John Davis - Roots of Outrage

‘Thank you for coming!’

As she got a beer for him from the refrigerator Mahoney said: ‘You won’t remember me, but we come from the same home-town, Umtata.’

‘Yes, I know, though I don’t believe we met. Your father was my father’s lawyer.’ She smiled. ‘And I’ve checked you out.’ (Checked him out?) ‘By the way, we needn’t worry about Sergeant van Rensburg,’ she continued matter-of-factly. ‘He’s not gunning for me anymore: I neutralized him.’

Neutralized him? ‘How?’

She sat down on the sofa opposite him with a glass of wine and crossed her legs elegantly. ‘I screwed him.’

Mahoney tried not to show his amazement. Exactly as Willy Thembu had suggested in jest. His heart was knocking in hope. She smiled. ‘That’s off the record, for the moment. Do I shock you?’

He was blushing. ‘No …’

‘Liar,’ she said, smiling.

‘I mean, why shouldn’t you sleep with whoever you like?’

‘But I didn’t like. I did it for two reasons. One, to get him off my back. Two, for the future. You never know in this country when it’s going to be necessary to have a few cops on your side.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Not only did he contravene the Immorality Act, he’s also a married man.’

Why was she telling him this? ‘I see. You’re right.’

‘Sure I’m right. This is a wrong country. I don’t care what I’ve got to do to get a few levers. So look at this.’

She got up and went to a wall-safe. She took out a large envelope. She pulled out a photograph. Mahoney stared at it. It showed a couple naked on a bed, having sexual intercourse. The woman was Patti Gandhi. And the man was unquestionably Sergeant van Rensburg.

‘Who took this photograph?’ And why was she showing it to him?

‘Gloria Naidoo. In my apartment upstairs.’ She explained, with a wisp of a smile: ‘The day after I was acquitted, who should come here but Sergeant van Rensburg? Ostensibly to warn me officially that Vice Squad were watching me. Then he got fresh and said that he could put in a good word for me. I thought fast. I said I was having my period, could he come back in two days. I set it up with Gloria, she’s a photographer. We bored a hole through the spare bedroom wall. When Sergeant van Rensburg came round for his illegal goodies Gloria photographed the terrible deed. But the photos didn’t come out well enough because of the light – I didn’t look like an Indian. So we set it up again for two days later, and that’s the result. When the good sergeant came round again, I showed him that photo and told him to get off my back, or else.’ She took back the photograph and slipped it into the envelope.

Why was she telling him this?

‘You’re wondering why I’m telling you this.’ She folded her arms. ‘Well, a few nights later I was raided by the Security Police. With a warrant to search for seditious material. My apartment was swarming with detectives, led by a certain Major Kotze. They ransacked the place, but found nothing – I’m not fool enough to keep seditious material at home. And I’m sure they weren’t looking for those photographs because they were even looking down spines of books. And why would Sergeant van Rensburg confide in Special Branch? No, they were looking for a connection with the ANC. Anyway, I was quite calm and I answered all Major Kotze’s questions very sweetly – I even offered him a drink. Which he declined at the time. But when the boys departed empty-handed, Major Kotze stayed behind to ask a few more questions and I got the distinct impression it was because I was wearing a rather revealing sari. And I thought: Hullo, maybe this trick can work twice. And sure enough, with the minimum of provocation, he made a heavy pass at me. Again saying he could put in a good word for me.’ She smiled widely. ‘Again I stalled him for a couple of days. Two days later Major Kotze was back again, boots and all. And so was Gloria, in the next room, with her camera.’ She grinned widely. ‘And the results are in this envelope.’

Mahoney had to command his hand not to reach out for those results.

Patti grinned: ‘There’s no reason for you to see them now – I only showed you the first one to convince you of the truth of my story. You’ll see them later, if you agree to my proposition.’ She smiled. ‘And it’s not an illegal proposition, Mr Mahoney. “Blackmail” would be a most inappropriate word to describe legitimate self-defence against the injustice of apartheid. Though I admit that if the entire South African police force wants to expose themselves to blackmail I’ll arrange it.’

It broke his heart to think about it, a beautiful woman like this! A brutal, shocking, wildly erotic thought.

‘I understand.’

She said quietly: ‘No, you don’t understand, Mr Mahoney. You’re white. You have all the normal privileges of a civilized Western country. I do not. You may sympathise , but you do not really understand what it is to be non-white in this country.’

‘Okay, you’re right, Miss Gandhi.’

‘Patti,’ she said. ‘Please.’

‘Patti. And I’m Luke.’

‘Wow, first-name terms already, we’re getting on like a house on fire and you’ve only seen me in one pornographic photo.’ She smiled widely. ‘I’m not really domineering, you know. I’m as soft as butter when I’m treated right. All I want out of life is justice. A good society. And cops to catch crooks. Is that too much for a citizen to ask?’

‘No.’

‘Ah, but it is, in this country. In fact it’s against the law.’

‘That’s true.’

‘So what are you going to do about it, Luke? Are you going to write courageous stuff?’

He knew now he was undergoing some kind of test. ‘I do my best – for a junior reporter.’

‘You do very well indeed. I’ve read a lot of your work, including your articles about whaling.’

The quickest way to a writer’s heart. ‘Thank you.’

‘But if whaling is so horrific – so cruel, as you so vividly described it – why did you keep on going to the Ice?’

‘For the money.’

‘Ah, yes, the money … Well, I can’t promise you any money out of the proposition I’ve got for you, but on the other hand you could make a killing , if things go wrong.’

‘Go wrong?’

‘If the police start persecuting me again. Because in this envelope are not only the photographs but two affidavits testifying as to how they were taken. I intend to put them into a bank safety deposit box with the story of how they came about – a well-written story, for publication in the event of my being seriously arrested.’

‘Arrested for what?’

‘For a serious matter, like “furthering the illegal objectives of the ANC”. I want to be able to tell the authorities that if they persist in their persecution of me I will be releasing a highly embarrassing story. This envelope – ’ she picked it up – ‘is my insurance, Luke. Not blackmail – because it would be to the public benefit that everybody be informed that the custodians of the law are breaking the law.’

God, yes, it would be a story. Though he wasn’t so sure it wouldn’t be blackmail – but to hell with that for now.

‘You would be performing a public service, Luke. And showing up the cruelty of apartheid. And the ridiculousness of it.’

‘Yes. Except I doubt it would pull down this government.’

‘No, but it would rock the police. “Senior BOSS officer in Immorality Act love nest with ANC member”.’ She smiled. ‘It would let the cat loose amongst the BOSS pigeons: how many security secrets would Major Kotze have told the ANC through me?’