The October Killings by Wessel Ebersohn Page A

stayed in the corridor with the door open. Both warders had slipped the revolvers from their holsters.
    No one made any movement toward shaking hands. “Thank you for seeing us,” Yudel said.
    Van Jaarsveld said nothing. He was again staring at Abigail. His head moved slightly from side to side as if he was clearing the way for some distant memory. He took half a step in her direction. The slow beginnings of a smile were forming around his mouth and eyes.
    â€œStay where you are,” one of the warders said.
    â€œWe have a matter that we want to discuss. We think it may be of importance to you,” Yudel said.
    By now the smile was fully formed. It was an expression that suggested that he knew and there was no use denying his knowledge. Yudel glanced at Abigail over his right shoulder. She had stopped a pace behind him, but a little to the side to give herself a clear view of van Jaarsveld. The look on her face showed that whatever vulnerability Yudel had felt when they were up on the catwalk was nothing compared to what she felt now.
    â€œI know you,” the prisoner said to Abigail. His voice had the slightly jeering tone of one who had found them out. “You were in Maseru. You were smaller then, but I remember you. I let you go that time. You were lucky, very lucky that I let you go.”
    â€œYou did nothing to let me live.” To Yudel’s surprise her voice was strong and even. It was also cold and she was moving forward. “Leon Lourens saved me. You wanted to kill me.”
    â€œYou were lucky I was in a good mood.” He was nodding his head for emphasis. “If I’d been a bad mood you and that little wind-arse Lourens would both have been dead. I let you live.”
    â€œLike hell you did. You saved your own life.”
    â€œI was good to you. Not everyone was so lucky.”
    Abigail’s shoulders shook with a brief convulsion. It passed, leaving her shaken, but still closer to van Jaarsveld.
    â€œStand back, Miss,” the warder’s voice carried the note of command that came with years of authority over other human beings.
    â€œYes, stand back,” van Jaarsveld jeered. “What did you think you were going to do anyway?”
    â€œStand back, Miss. Right now,” the warder ordered.
    Yudel had her by the arm and was drawing her back. “Lourens was a comrade of yours in those days. We believe he may be in danger.”
    The disgust in van Jaarsveld’s face was visible. “Leon Lourens was never a comrade of mine. None of those bastards who kissed the ANC arse at that truth and reconciliation thing were comrades of mine. What I stood for then I still stand for now. I was protecting my people. I will not say, the way Lourens and all the rest did, that what I did then was wrong. Events have proven us right. Today the white man has been kicked out everywhere. We have lost our country.”
    â€œListen,” Yudel said to van Jaarsveld. “We’ve come here because we are trying to help some of your old comrades, not just Lourens. You may not realize it, but some of the other soldiers that were with you that night when you saw Miss Bukula in Maseru, have been murdered.”
    â€œI may not realize it.” Now he was crowing with the pleasure that comes with superior knowledge. “My little Jew friend, I know as well as you that there are only two of us still alive. And I am in here.” He turned his attention to Abigail. “In five days your little friend Lourens will be dead.” He stopped and looked from Abigail to Yudel and back to Abigail, a look of genuine surprise appearing on his face. “You didn’t know? You didn’t know that we are all that are left? Do you also not know that they all died on the same day of the year? And that day is only five days away.” He smiled at Abigail. “Lourens is as good as dead,” he said with real satisfaction. “Your own people are doing it. I