Max Annas - The Wall

“He tried to rape a woman!” What?

A black voice. Masculine. “Hurt a whole bunch of people. He’s dangerous! And broke into an old man’s house.”

Moses listened as the white man struck his hand with his club. “I’m ready for him!” The car drove off.

Were they really talking about me? Moses wondered.

Nothing happened for a few seconds. Then a shadow over him. The white guy was sitting on the wall, his ass directly above him. Not even ten centimeters away.

Moses heard the click of a lighter. The white man was smoking. He also wanted to smoke.

“Oh,” said the nanny in a strangely artificial tone. “The ball’s gone now.” Short pause. “Who’s going to get the ball for us?”

The shadow above him evaporated. A ball was kicked.

“Look,” she said. “Isn’t that a nice man?”

What a smart woman , Moses thought, taking a deep breath.

Thud. That was the door to the garage again. No steps or voices could be heard.

Thembinkosi opened the wardrobe door and breathed more freely.

He tugged open the other door and gazed into Nozipho’s eyes.

“I want out of here,” she said.

“Me, too. But we can’t now.”

“But how long will we have to wait?”

“Until it’s safe.”

“Maybe we should consider a career change.”

“Maybe. If they can’t get rid of the body right now, they might leave again.”

“Too many maybes!”

“Possibly.”

“Sorry about the perfume. That was too risky.”

“It turned out okay.”

“Uh-huh, just barely,” Nozipho said. “We’re doubly stuck now. Because of the security people, and now because of the two guys in the house.”

“We just need a little patience, okay? They’ll disappear soon.”

The door to the garage opened again.

“Are you sure,” asked Deep Voice, “she had her ID on her?”

Thembinkosi rolled his eyes. Pointed at his pants pocket. That was where Celeste Rubin’s ID was. He climbed back into the wardrobe.

“Yes.” High Voice. “Where’s her suitcase?”

“I need to pee,” he heard Nozipho whisper.

Then, there were footsteps in the room.

Willie hit his club into his left hand. He knew he did that too often. A habit that had already caused a thin callus to build up. However, whenever he stood spread-legged in front of a young black man, he made an impression doing it. That much was obvious.

The rich have it good , he thought, as he sat down on the little wall. These large houses with their neat lawns. Compared to his tiny place in Stoney Drift… it wasn’t fair. It had been years since he’d had enough left over to stick into the house. Then again, who in that shabby neighborhood did? Except for a few coloreds who’d been moving into the settlement in increasing numbers in recent years.

I’ve had to cut corners on cigarettes, too , Willie thought as he lit a Chesterfield.

The nanny was playing ball with the little boy. Looked ridiculous. She walked up to the ball and kicked it hard. Much too far for the little boy. The rich did indeed have it good. Someone was always there for their kids. Although… He never would have trusted his children to a black woman. They were all with Janice now anyway, the cow.

“Oh! The ball’s gone now,” the dumb nanny said. “Who’s going to get the ball for us?” she asked annoyingly.

Considering how fat she was, it would probably take years if she did it herself. The little boy stared into the sky. Willie inhaled deeply one more time before getting to his feet. It was time to find that bastard anyway. He held the smoke in his lungs until he reached the ball and then exhaled it slowly. He very carefully kicked the ball to the boy who was laughing at him.

“Look!” the nanny said as she raised her hands. “What a nice man!”

The guy was nowhere in sight. Willie turned around a couple of times before walking up the street. They would catch him, of course. He wouldn’t get away from here all that easily.

A couple of Central Alert people were waiting for him at the exit. And there was no way he was going to make it over the wall.

Somebody was walking through the room. Thembinkosi heard a zipper being opened. The sound of rummaging. Re-packing.

“Well?” Deep Voice had to be standing at the door.

“Nothing.” High Voice.

“When did you see the ID?”

“When you hit her in the face. Well… not the first time. Later on sometime. When she fell down out in the hallway. When you kicked her in the side and spat on her. That was when I saw the ID in her jeans pocket. The back one. It was sticking out a little.”

“And then what happened?”

“Then you turned her over and hit her some more.”

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds, then High Voice continued.

“Because she didn’t want to talk.”

Another pause. High Voice again. “I didn’t see the ID after that.”

“So, it’s either still on her body, or it fell out of her pocket.” Deep Voice. “Let’s check her out one more time. I don’t want that thing to get found. Either here in the house or where we’re going to dump her.”

Footsteps. Door slamming. Garage door, too. Thembinkosi opened his door the same moment Nozipho did hers.

The white man’s boots could be heard for a few seconds. Moses then crawled slowly around the house. He had briefly considered thanking the nanny. With a wave. A nod. But he didn’t want to put her in any danger. She understood as it was. Behind the house, he crept along another wall whose height decreased in steps down to the hedge. He was peeking through the hedge into the next yard when it occurred to him that he hadn’t had the time to verify that he wasn’t being watched from the house he’d just crawled by.

Moses raised his head and realized this wasn’t enough for him to get a good sightline. He moved back a short way and sat up with his back against the wall. Breathed slower. Deeper. And sensed how tired he actually was. And how hungry. Coffee and bread for breakfast, that was it. And the moving for Prof. Brinsley. And then here.

No idea where he was inside The Pines. The last escape from the referee, the guards, the security vehicle, and the white guy… Shit, he thought. Whoever had been sitting in the security car… That had been an attempt to kill him.

Why?

He needed a few moments to remember. Rape. That word had tumbled out when someone in that vehicle had chatted with the white guy. Was that the same car that had tried to run him down?

And the rape? Someone else had to be on foot in here. They couldn’t mean him.

The movement at the upper edge of his vision was barely noticeable. Moses looked up and met the curious eyes of a little girl. She was three or four years old with blonde braids dangling on each side of her face. In the glow of the sunshine from where she was standing behind the window, she looked like a character in a children’s book. She waved at him. He waved back.

If she caught sight of a black man creeping around her yard, she wasn’t thinking, “Mommy, a black man is crawling around our yard.” But what was she thinking? He had to get out of here. Wherever a small child happened to be, an adult wasn’t far behind. And they would definitely ask, “Why the hell is a black man crawling around our yard?”

If only he could figure out where he was. And where was Sandi?

“Are we on the air? Skype is amazing. Hello? Ah… now! All right… I’ll start since I know the two of you. Inspector Pokwana in Beacon Bay and Warren Kramer in… Ah yes, you’re both in Beacon Bay. Neighbors, practically. So Inspector Pokwana is the police contact officer for the Neighborhood Community Watch in Dorchester Heights. Hello…”