Broken (21 page)

Carrying the briefcase was also
a problem as it would be very noticeable. I bought a large rucksack
that I could stuff the briefcase into as I ran along the alleyway.
Then, just before I exited the alley I would sling it onto my back,
pull off the ski mask, put on my fake glasses and casually walk out
of the alley.

After much thought I bought a
sturdy black rubber truncheon just in case I encountered any
resistance from Mister Eksteen or an attempt was made to stop me as
I ran along the alley. I was determined not to use violence of any
kind but if my capture seemed imminent I wouldn’t hesitate to use
it. I also reasoned that if I brandished the baton should anyone
approach me it was likely to discourage them and allow me to
escape.

With my access to the investment
account cut off I could no longer feed my betting habit so I
focussed on the impending attack on the Mister Eksteen, the
bookmaker. In my mind I envisioned myself closing in on the man as
he drew level with the alley, which would be to his right, grabbing
the handle of the briefcase and ripping it out of his grip. As the
empty rucksack would be on my back, both of my hands would be free.
After some thought I decided that I would grab the briefcase handle
with my left hand as this would allow me to be between my victim
and the entrance to the alley. I also decided to hold the rubber
truncheon in my right hand, ready to strike if the bookmaker put up
enough resistance for me to have to subdue him. In that case I
would hit the man on the side of the head to stun him and cause him
to release the briefcase. Then I would make my escape along the
alley as planned.

I continued
to follow the horse races though, studying the form of the horses,
the success rates of the jockeys and trainers and placing imaginary
bets. The fact that the vast majority of my bets were unsuccessful
didn’t concern me as I reasoned that the more I learnt about horse
racing the more successful I would become. I kept telling myself
that I was on a learning curve and that it was only a matter of
time before I began to win regularly. And with the money that I got
from Mister Eksteen’s briefcase I would make a killing.

Cindy avoided
speaking to me about what I’d done to access the investment account
and I appreciated this. I knew that I had disappointed her but I
knew that I would soon win back her confidence in me when the money
from my successful bets began to roll in. I could see that she was
worried about the fact that the Child Welfare Department intended
to lay a charge of fraud against me. This threat didn’t worry me
though. I still maintained that the money was mine and the
Department had no right to prevent me from spending it in any way
that I pleased.

On the day of
the Charity Mile horse race I took a number of imaginary bets, none
of which were successful. In fact, none of them even ran a place.
Most of the races were won by the favourites and I usually avoided
backing them. But what really pleased me were the reports in the
newspapers and internet news services that the money spent by the
racing fraternity at the race meeting had set a new record. This
meant that Mister Eksteen would probably be taking a much larger
amount of cash to the bank on the Monday morning.

I tried to be
as relaxed and calm as possible as the day of the robbery drew
closer. It was vital to me that Cindy not become suspicious. And
even after the robbery I would have to be very careful. Cindy knew
what my income was and so I would have to be very careful about
spending the money. I decided that I would only use the money for
betting and as my winnings came in I would be able to justify any
extra money that I spent. I also decided not to bank any of the
money as depositing a large amount of cash just after a robbery had
been committed in the area was likely to attract the attention of
the police.

On the Monday
morning of the planned robbery I took great pains to behave
normally and as soon as Cindy had left for work I began to put my
plan into action. I put on my blue denim jeans, a dark blue shirt
and my grey running shoes. I then put on my dark blue windbreaker
and stuck the rubber truncheon in under my belt where I could
easily reach it with my right hand. I put my fake glasses in my
shirt pocket and slung the rucksack onto my back. I put on the ski
mask and rolled it up until it was just above my eyebrows. I left
the house and walked quickly to the betting hall.

It was still
early in the morning and there weren’t many people on the streets.
As the bank would only open in a half an hour’s time, I wandered
about on the pavement opposite the betting hall, constantly looking
at my watch and along the street as if I was waiting for someone to
arrive in a car and give me a lift. As the time for the bank to
open drew closer I began to worry that perhaps Mister Eksteen
wouldn’t go to the bank until much later in the morning when there
would many more people in the area. To my relief though, he
appeared at the door of the betting hall only a few minutes before
the bank was due to open.

As Mister
Eksteen began to walk along the pavement I casually crossed the
road and began walking behind him, gradually moving closer as he
approached the alleyway. I glanced around surreptitiously. There
were only three people in sight and all of them were walking away
from us. Mister Eksteen was wearing slacks, a sports jacket and a
grey felt hat and, to my relief, he was holding his briefcase in
his right hand. As he approached the alleyway, I rolled down my ski
mask to cover my face and withdrew the rubber truncheon from under
my jacket. As
Mister Eksteen drew level
with the entrance to the alley I rushed forward and grabbed the
handle of the briefcase with my left hand, just behind where he was
holding it. I could only get two fingers around the handle but it
was enough for me to get a strong grip. I yanked the briefcase
towards me, expecting it to break free form the book maker’s
grip.

Mister
Eksteen was a lot stronger that I’d expected and he didn’t lose his
grip on the handle of the briefcase. Being a lot shorter and a
great deal lighter than me I was able to pull him with me into the
alleyway very easily. He stared up at me his eyes wide with fear. I
raised the truncheon and hit him on the side of his head close to
his temple. His eyes rolled up under his eyelids, he let go of the
briefcase and slumped to the ground. I turned quickly and ran along
the alleyway towards the far end.

As I ran I pulled the rucksack
off my back and stashed the truncheon and the briefcase into it. I
pulled off my ski mask and stuffed it in as well and slung the
carrier onto my back. As I was almost at the far end of the
alleyway, I slowed to a walk, took my fake glasses out of my shirt
pocket and put them on. Without looking back along the alley I
stepped out onto the pavement and casually sauntered away. Nobody
took any notice of me.

Adrenalin
coursed through my whole body as I walked
along the pavement. The pressure and excitement that I’d
felt before, during and after attacking Mister Eksteen began to
take its toll. I felt drained. My heartbeat was still racing and I
was sweating profusely. I began to shiver as the shock of what I’d
done hit me. Bile welled up in my throat and I had to swallow
several times to prevent myself from vomiting. I stopped in the
shade of a shop awning and forced myself to relax. Gradually my
heartbeat slowed and the coolness of the sweat drying on my skin
rejuvenated me. The shivering stopped and I began walking again.
There were many more people walking on the pavements and cars
driving by in the streets than earlier but nobody took any notice
of me. I headed home.

I walked into
the deserted house and closed the door behind me. I went into the
lounge and stretched my arms above my head to relieve the tension
in my body. I slung the rucksack off my back and dropped it onto
the floor. I sat down on the couch and took a deep breath to calm
myself further. I lent down and began to open the rucksack. I
hauled out the briefcase and snapped open the catches. I turned it
over and poured the contents onto the carpet.

A thin
wad
of banknotes in different
denominations, fastened with a rubber band, fell onto the carpet
together with a bank deposit book. I frowned and turned the
briefcase around and looked into the dark interior. It was empty. I
picked up the bank deposit book. The amount of cash would be in the
book so I wouldn’t even have to count it. I opened the book. It was
a brand new book and only the first page had been filled in. It had
today’s date on it and Mister Eksteen's bank account number. I
looked at the total in the right-hand corner; eight hundred and
fifteen Rand. I couldn’t believe it. I had expected at least ten
times that amount. Then I remembered that many of the races on
Saturday had been won by the favourites at very low odds, including
the Charity Mile race, and not a single outsider had won a race.
This meant that the bookmakers would have had to pay out a lot more
money than usual. Unfortunately, as only the first page had been
used, I was unable to compare the total on the page with previous
deposits.

Leaving the
cash lying on the carpet, I stood up and went to the kitchen. I
switched on the kettle and made myself a mug of coffee. I went back
to the lounge and stood looking down at the empty briefcase. I had
to get rid of it. I could burn the deposit book but the briefcase
was too big. If I tried to burn it, it would create a lot of smoke
which would undoubtedly be noticed by the neighbours. And dumping
it in a pavement rubbish bin would be very risky. Eventually I
decided that the best way to get rid of it would be to leave it on
a bus. It would most likely be found by the cleaning staff that
evening and either stolen as it was empty, or placed in the
lost-baggage office where it would most likely remain for years.
But, so that the neighbours wouldn’t see me carrying it out of the
house, I put it back into the rucksack. I would leave the rucksack
with the briefcase inside it on the bus.

I left the
house with the rucksack slung on my back and walked to the nearest
bus stop. From the timetable in the shelter I saw that a bus was
due in ten minutes. I put on my fake glasses and waited. When the
bus arrived I climbed on. There were only three other passengers
and the conductor on board. I sat down near the back of the bus,
well away from the other passengers and pushed the rucksack under
the seat. I purchased a ticket from the conductor and waited until
the bus reached the next stop. As the vehicle slowed I stood up and
walked to the door. I was just about to step off the bus and onto
the pavement when I felt someone tap me on my shoulder. I turned
around quickly. The bus conductor stood smiling at me, my rucksack
in his hands.

“
You forgot
this.” he said.

“
Oh, thank
you.” I stammered as I took the rucksack and stepped out onto the
pavement.

As I walked
back home I realised that leaving the rucksack and the briefcase on
the bus had been a silly idea. I hadn’t even thought of wiping the
two items to get rid of my fingerprints that would surely have been
on the briefcases smooth metal handle and on the plastic straps of
the rucksack. And then I realised that the rubber truncheon was
also in the rucksack and my fingerprints would also be all over its
smooth surface. There would also be some of Mister Eksteen’s hair
and skin on it. Back in the house I stashed the two carriers into
the cupboard in my old bedroom and locked it. Until I found a safer
way of disposing of them they would have to stay there.

I put the thin wad of banknotes
into my wallet. I was bitterly disappointed. Eight hundred and
fifteen Rand was peanuts. I would never be able to get my betting
program started with that. I berated myself for not having taken
more notice of the race results on Saturday. I picked up the bank
deposit book and hurled it against the wall. It fell down onto the
floor behind the couch. I stalked out of the lounge and went into
the kitchen where I made myself a sandwich. As I sat at the table
eating, I shook my head in frustration. I had to have money; but
where could I get it?

***

“
So, what did
you do today?” Cindy asked as I sat down at the kitchen table where
she was busy preparing our evening meal. I took a sip of my beer
and lit a cigarette.

“
Nothing
much.” I said. “I spent quite a lot of time on the internet looking
for a job but there’s just nothing that I’m qualified to do. All
they’re looking for are accountants, pharmacists and advertising
copywriters."

“
I told my
manager, Mister Botha, that you were looking for a job but at the
moment Checkers is only looking for people to do menial jobs like
shelf-packing and offloading groceries from the trucks of the
suppliers. I’m sure that’s not the type of work you’re looking
for.”

I nodded and
took another sip of my beer. In the silence that followed I
wondered what Cindy would say if I told her that I’d spent the
early part of the day robbing an old man of his money.

“
Why is there
a pair of broken glasses lying on the coffee table in the lounge?”
Cindy suddenly asked. “They haven’t even got lenses in
them.”

I looked up
at Cindy and frowned. Then I remembered that I
’d left the fake glasses that I’d used during the robbery
on the coffee table.

“
Oh, I found
them lying on the pavement in front of our gate.” I lied. “I meant
to bring them in and throw them in the rubbish bin but I must have
got distracted and left them in the lounge.”