, I will suspend all three of you. Is that clear?’

They confirmed their understanding with grave nods.

‘And do you understand that you are officially off this case?’

‘Which case, sir?’ asked Mbali.

‘Excuse me?’

‘There seems to be more than one case, sir. There is the Franschhoek case, and the Waterfront case . . .’

Griessel didn’t want her to say anything about the Schotsche Kloof case. Not now, not here . For various reasons, of which one was that all hell would break loose. And the other one was that Zola Nyathi had perhaps told Manie about possible bugging devices. And that Manie was playing along.

‘Both, Mbali,’ said Manie. ‘You are to hand over anything and everything that you think might aid our colleagues at the SSA, on both these cases. Am I making myself very clear?’

It was the emphasis on ‘both’ that gave Griessel hope.

‘Yes, sir,’ said Mbali.

‘Benny? Vaughn?’

‘Yes, Brigadier,’ they said.

‘Very well. You are excused.’

Nyathi gestured to Griessel, an index finger pointing downwards.

Griessel understood.

Griessel led the way down the long corridor of the DPCI building. He was in a hurry, his mind on Nadia Kleinbooi. She was the same age as Carla, his daughter. Still a child, though students considered themselves adults. They would have to go and look for Nadia, and they would have to watch over her. They would have to use her as bait, because that was all they had. And time was running out, and there was so much uncertainty, because he didn’t even know if they really should drop it. Apparently, Musad Manie’s tirade had been for the benefit of the possible bugging devices. He hoped. Because if Manie was serious, they had a major problem.

And there was another thing gnawing at him, a profound sense of unease, a hunch, but he hadn’t had time to formulate it yet.

They walked down the stairs, and out into the basement. Griessel stood beside the clubhouse and waited for them all to form a circle.

‘Colonel, we need to tell you . . .’ began Griessel, but Nyathi stopped him with a ‘No’ and a shake of the head.

‘We’ll really have to let it go, Benny. The pressure on the brigadier is immense. Just let the whole thing go.’

Griessel wanted to tell him about Nadia Kleinbooi, but it was Mbali who said, ‘No, sir, we can’t let it go.’ Not in her usual decisive tone, the one that Cupido confused with arrogance. Her voice was strange now, almost despairing.

Nyathi looked at her with a frown. ‘I don’t think you understand, Captain. It’s a direct order.’

‘I am sorry, sir, but I am not going to stop investigating this case.’

All three men stared at her in disbelief. Nyathi was the first to come to his senses. ‘You’re not serious.’

‘I am very serious, sir.’

‘Mbali, do you want to be suspended? Do you want to get the whole lot of us fired?’

‘Let them try.’

There was still no confrontation in Mbali’s voice. It confused Nyathi. ‘Captain, you are very, very close to insubordination. What the hell has got into you?’

‘Sir, I am wondering the same thing about you and the brigadier . . .’

‘Captain, I am now officially warning you that you are going too far. One more word, and you are suspended.’

‘Sir, you can suspend me or you can fire me, I don’t care . . .’

Nyathi’s eyes narrowed and he drew a breath to respond, but Captain Mbali spoke with a passion and conviction that none of them had heard before. ‘My father used to tell me stories of how he did not dare use his phone, because the security police were always listening. He was part of the Struggle, Colonel. Back when the secret services conducted all the important criminal cases, when they told the police what to do. When everybody was spying on each other. And everything was hushed up by the media. And the public knew nothing. Today it is happening again. Now Parliament is passing this Security Bill. Why? Because they want to hide things. Now this. State Security eavesdropping on us, and taking over a criminal case. Just like in the apartheid times. We are destroying our democracy, and I will not stand by and let it happen. And it will, if we let it. I owe it to my parents’ struggle, and I owe it to my country. You and the brigadier too. You owe it to all the comrades who gave their lives for the cause. So, no, I will not stop. And if you try to stop me, I will go to the press and I will tell them everything.’