Dark Intent (17 page)

Near Pretoria

Rupert Bosch was up early the next morning and he sat on the verandah, absorbing the vista. He was there for an hour and then cooked a plain breakfast of eggs and bacon. Replenished, he washed the plates and went to bath and dress for work.

He was in the office at nine and it took time for him to build up the vestige of enthusiasm that he needed to clear the desk of most of the papers he was working on.
A completely cleared desk would have drawn comments he could not face.

For the rest of the day, when he kept largely to himself, he saw no sign of John Kallis and he wondered if he had come in to work. They were on the same floor and it was surprising because he usually saw him at least once during the day.

At seven-thirty Bosch picked up his worn leather brief case and nonchalantly went down the stairs to the floor where the file was held. No one was around and when he came to the room he wanted, he inserted the key and entered. In a matter of seconds he was in the man-sized safe and his eyes focussed immediately on the black file that was lying on the nearest table, its usual place. The white file was noticeable by its absence.

Bosch picked up the document he had seen many times and slipped it into his case.
He locked the safe and external door and went swiftly to the nearest fire escape. The room he had just left was on the third floor and he increased his pace down the iron stairs until he reached ground level. There was one man on duty and he nodded briefly as Bosch went to the door that led to the car park. Once in his car he sped up the exit ramp out of the garage and accelerated in the direction of the Fontein public house where he was to meet John Kallis.

Near Pretoria

John Kallis had spent the day in his flat, having decided he deserved a day off and not wanting to see Bosch in the office.
He felt hugely satisfied knowing that very soon the black file would be in his hands. The way matters had fortuitously converged, for him to be presented the file on a plate, was to him nothing short of a miracle. What he wanted now was the white file and the conversation between Bosch and Nofomela could well guide him in the right direction. With both original files in his possession, he believed he had extensive leverage and choice in who he contacted about them. By far the most important thing to him was the sum of money that interested parties would pay him for getting sole ownership of the files. At this stage he had the time at his disposal to plan his next moves and keep his job in the group without being under any suspicion of taking the files. The group would now beg him to retrieve what he already had.

When Kallis pulled into the car park at the rear of the Fontein bar, he saw that Bosch was already there sitting in his Mercedes.
He parked a few cars away and, leaving his door open, approached him. He didn’t expect the delivery to take long.

As Kallis neared the car, Bosch rolled down the window.
‘Here’s the file. I want to get out of this place.’ He held up a nondescript package and poked it through the window.

Kallis took the package and opened the envelope.
He slid out a bulky black folder and read the inscription on the front. It said State Security 1960 to Present, File B. He turned from Bosch and partly peeled away the synthetic sheet attached to the back cover. The seal was there and that was enough for him. He closed the envelope and fastened it with the metal catch. He was confident Bosch knew what he would get if he betrayed him. He looked at him and grinned. ‘I’m sure you are packed. I don’t want to see you again.’

Bosch said nothing and ignited the engine.
With tyres screeching he drove to the exit and turned right, in the opposite direction of Pretoria. Kallis watched him go and then headed for Pretoria. He could not wait to read what lay so innocently on the seat next to him.

Pretoria

At nine the next morning, a man in the group offices went to the safe where the black file was kept.
He needed to pick up some important documents connected to the work in which he was involved As soon as he stepped into the safe he was amazed to see the black file was missing. He knew full well that even though others like him had access to the safe, nothing was to be removed from the room without authorization. He immediately phoned his boss, Johan Teichmann, and told him.

Teichmann was unnerved that, after the theft of the white file, the black file had now also gone missing.
He replaced the receiver and after coming to grips with what he had heard, put on his jacket and left for John Kallis’s office, two flights of stairs below. He felt Kallis was the only one he could trust in such matters, and he needed a man with determination and ability; it was the only chance of averting imminent disaster. The group leaders would be inconsolable when they heard the black file had gone missing.

John Kallis was on the phone when Teichmann entered his office and he instantly replaced the receiver.
After sinking his corpulent frame into the spare chair, Teichmann said: ‘I urgently need your help. The black file has disappeared.’

Kallis appeared to be stunned at the news. ‘When was it taken?’ he asked.

‘It must have been last night,’ said Teichmann. ‘No one would have risked it this morning with people coming to work.’ He breathed unevenly and went on. ‘I want you to drop everything and give this your undivided attention. The only exemption is the work you are doing in tracing the white file and that now has to run alongside this. I suggest you start by interviewing all those who have access to the safe, particularly the ones who were working on the files. They would all have known that the black file was complete and if they wanted to lift it now was the time to do it. And, importantly, see if any of these people has not turned up for work today.’

‘I’ll get onto this straight away,’ said Kallis, his face suitably expressionless.
‘While you are here may I ask if you have anything I don’t know concerning the other file?’

‘No,’ said Teichmann. ‘I will contact Jan Krige and tell him about the missing black file. He doesn’t work for us but with his contacts he might hear something. You must meet Krige one day.
He is a very capable man and an asset to any operation. Sadly, I heard this morning that his wife, Kirsty, has left him and is staying at the Plaza Hotel on the outskirts of Pretoria.’

Teichmann lifted himself out of the chair.
‘My hopes are resting on you,’ he said. He raised his hand slightly and walked from the office, leaving Kallis in thought.

Pretoria

After he had given the file to Kallis, Rupert Bosch drove for nearly ten kilometres along the road away from Pretoria until he came to a small private hotel where he had previously booked a room for the night.
He signed the register and when he reached his room he sat on his bed and reflected on the events of the past twenty-four hours.

The one thing that had occupied his mind was now becoming clear. He had no intention of walking away from what he had done, as Kallis had insisted.
If Kallis was really doing his job, he would have gone straight to Teichmann, given him the tape and revealed what he knew. Kallis had absolutely no reason to get him to remove the black file and tell him to disappear. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that Kallis wanted the file for personal gain and had used him for that purpose.

Bosch pursued the line of thinking that was beginning to coalesce in his mind.
He was coming to recognize that he was spending unnecessary time dwelling on what had occurred and not thinking about his future options. He knew that after a preliminary investigation, the group would quickly conclude that he was the perpetrator of the act. But they did not know where he was and if he was clever they never would. Kallis had unintentionally done him a big favour.

He started to work things out logically.
It was to his advantage that he was the only one who knew that Kallis had File B. The last thing Kallis would expect was that he would appear out of nowhere and force him to give it to him. That might mean killing Kallis, but, if that was the only way of keeping the man quiet, he had to do it. With the black file in his possession, his next step would be to find and retrieve File A, and that meant going after Jan Krige. If Krige did not have it, he would have to look elsewhere, as others in the group had been doing. With both files in his hands, he was in a position of considerable power and he guessed that Kallis would now want the white file for that reason. He was annoyed with himself for not stealing the black file for himself in the first place.

While he was lying on the bed, Bosch’s thoughts went to the two guerillas, Nofomela and Ngwenya.
He certainly was not going to tell them that Kallis had forced him to remove the black file from the group safe and give it to him. They would then go after Kallis. They, too, would by now be aware of the power the files held if both were possessed by one person. He decided to contact the guerrillas and touch base with them. He phoned the number Nofomela had given him. Ngwenya answered.

‘How are you?’ said Bosch.
‘I’ve been thinking of you guys, wondering if you have made any progress.’

‘Not yet,’ said Ngwenya, ‘but we’re ready to go after Krige. We wanted to rent a flat first so we have our own base but now we’ve decided to do that when we return. Is there anything you know that we don’t?’

‘No,’ said Bosch, hesitating slightly.
‘I’ll phone you if there is. I’m meeting someone so I must go.’

‘We’ll contact you because we might not return here after visiting Krige,’ said Ngwenya.

‘Good luck,’ said Bosch. He terminated the call.

When he heard the phone go dead, Ngwenya turned to Nofomela.

‘I’m sure you know who that was.’ said Ngwenya.
‘It was Rupert Bosch.’

‘Did he say anything interesting?’ asked Nofomela.

‘Nothing we haven’t heard before from him,’ said Ngwenya. He looked quizzically at Nofomela. ‘I got the impression that he was keeping something to himself and that his mind was elsewhere. For example, he made absolutely no comment when I said we are ready to go for Krige.’

Nofomela thought for a moment and then said:
‘We’ll phone him tomorrow at work and ask him to confirm Krige’s address.’

Pretoria

Late the following morning after Ngwenya had spoken on the phone to Rupert Bosch, John Nofomela stretched and shook Ngwenya to wake him up.
The two men had gone to a pub after speaking to Bosch and had drunk beer and whisky chasers, a volatile mix. They needed something to relieve the boredom they were beginning to feel and knew they had to get after Krige. Life in Pretoria was a far cry from the life they had led in KwaZulu-Natal, where danger was a continual presence. Their delay in going after Krige was that they wanted their own accommodation and they had been hoping for more from Bosch. But now the waiting was over.

Nofomela picked up the phone and rang Rupert Bosch at work.
The call was answered by a man whose voice was laced with authority.

‘Can I help you?’ the man asked.
‘This is Rupert Bosch’s number.’

‘I would like to speak to him if I may,’ said Nofomela.

‘Who is speaking?’

‘A close personal friend,’ said Nofomela. ‘I said I would phone him this morning.’

‘My name is Jacob Marais. I’m head of office security and I am afraid Bosch has not come to work. We have tried his home telephone number repeatedly but there is no reply.’

‘I am surprised,’ said Nofomela, saying what he felt.
‘We spoke to him last night and he sounded fine.’

‘We would like to contact him urgently,’ said Marais. ‘An extremely important and valuable file was taken from a safe last night and we hope Bosch can shed some light on this.
He is the only person we still have to contact who had unrestricted access to the safe. If you manage to find out where he is please let me know.’

‘I will,’ said Nofomela.
‘Thank you for your time.’ He replaced the receiver in its cradle and looked at Ngwenya.

‘Something very strange is going on,’ said Nofomela.
‘I think you might have been right in the comments you made about Bosch last night. I just spoke to the head of office security for the group and he said Bosch has not turned up for work. He also said they have tried repeatedly to get him at home, to no avail.’ Nofomela moved away from the phone and sat down. ‘The most interesting thing he said was that an extremely important and valuable file was removed from its safe last night and that Bosch is the only person they have not yet contacted who had access. To me this is too much of a coincidence.’

‘What do think is going on?’ said Ngwenya.
‘It looks as if Bosch is involved in the disappearance of the file. I wish he had elaborated and I can understand why. I suspect it was the black file.’

‘I agree,’ said Nofomela, unhesitatingly.
‘But we cannot contact him and for the moment we have to forget about it and get this business over with Krige.’

‘If Bosch took the file and did not tell us, he is definitely up to something,’ said Ngwenya.

Nofomela stood up and put on his jacket. He picked up a small canvass bag that contained chocolate bars and drinks, and took a Ruger P85 semi-automatic pistol, chambered for a 9mmx19 Luger/Parabellum cartridge, from the top draw of the dresser. He inserted a 15-shot magazine into the butt and slipped the weapon into a cut-away holster concealed beneath his coat. Ngwenya did the same and together they left the room. They had hired a 3.5 litre BMW which they parked in the basement of the building. When they were in the car, Nofomela extracted an area road map from his pocket and rested it on his lap. He started the engine, drove out of the garage and picked up the road that led to White River and the Kruger Reserve.