confusion, Meerkat staggered through to his little gold-painted bar in the lounge, frantic for a stiff drink. Why anyone would want the .32 with its faulty barrel and doubtful ammunition, when they could just as easily have taken thesuper-efficient PPK—or both!—was more than he could imagine. Then he noticed something else.
The top was off the Johnny Walker bottle, its level had dropped at least three inches, and right beside it stood two tumblers with heeltaps of whisky in them. What was worse, he could plainly see greasy fingerprints on the tumblers gilded by a glint of fading sunlight coming in off the roof of a dry-cleaning van parked round the back. Fingerprints that mocked him, jeered and taunted him, egged him on to call in the cops, just as any other outraged citizen would do in a similar predicament.
With a snarl, Meerkat Marais dashed the tumblers to the floor, grabbed the bottle of Scotch by the neck, and took it through with him into the kitchen, there to calm himself down and plan his terrible revenge.
9
A SHREWD BLACK beggar, with wasted limbs and his head twisted round to face the wrong way, lay sprawled at the entrance to the lane leading to the Aquarius Health and Fitness Center. There was nothing quite like a heightened sense of physical well-being, he’d discovered, for making passing whites feel compelled to shower him with coppers.
“God blessing you, my baasie, God blessing you,” he chanted as Kramer approached, but didn’t put too much into it as they usually paid better on their way out. “God bring you much happiness, my baasie.…”
“How’s it, Backchat?” grunted Kramer, pausing.
“Hau! Is it you, Lieutenant?”
“You’re not blind this week as well, are you?”
Backchat had a good cackle over that. “And what does the Lieutenant come seeking today?” he said.
“Seen any giants lately?”
“Four,” replied Backchat promptly, grinning up at him.
“You know what a giant is?”
“Ungasi, Lieutenant, but I do remember you telling me that the police pay well for any information!”
Kramer laughed and poked the old rogue with his foot. “
Reliable
information, hey? A giant in this case is one hell of a big bloke with arms like bloody tree-trunks. Don’t tell me you’ve sat here on your bum all day and you haven’t a thing to tell me.”
“Maybe.”
“Such as?”
“There is a good price offered for the man who can find a volovolo size number thirty-two.”
“Oh ja? When did you hear this?”
“Monday, Lieutenant.”
“Who from?”
“The talk was all around.”
“And who’s doing the offering?”
“Ungasi, Lieutenant, but maybe I can find out.”
Kramer stood undecided for a moment. This could be something or nothing; it was difficult to tell. Backchat could simply have picked up a garbled story based on the efforts Zondi and he had been making over the last six days to trace the firearm used on Bradshaw. Yes, he must have done because, setting aside the criminal involvement aspect, the time factor wasn’t right.
“Which do you mean, Backchat,” he asked as a double-check on this, “Monday two days ago, or the Monday before that?”
“Hau,
this
Monday of
this
week, Lieutenant—and the news was very fresh.”
“Ja, it’s okay, I know about that,” said Kramer, dropping some silver into the collecting tin. “But you keep your eyes open for a giant, you hear me?”
“God blessing you, Lieutenant!” chuckled Backchat, and quickly emptied out the tin behind his chest.
Kramer strode on up the lane. The Aquarius Health and Fitness Center looked nothing too special from the outside, which was contrary to what he had been led to expect: it was just a long stretch of whitewashed brick wall punctuated by little windows like portholes and by the backs of three large air-conditioners, struggling hard to remove the smell of rich man’s sweat. He pushed open the big black wooden door, in which someone had wasted a great number of huge nailsto
The top was off the Johnny Walker bottle, its level had dropped at least three inches, and right beside it stood two tumblers with heeltaps of whisky in them. What was worse, he could plainly see greasy fingerprints on the tumblers gilded by a glint of fading sunlight coming in off the roof of a dry-cleaning van parked round the back. Fingerprints that mocked him, jeered and taunted him, egged him on to call in the cops, just as any other outraged citizen would do in a similar predicament.
With a snarl, Meerkat Marais dashed the tumblers to the floor, grabbed the bottle of Scotch by the neck, and took it through with him into the kitchen, there to calm himself down and plan his terrible revenge.
9
A SHREWD BLACK beggar, with wasted limbs and his head twisted round to face the wrong way, lay sprawled at the entrance to the lane leading to the Aquarius Health and Fitness Center. There was nothing quite like a heightened sense of physical well-being, he’d discovered, for making passing whites feel compelled to shower him with coppers.
“God blessing you, my baasie, God blessing you,” he chanted as Kramer approached, but didn’t put too much into it as they usually paid better on their way out. “God bring you much happiness, my baasie.…”
“How’s it, Backchat?” grunted Kramer, pausing.
“Hau! Is it you, Lieutenant?”
“You’re not blind this week as well, are you?”
Backchat had a good cackle over that. “And what does the Lieutenant come seeking today?” he said.
“Seen any giants lately?”
“Four,” replied Backchat promptly, grinning up at him.
“You know what a giant is?”
“Ungasi, Lieutenant, but I do remember you telling me that the police pay well for any information!”
Kramer laughed and poked the old rogue with his foot. “
Reliable
information, hey? A giant in this case is one hell of a big bloke with arms like bloody tree-trunks. Don’t tell me you’ve sat here on your bum all day and you haven’t a thing to tell me.”
“Maybe.”
“Such as?”
“There is a good price offered for the man who can find a volovolo size number thirty-two.”
“Oh ja? When did you hear this?”
“Monday, Lieutenant.”
“Who from?”
“The talk was all around.”
“And who’s doing the offering?”
“Ungasi, Lieutenant, but maybe I can find out.”
Kramer stood undecided for a moment. This could be something or nothing; it was difficult to tell. Backchat could simply have picked up a garbled story based on the efforts Zondi and he had been making over the last six days to trace the firearm used on Bradshaw. Yes, he must have done because, setting aside the criminal involvement aspect, the time factor wasn’t right.
“Which do you mean, Backchat,” he asked as a double-check on this, “Monday two days ago, or the Monday before that?”
“Hau,
this
Monday of
this
week, Lieutenant—and the news was very fresh.”
“Ja, it’s okay, I know about that,” said Kramer, dropping some silver into the collecting tin. “But you keep your eyes open for a giant, you hear me?”
“God blessing you, Lieutenant!” chuckled Backchat, and quickly emptied out the tin behind his chest.
Kramer strode on up the lane. The Aquarius Health and Fitness Center looked nothing too special from the outside, which was contrary to what he had been led to expect: it was just a long stretch of whitewashed brick wall punctuated by little windows like portholes and by the backs of three large air-conditioners, struggling hard to remove the smell of rich man’s sweat. He pushed open the big black wooden door, in which someone had wasted a great number of huge nailsto
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