Деон Мейер - Cobra

He answered.

‘What makes you think it was Nadia?’ Griessel asked the young man in the leather jacket.

‘They said on Twitter it was a coloured girl,’ he said, but his attitude had changed. He was suspicious now.

‘The girl who was abducted?’

‘ Ja . If you’re from the police, how come you don’t know about this?’

Griessel barely heard him. ‘Do you have a cellphone?’

‘Of course I have a cellphone.’

‘Could you please make a call for me?’

‘Don’t you have your own phones?’ He took a step back.

Griessel took his wallet out of his jacket pocket, and showed him his SAPS identity card. ‘ Meneer , please, will you make a phone call. My phone is out of order.’

The student’s body language was antagonistic now. He studied the identity card, then said, ‘Sorry, but it looks fake to me.’ He started to move away, towards the stairs.

Griessel sighed, opened his wallet and put it away. ‘I am going to ask you one more time to make a call.’

‘Now you’re getting weird.’

Griessel unclipped his service pistol from the holster, and pointed it at the young man.

‘What is your name?’

The student froze, raised his hands. Waxen. ‘Johan.’

‘Take out your phone, Johan.’

The student stood there with his hands in the air.

‘Drop your hands, take out your phone and call the police station.’

The mouth opened and shut twice, then he realised what Griessel had said. ‘You want me to phone the police?’

‘That’s right. Stellenbosch Station.’

With visible relief he said, ‘I don’t know the number. Can I google it?’

‘I’m at the corner of Wilshammer and Kruskal,’ said the man over the phone.

Tyrone stared down the long passage, over Charl Malan Street and the alley between the stalls, but there were too many people, he couldn’t see Nadia or the man. And first he had to give Bobby new instructions, a new plan, cobbled together with a slim chance of success, but he was out of time, he had no more choices.

‘Wait there,’ he said. ‘Stand in the middle, between the stalls, so that I can see you. So that I can see that Nadia is OK.’

Silence.

‘We are standing in the middle.’

‘OK,’ said Tyrone. ‘I will call you back.’

‘ Merde ,’ said the man.

Tyrone didn’t know what that meant. He rang off and told Bobby, ‘Listen carefully.’

35

The student phoned the number of the Stellenbosch SAPS.

‘Tell them you want to talk to Brigadier Piet Mentoor,’ Griessel said.

The student followed instructions with a voice of new-found authority.

‘Now tell him to hold for Captain Benny Griessel of the Hawks.’

The student looked at Griessel with apologetic respect and whispered a low ‘ Fokkit ’. Then the brigadier must have come on the line, because he said his piece and passed the phone to Griessel.

‘Brigadier?’ said Griessel.

‘Benny, to what do I owe this privilege?’

‘I hear there was an alleged abduction this morning, Brigadier, on campus.’

‘You okes are wide-awake, nè . It’s a strange one, Benny.’

‘How so, Brigadier?’

‘Only one eyewitness who swears high and low that a coloured girl was forced into a car in Ryneveld Street, a Nissan X-Trail. Then he followed the vehicle. In Andringa Street the Nissan stopped, two white men jumped out, shot up the tyres of the car pursuing them, grabbed their cellphones, and raced away. There were five witnesses who saw that happen. But not one of them saw the girl in the Nissan. So we are at least sure of cellphone robbery.’

Griessel tried to make sense out of it. ‘What time did this happen, Brigadier?’

‘Must have been just after one, when the classes stopped for lunch. What’s your guys’ interest in the case, Benny?’

He hesitated. ‘Brigadier, it might be connected to the thing in Franschhoek. Sunday.’

‘ Bliksem . Any idea who the girl might be?’

He would have to lie. ‘No, Brigadier. I gather there was more than one person in the car that was following the X-Trail?’

‘Yes, the one who saw the kidnapping, and his friend. Students, both of them. Trouble is, the friend didn’t see anything. They only got a part of the registration. We are following up on that. And there’s one other thing. The bloody students picked up both of the bullet casings in the road. That’s after the tyres were shot out . . .’

Griessel knew what was to come. ‘Forty-five calibre?’

‘That’s right . . .’

‘With a snake engraved on them.’

‘Hell, Benny . . .’ The brigadier didn’t complete his sentence. Griessel guessed he was putting two and two together.

‘Brigadier, are the eyewitnesses absolutely certain there were two gunmen?’

‘Yes, Benny. And probably another chap who stayed behind the steering wheel.’

‘Three in total?’ He couldn’t believe it.

‘That’s what most of them say.’

‘And both the gunmen fired off shots?’

‘Each one blew one of the front tyres.’

‘The snake engraving – was it on both the casings?’

‘Both of them. They are here with the detectives, totally contaminated, of course. You can come and have a look.’

‘ Fok ,’ said Griessel.

‘OK,’ said Tyrone over the cellphone. ‘Look towards the south. There

is a big banner that says Shoprite, U Save . Do you see it?’

‘Yes,’ said the Waterfront murderer.

‘I want you to walk towards it. Slowly.’

‘ D’accord .’

‘Please speak English.’

‘OK.’

‘And stay on the line.’

Tyrone moved to his right, just in front of A. Gul Cash & Carry, so that he could use the corner of the opposite side of the shopping centre as cover. The guy knew exactly what he looked like, and he didn’t want to be spotted now. But his greater concern was that Nadia would see him, and run to him. Or do something else that could spook the gunman.

There were people blocking his view. He had to twist from side to side to see. He focused on Charl Malan Street, just in front of the flamboyant entrance to Bellstar Junction.

Still nothing.

At least Bobby van der Walt was still standing, ten metres away, right in front of the Hello Mobile cellphone shop, his eyes on Tyrone, his forehead furrowed in concentration.

Then he saw Nadia, and it was like a sudden pain in his chest. Her head hung low and she looked scared and forlorn – she was looking at the ground like someone who had lost all hope. The big bag she always carried over her shoulder to class seemed too heavy for her now. Then the stream of people opened up for a second, and Tyrone saw the man beside her. He had a hoodie over his head now, and he held her right arm tightly, his other hand hidden under his grey hoodie jacket. But from the angle of the elbow and forearm, it looked as if he was holding a firearm.

Must be a hands-free kit, thought Tyrone. That’s why he’s not holding a phone.

‘Stop!’ said Tyrone over the phone.

Hoodie and Nadia halted.

Hoodie turned his head slowly. He was checking out everything.

He looked like a whitey. He didn’t look exactly like the guy from this morning. Maybe it was just the hoodie. But Tyrone’s unease deepened.

‘Now cross the road. Slowly.’

He lost them again in the press of the crowd. He zigzagged, he stooped, he stretched up to see over shoulders, careful not to show too much of himself, and also not to make Bobby think it was some kind of sign.

He caught sight of them again. ‘Keep walking until you are exactly below the Shoprite sign.’

And he gave Bobby the signal: his index finger, held up in the air, to show Bobby he must get ready, the hand-over was near. ‘But after that don’t look at me again, Bobby,’ he had explained urgently earlier. ‘That’s crucial, understand?’