Деон Мейер - Cobra

She asked, ‘Here on business?’

He’d anticipated this and wanted to contain the lie – too much detail is a dangerous thing – so he said, ‘No, just came to spend some time with my sister. I’m flying back tomorrow night.’

He signed the register and he paid the six hundred and fifty rand and thought that the bed and the breakfast better be blerrie lekker , it’s a lot of money. She took him to his room, and after she had left, he locked the door and put the case on the bed. Then he took out the gun and silencer, and the three cellphones. Put them on the bed, neatly in a row. He took off the jacket, hung it up in the wardrobe. Stood in front of the bed, looking at the cellphones. And he thought, he must concentrate. Use one at a time. And remember which one he was using. Where and when.

He got undressed, went into the bathroom and turned the shower on full, a blast of hot, soothing, beautiful water, and he stood like that for a very long time, so that it would wash away all the day’s troubles, would soothe the pain across his back.

It didn’t really work.

Griessel felt he should encourage Mbali. He wanted to tell her that at least one good thing had happened – she and Vaughn Cupido had found each other in some way, the antagonism between them was gone. He wanted to tell her that life and the world worked in cycles. Things would come right again, the wheel would turn. It always did.

He wanted to tell her the downturn of the wheel was more frequent than the up, but you had to ride it all the same.

But he didn’t, because he thought, why on earth should she believe a middle-aged white drunkard from the apartheid era?

He had no credibility.

And he thought he should phone Radebe at O. R. Tambo Airport to hear if they had found anything more, because the more names they had, the easier it would be to arrest the Cobras at a border post. But he couldn’t phone Ulinda, because the SSA were monitoring Radebe’s cellphone too, and he thought: Fuck cellphones. Jissis , they managed without them for so many years, and they arrested just as many criminals. If not more. Using the old methodology. They investigated. Built dossiers bit by bit, with thorough footwork. They used their heads, thought and pondered and argued amongst each other, and debated, tested theories, outmanoeuvred suspects with clever tricks and snares in the interrogation rooms. They learned to spot a lie a mile off, just by watching and observing.

And now? Now technology had to do everything. And when it failed, then so many of the young detectives sat there saying, no, this case can’t be solved.

He didn’t like to be reachable everywhere, all the time. He didn’t like trying to type a text on a tiny keyboard with his out-sized fingers. People sent messages for any shit that came into their heads, in a language that took you half an hour to decipher, and if you didn’t answer, then they wanted to know why.

And the SSA could eavesdrop on you, track you, follow you, because the technology worked both ways – if you could catch a criminal, then someone else could find you .

He sighed, and tried to think of something else, but all that popped into his head, was his Alexa dilemma.

And it was not something that he could discuss with Mbali or anyone else, no matter how oppressive the silence was, here at the table.

When he saw Sister Abigail Malgas approaching, he felt relieved.

The nurse had Nadia’s big book bag over her shoulder. ‘The girl is in a ward now,’ she said. ‘The doctor said she will be able to talk to you. But only for a half an hour, and the child must give permission first.’

He didn’t tell her that Nadia had no choice. They followed her, into the hospital. In the lift, Sister Malgas said, ‘They still don’t know what those people drugged her with, but it doesn’t seem to be something serious.’

She made them wait outside the door to the ward, and disappeared behind the cream-coloured curtains that were drawn around the bed.

45

‘So what did you do then?’ asked Cupido.

‘I tried to call Professor Adair, but he didn’t answer. So I left a message, and I sent a text—’

‘What was the message?’

‘I just said . . . things didn’t work out like I expected, I’m sorry . . .’

‘Can I take a look at the text message?’

‘I . . . uh, sorry, I’ve deleted it.’

‘What did you do then?’

‘I started walking. I mean, what could I do? I couldn’t go to the police. This was about the professor’s security work, he said I shouldn’t talk to anybody, I mean, I couldn’t just go to the police and say, look, this is . . . You know, I couldn’t tell them everything, so what’s the use of telling them anything?’

‘You’re telling us now.’

‘Sure, but you guys know, right. About Professor Adair, and the pickpocket. I mean, this morning, I was . . . confused. And scared. And it all happened so fast, and the guy who wanted the card just ran off, and I did not have the card any more, and I thought, the professor will call, eventually, and I could tell him.’

‘OK. Where did you go?’

‘I walked to the hotel. This guy had stolen my purse, and all my cash. Thank God my bank cards were in my suitcase, with my passport. But I had no money for a cab, so I asked directions, and I walked to the hotel, and it rained a little, and I was damn cold, and my jacket was in my suitcase because I had to wear something red. And it was much further than I thought, I got very tired. And all the time I was so very worried that I had fucked the whole thing up, if you’ll pardon my French.’

‘Wasn’t your fault,’ said Bones.

‘I know, right?’

‘I just want to make sure, when you talk about “his security work”, you mean the algorithm – for finding terrorists?’ asked Cupido.

‘That’s right.’

‘You said you work with him on some of his projects. The algorithm project too?’

‘Oh, no, nobody worked with him on that .’

‘How many research assistants work with him?’

‘Four.’

‘So why did he choose you?’ asked Cupido.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Why did David Adair choose you to bring the card to Cape Town?’

‘Because . . . I suppose he thought he could trust me? Or he knew I love travelling, and I wanted to come to Africa . . .’

‘When he transferred money to your account, why did he not ask for your account details?’

‘I . . .He . . .I didn’t say that.’

‘Did he ask for your details? During that second call, yesterday at ten. Did he ask for your account details to transfer the money?’

‘Well, I . . . Yes, I think so.’

‘But you specifically said it wasn’t from his usual account. It was from a bank in Zurich.’

‘Yes, but I . . .’ she realised she had talked herself into a corner.

‘Do you get paid for your work at the university?’

‘Yes.’

‘By David Adair?’

‘No.’

‘So how did you know it wasn’t from his usual account?’

She didn’t reply.

‘You’re not telling us the whole truth, are you?’

With fearful eyes, Nadia Kleinbooi looked from Griessel to Mbali, and back at him again.

They stood beside her bed, both on one side.

‘You don’t have to be scared,’ said Mbali.

‘We’re here to help,’ said Griessel.

‘Do you know where my brother is?’ She was pale and tired, her voice was hoarse.

‘No. But we know that he brought you here.’

‘Is he OK?’

‘How do you feel?’ asked Mbali.

‘It hurts,’ said Nadia, and touched her side.

‘Is it OK if we ask you a few questions?’

‘Yes. I don’t . . . They injected me, in my arm. With something. I was very sleepy, so I can’t remember everything that happened . . .’