Michael Ridpath - See No Evil

‘Stop!’ she said.

The man continued. Zan tensed. She hoped her preparations and the training she had received all those years ago in the ANC camps in Mozambique would be effective.

‘Where’s Dirk du Toit?’ she called out in Afrikaans.

‘He couldn’t make it,’ the man said.

Zan reached behind her for the pistol shoved in the waistband at the small of her back. The other man was quick. Before she could aim, he had whipped his own weapon out from a shoulder holster and was pointing it at her. He fired and she felt a thud in her chest as the round hit her body armour. She fell backwards, twisting as she hit the ground so that her own gun was pointed straight at the man who was lumbering towards her. She fired twice, hitting him in his unprotected chest. He slumped to the ground.

She scrambled to her feet and ran over to him. He was still breathing. His gun was an inch from his hand and she kicked it away. She pointed her pistol at the man’s head.

‘What’s your name?’

He shook his head.

She kicked him in the ribs, a few inches below one of the entry wounds. The man screamed in pain.

‘I said, what’s your name?’

‘Moolman,’ the man whispered.

‘Kobus Moolman? Colonel Kobus Moolman?’

The man nodded.

Zan remembered the name. He had been a leading member of the Vlakplaas death squad that had killed so many comrades in the struggle. And a minute ago he had tried to kill her; her breast still ached from the impact of the round on the Kevlar.

She glanced at his wounds. It was just possible that, if she called an ambulance, he might survive.

She pulled the trigger twice more.

‘If she’s going to come, she’d better hurry up,’ Cornelius said checking his watch. ‘The plane leaves in fifteen minutes.’

Calder, Cornelius and Benton were at Johannesburg airport waiting in the small but comfortable lounge of the charter company that was going to fly them to Kupugani. A group of four young German tourists were drinking beer at a nearby table: they were due to be dropped off at a game reserve eighty kilometres further on. The tension between Benton and Cornelius was unmistakable, but they had come to a kind of truce, burying their mutual suspicion in their joint desire to find the diary and the cause of Martha’s death.

‘Shall we hold the plane?’ Benton said.

‘No,’ said Cornelius sharply. ‘We want to make sure we have a chance to take a good look round before it gets dark.’

‘You haven’t seen much of Zan, have you?’ Calder said to Cornelius.

‘Not much, if anything at all. After Martha died I got the strong impression she was judging me for quitting South Africa. She’s a strong-willed woman,’ he smiled, ‘like her father, I suppose. We were both too stubborn to give the other a chance. That can happen in families.’

It certainly could happen in the van Zyl family, Calder thought. Outside on the apron he saw two young pilots, a man and a woman, climb into the Cessna Caravan and begin their pre start-up checks. It was a twin-engined aircraft which could carry ten passengers and was ideal for short runways.

Benton disappeared to the bathroom. Cornelius was leafing through a copy of one of the national newspapers. ‘It’s good to be back in this country, you know. I’ve hardly been here at all since Martha died.’

‘It’s a beautiful place...’ Calder said.

‘But? There was a “but” in there that you didn’t say.’

‘But it’s still screwed up, ten years after apartheid.’

‘I wonder what Martha would have thought of it today?’

‘She would have been pleased, wouldn’t she?’

‘Oh, yes, yes she would.’ Cornelius considered the question. ‘I guess she was right and I was wrong. South Africa’s still a violent place, but there hasn’t been the anarchy I expected.’

‘Do you regret leaving?’

‘Oh, no,’ Cornelius said. ‘I’m proud of Zyl News and what it’s done. But...’

‘But what?’

Cornelius glanced at Calder. ‘You know all our family secrets. You know about Todd and about Edwin. If I do win The Times, what will I do with it? I’m seventy-two. I might stay on a couple of years to turn the paper around, but then who runs Zyl News? Todd won’t have it and I’ll make damn sure Edwin doesn’t get his hands on it.’ Calder smiled and Cornelius noticed. ‘I’ve turned a blind eye to Edwin’s activities for too long.’

‘There must be some managers within the company you could rely on to carry on after you. Or you could hire someone.’

‘Yes, I could do that. I probably will do that. Want a job?’ Calder grinned. ‘I used to have a paper round when I was sixteen. I gave it up after a couple of months. I’m not a natural newspaperman.’

Cornelius smiled. ‘I wonder what Martha would want me to do.’

Calder fished a card out of his pocket and handed it to Cornelius. ‘You know what? When all this is over, give George Field a call.’

‘George? He’d never talk to me now.’

Calder shrugged. ‘He might.’

Cornelius put the card in his pocket.

Benton returned from the bathroom and the ground staff announced that the aircraft was ready for boarding. As they filed out on to the apron, Zan joined them, out of breath.

‘You made it,’ said Calder.

‘Only just.’

Cornelius turned to face her. The aircraft engines roared a few feet away.

Zan hesitated and then drew near to him. ‘Hello, Pa,’ she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled and they embraced. ‘I’m glad you could come,’ he shouted above the engine noise.

‘You look good, Pa,’ she smiled. ‘Better than you do in your pictures in the paper.’

Cornelius grinned. ‘So do you.’

They climbed on to the aircraft and took up their seats towards the front. Zan paused next to the open seat by her father, and then decided to sit next to Calder. They strapped themselves in and the plane taxied to the hold.

‘We didn’t think you were going to make it,’ Calder said.

‘I almost didn’t.’

‘You said you were meeting someone about the Laagerbond this morning. Did you find anything out?’

‘Yes. Don’t trust the bastards.’ Zan explained how she had received a call that she should meet Dirk du Toit, a senior banker and presumably a Laagerbond member, at a deserted spot near Franschhoek. She described her rendezvous with Colonel Moolman, how she had had the foresight to wear a bullet-proof vest and how she shot him after he had tried to kill her. She omitted to mention how she had finished him off.

Calder was shocked by how coolly she described it all. ‘Is he dead?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ she replied.

‘And you still flew up here? What about the police?’

‘I’m sure they can sort it all out by themselves. I’ll speak to them when we’ve finished here. I’m not that easily put off.’

‘You certainly know how to handle yourself.’

‘The ANC taught me well in Mozambique,’ Zan replied. ‘Moolman was complacent, probably because I’m a woman. His mistake.’

At least the Laagerbond had lost one of their killers, Calder thought. But there were almost certainly plenty more where he came from, and the attempt to kill Zan showed that they were becoming more desperate. It wouldn’t be long before they discovered that Calder and Cornelius were together in South Africa, if they hadn’t already.

‘So what did your NIA contacts tell you about the Laagerbond?’ Calder asked.

‘I’ve got some names. Eight.’

‘Great. Anyone important?’

‘Two former cabinet ministers and a general. But they’re dead now. Then there’s Dirk du Toit, Andries Visser, Daniel Havenga and two others I haven’t heard of. Maybe Moolman makes nine. I’ve made some notes, they’re in my bag.’