Max Annas - The Wall

“White people are weird…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” The woman was wearing a faded brown smock covered with large yellow flowers, a light green t-shirt underneath. A dark green skirt peeked out from underneath the smock hem. Sneakers and short black socks below. Her steps were short and quick. “They have no fashion sense,” she said. A large artificial leather handbag dangled from her shoulder.

“That’s old news.” The man glanced down at the woman and swallowed a grin. He was two heads taller than her and was wearing a charcoal-colored suit. “They’ve never had a clue about that. They’re still farmers, at least in their heads. Just look at them.” His long legs made it seem like he was taking a leisurely stroll.

“Farmers, yes, that’s what they look like,” the woman said. With two hurried strides, she reduced the distance she was lagging behind.

“Boy, it’s hot!” The man in the suit tugged a handkerchief out of his pants, and dabbed his forehead and cheeks. He wiped the back of his hands as well, before sticking the cloth back in his pocket. “What made you think about that?” He cocked the collar of his light blue shirt and straightened his black tie, an oversized briefcase gripped in his other hand.

The woman ran her arm across her face. “The old man just now.”

“Where we parked? The one at the intersection?”

“Uh-huh.” The woman nodded. “Baggy shorts, shirt hanging out.” She took a couple of long strides to keep from falling behind. “What a shirt! And socks with sandals?” The woman shook her head. “I wouldn’t even go to bed in that.”

“You don’t wear anything to bed.”

The woman gave the man a grim look. “Did you see his eyes?”

“Except in the winter…” He grinned. “And just for a second. I didn’t want to stare. That would’ve just made him angrier.”

“It’s ridiculous. In a day or two, he’ll be telling his friends about the two blacks who parked in front of his crappy house. That’s what makes me so mad. I mean, what does he think is going to happen to him in the middle of the day? In the suburbs.”

“On the hottest day of the year.”

“Exactly. On the hottest fucking day of the year. He’s more likely to die of a heart attack than a mugging anyway. Even if two blacks did park outside his door. I hope it won’t be too hard to find where we left the car later.”

“It’ll be fine, it’s up near the entrance. Somebody’s coming.”

The woman fell back a few meters, her head now lowered as she walked. Suit lifted his head and studied the woman coming their way. Mid-thirties, business attire, a trim black suit and white blouse. Blonde hair, straight to her shoulders. Realtor type.

“How do you do?” asked Suit, nodding casually.

“Hi,” the realtor said, hardly glancing at Suit and ignoring the woman in the smock. “It’s a hot one,” she said before moving on.

The woman in the smock remained silent, her eyes still fixed on the ground. Once the realtor was a few meters away, she asked: “How far should we go?”

The houses right around here all had two stories, and were built on similarly sized, though differently shaped, plots. They all looked remarkably alike, just like the one-story houses that dominated the streets closer to the entrance.

“We’re almost at the end. See the wall over there?”

“Uh-huh. What do you think the old man’s got?”

“The old man? The one who stared at us? Pfff… No idea… A little jewelry, two or three generations of gold wedding rings. Cash, maybe even a lot of it. He might be a collector, coins or something. That could be interesting, though it’s always hard to get rid of stuff like that. If he has a gun, it won’t be anything we could get much for. And no phones that would interest us, no laptop. He definitely owns a CD player, which isn’t worth anything these days.”

“You have a good eye.”

“It’s what I do.”

“True.”

The two of them reached a T-intersection. They could see a tall wall running behind the yards in front of them. Behind it, the steady rush of a river. Barking from over that way. A masculine voice calling to a dog. The man and the woman came to a stop.

“What do you think?” asked Suit.

The gated community was ideal for their purposes. Tons of houses, reasonably sized yards. To create some degree of privacy, walls of varying heights had been built all over the place, functioning as a visible screen against the neighbors and people who walked or drove past. However, none of the walls fully enclosed the yards, which were all freely accessible. And each of those spaces provided opportunities for momentary concealment. As long as you knew where the cameras were.

“The two open windows,” the woman commented. “They’re not at home.”

“How do you know?”

“The car that passed us a few minutes ago pulled out from there.”

“The couple?”

“Uh-huh. But it was two men, I think.”

“Really? Well, that’s the good thing about the heat. They leave their windows open. Did they look as if they’d have something worth taking?”

“Maybe. Not sure.”

“What else?”

“The mailbox with the three envelopes sticking out.”

“Definitely.”

“And then the little dog. The window’s shut, but the pane’s all smeary. He’s waiting for his old lady, his old white lady.”

“You think the dog’s been left home alone?”

“Yes. What about you?”

“The lights.”

The woman shook her head. She hadn’t noticed.

“The house with the shrubs by the door,” the man said.

“Oh yeah.”

“The light just went on, though you almost can’t see it. Somebody screwed up the timer.”

“But if they have a lighting system and timer, there’s got to be an alarm.”

“Yes, could be. Probably so. What do you think?”

“First the dog, then the windows. We can see from there.”

Suit made a short grunt. “Speaking of dogs,” he commented, pointing in front of them. A gaunt, brown dog loped across the narrow street.

“Where’d he come from?” the woman wondered.

“He could’ve come from anywhere. It’s a little like a township around here, dogs running around and all.”

“Yes, but the security is tighter than in a township.”

“Until now,” the man said. “Was tighter.”

“Need a push?” the professor asked.

“I’ll be all right,” Moses said. “If I’m pointed downhill, it should start just fine. See you tomorrow.”

As he released the brake, the old Toyota started rolling. He could still see the professor with his head of curly white hair in the rearview mirror. He waved through the back window before turning around again. Moses gave a quick goodbye honk as he cranked the motor. It choked a couple of times, but then turned over. Bad Kwaito was blaring on the radio. The music broke off for a moment, before starting up again. Something electronic this time.

Huge houses like this annoyed Moses. Most of the time, only a few people lived in them. Like Professor Brinsley and his wife. Two floors, lots of rooms, huge pool, lawn, garden. Fortunately, the prof didn’t have any dogs.

It had been a good idea to help Brinsley. His office was stuffed to the ceiling with books sitting on shelves and in dusty piles. His contract with Fort Hare University had run out, and he was flying out for the States next week to start a new job in Atlanta. And the books had to be relocated to the professor’s house. Temporary storage.

“Moses, could you use this?” the prof had asked, over and over again.