doubly
terrified that he was carrying Sergeant Dlamini’s Desert Eagle. If he was
stopped by the cops how would be explain that away?
Mavuso panicked because, unknown to
his two companions, he had a murdered cop’s wallet in his pocket.
The moment of terror then passed as
the two cop cars swept past them, on their way to some other action.
Heart thumping, Themba cursed as he
swung the car back onto the road heading toward KwaMashu M. As the danger
receded, bravura returned. Macks and Mavuso began joking about the experience.
Themba was quiet, still shaken by it.
‘ Eish,
Mavusies! I’m thinking there that maybe someone was telling the boere we had so much isiphuzo and they better check us,
that’s why they were coming with their sirens.’
‘ Yebo .
Me too, Macks. I was thinking maybe they see us leave with vodka and whisky and
not just zamalek and they get
jealous, and they call the blue lights.’
There was a moment’s silence before
Themba picked up the same idea.
‘Where you get the bucks, Mavuso?’
‘ Yini?’
‘Where you get the money?’
‘Money? Is mine.’
‘Hey, wena! ’
‘What you talk?’
‘Where you get the money?’
‘Yes, bra !’ Macks joined in with Themba. ‘Themba and me, we see you with
the big bucks back there. Where you get that money?’
‘ Nxa ,
man. What you talk? Is mine. Is my money.’
Neither Macks nor Themba was
satisfied with the response, but they left it there. Themba turned on the radio
and they drove for little more than half a minute with the thumping sounds of
some newcomer whose music none of them could identify. Themba switched it off
again and they drove in silence.
‘What you think, Themba?’ asked
Macks.
‘Nothing.’
‘ Hayi .
Not nothing. I know you, bra . I know
you thinking big things.’
‘I’m thinking we get that Jiminy
Rider before he’s getting us.’
That produced a new energy as they
spoke over each other, excitedly, about getting to the detective before he got
to them.
‘How we find him, bra Themba?’
‘I told you, Macks. I got a friend
there at Durban North. I call him tomorrow when he starts there by the office.
He’s got a computer with the names of the boere .
Names and addresses. He’s got that Jim there in his office. He got that Jim
Rider there in that computer. He’s telling me tomorrow, then we go and see this
detective there at his house.’
4 WEDNESDAY
05.45.
The Ryders were more frantic than
usual with their morning schedule. Fiona had asked him to pack the children’s
bags for their four days away, so that when school broke at midday for
half-term they would be ready for her to drop off, along with the dog. He had
done so. She had then inspected the bags and promptly started re-packing them.
They exchanged harsh words while she did so. He stormed out to get more coffee,
telling her to pack the damn things herself next time.
Sugar-Bear knew something was up and
was running all over the house, barking in excitement. He would have to wait a
few hours for Fiona to pop home from work in order to take him with the luggage
to the school, for transfer to the friends who had been brave enough to invite
the dog along with the children.
The children were fighting in one of
the bedrooms. Someone’s hiking boots had disappeared. A glove had gone missing.
The phone rang. Ryder ignored it.
‘That won’t be for me, so please
answer the damn thing,’ Fiona called.
Ryder answered the phone in the
kitchen.
‘It’s for you,’ he called.
‘Who is it?’
‘Mongezi!’
‘Coming!’
Ryder told Mongezi she was on her way
and that he was putting down the receiver. He grabbed his coffee and scarpered
before she arrived to pick up the call.
‘Mongezi!’ she said, as sweetly as
she had ever spoken into any telephone mouthpiece. ‘How are you?’
07.35.
Koekemoer, Dippenaar, Pillay, and
Cronje were more sombre than usual over their
coffees. They had been reminiscing about Trewhella. Koekemoer
terrified that he was carrying Sergeant Dlamini’s Desert Eagle. If he was
stopped by the cops how would be explain that away?
Mavuso panicked because, unknown to
his two companions, he had a murdered cop’s wallet in his pocket.
The moment of terror then passed as
the two cop cars swept past them, on their way to some other action.
Heart thumping, Themba cursed as he
swung the car back onto the road heading toward KwaMashu M. As the danger
receded, bravura returned. Macks and Mavuso began joking about the experience.
Themba was quiet, still shaken by it.
‘ Eish,
Mavusies! I’m thinking there that maybe someone was telling the boere we had so much isiphuzo and they better check us,
that’s why they were coming with their sirens.’
‘ Yebo .
Me too, Macks. I was thinking maybe they see us leave with vodka and whisky and
not just zamalek and they get
jealous, and they call the blue lights.’
There was a moment’s silence before
Themba picked up the same idea.
‘Where you get the bucks, Mavuso?’
‘ Yini?’
‘Where you get the money?’
‘Money? Is mine.’
‘Hey, wena! ’
‘What you talk?’
‘Where you get the money?’
‘Yes, bra !’ Macks joined in with Themba. ‘Themba and me, we see you with
the big bucks back there. Where you get that money?’
‘ Nxa ,
man. What you talk? Is mine. Is my money.’
Neither Macks nor Themba was
satisfied with the response, but they left it there. Themba turned on the radio
and they drove for little more than half a minute with the thumping sounds of
some newcomer whose music none of them could identify. Themba switched it off
again and they drove in silence.
‘What you think, Themba?’ asked
Macks.
‘Nothing.’
‘ Hayi .
Not nothing. I know you, bra . I know
you thinking big things.’
‘I’m thinking we get that Jiminy
Rider before he’s getting us.’
That produced a new energy as they
spoke over each other, excitedly, about getting to the detective before he got
to them.
‘How we find him, bra Themba?’
‘I told you, Macks. I got a friend
there at Durban North. I call him tomorrow when he starts there by the office.
He’s got a computer with the names of the boere .
Names and addresses. He’s got that Jim there in his office. He got that Jim
Rider there in that computer. He’s telling me tomorrow, then we go and see this
detective there at his house.’
4 WEDNESDAY
05.45.
The Ryders were more frantic than
usual with their morning schedule. Fiona had asked him to pack the children’s
bags for their four days away, so that when school broke at midday for
half-term they would be ready for her to drop off, along with the dog. He had
done so. She had then inspected the bags and promptly started re-packing them.
They exchanged harsh words while she did so. He stormed out to get more coffee,
telling her to pack the damn things herself next time.
Sugar-Bear knew something was up and
was running all over the house, barking in excitement. He would have to wait a
few hours for Fiona to pop home from work in order to take him with the luggage
to the school, for transfer to the friends who had been brave enough to invite
the dog along with the children.
The children were fighting in one of
the bedrooms. Someone’s hiking boots had disappeared. A glove had gone missing.
The phone rang. Ryder ignored it.
‘That won’t be for me, so please
answer the damn thing,’ Fiona called.
Ryder answered the phone in the
kitchen.
‘It’s for you,’ he called.
‘Who is it?’
‘Mongezi!’
‘Coming!’
Ryder told Mongezi she was on her way
and that he was putting down the receiver. He grabbed his coffee and scarpered
before she arrived to pick up the call.
‘Mongezi!’ she said, as sweetly as
she had ever spoken into any telephone mouthpiece. ‘How are you?’
07.35.
Koekemoer, Dippenaar, Pillay, and
Cronje were more sombre than usual over their
coffees. They had been reminiscing about Trewhella. Koekemoer
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