Death Dealing (18 page)

‘Waylaid? How do
you mean?’

‘I got waylaid,
Sibo. Ambushed by my own thoughts.’

‘What thoughts?’

‘I found myself
thinking that whatever happened I better ensure that I do enough to keep the
guys alive, so that they can face trial for what they did.’

‘Nothing wrong with
that.’

‘Maybe there is.
Maybe there
is
something wrong with
that. We know the courts aren’t coping. We know these guys are bribing people
in the system. We know that dockets are lost or stolen. We know that every time
an out-of-control thug kills a cop we’ll have a nice funeral and say the right
words and comfort the cop’s family and then we’ll move on. But when we kill the
thug we’ll have journalists looking for a story.
The cops are at it again
. IPID will do what they have to do, of
course. But it will be interviews and reports and more interviews and
assessments, hours on end. While the rapists and murderers are busy out there,
grateful that we’re too busy with our reports…’

 
Ryder paused. He wasn’t sure whether he
believed in what he was saying. Nyawula let him work his way through it.

‘Sorry,
Sibo.
I
believe only half of what I’m saying…’

‘Not
at all, Jeremy.
Me, too.
Every day I’m asking myself the same
questions as you.’

‘The simple fact,
boss, is this. If I had destroyed those bastards the way Koeks wanted me to,
Khuzwayo would be alive today. Because of me, Hlengiwe Khuzwayo has now lost
her husband, too. Do you know what Khuzwayo’s last words to me were?’

‘What? What did he
say?’

‘He said
these men have to be dealt with
… I
failed him, Sibo. I failed Kwanele Khuzwayo. Like we fail citizens every single
day. We might be arresting the bastards but we aren’t dealing with them. We’re
not dealing out the right kind of justice.’

‘We don’t deal out death, Jeremy.
That’s not our job.’

Nyawula’s words
were spoken more in mild protest than in reprimand. He found himself speaking
only half-heartedly. He could see that mere words were not going to work on his
best detective just yet. Ryder needed time as well as words. He needed to work
the pain through his system.

There was a pause.
Then Nyawula tried another tack.

‘Maybe it’s simpler
than we think, Jeremy. Maybe we need to accept that there are and there always
will be people out there willing to do the work you’re thinking about right
now. What we need to do is not just throw in our lot with them and become
vigilantes ourselves.
Guy with the
biggest gun wins
, as I said to the team just now. Maybe we need to accept
that there will always be vigilantes. Sometimes they’ll get it right. Sometimes
they’ll get it wrong. But if we can continue to hold true, then there’ll always
be an identifiable line that we can defend. We can’t all be vigilantes. There
have to be some of us saying, wait just a minute…’

Ryder stopped him
with both hands up, as if in surrender.

‘I’m sorry, Sibo.
Sorry.
Of course.
You’re right. I know. You know I
know. I know you know I know. What am I doing here? Just letting off steam.
That’s all. What better person to put up with my steam than you. I just needed
to sound off. Don’t worry. But in addition, don’t have too high expectations of
me. Put me in front of the devil next time and I’m not likely to handcuff him.
Instead, I’ll just stick his trident through his brain.’

06.10.

After the shock of
the early morning call from Pauline the day before, the Ryders reverted to a normal
wake-up time. They showered and dressed and did the preliminary chores necessary
for the working day. They sat in the kitchen over the remnants of breakfast. As
early as it was, they could tell the day was going to be another blistering hot
one.

She could see that
he was still deeply disturbed about the news of Kwanele Khuzwayo. He had
crawled out of bed, and had been completely silent in the shower. No singing.
As a result, instead of getting downstairs to do the coffee she had remained in
bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking through the shocking news from the
hospital. How was Hlengiwe Khuzwayo going to cope? Would she also simply want
to give up and end it all?
Surely not?
She had her
daughter to help through rehabilitation. After the deeply traumatic events of
Monday, which Jeremy had described to her, she wondered how any parents could
possibly cope after seeing their family butchered by a bunch of drug-infused
wild savages. She understood what must have motivated Kwanele. She was sure
that if her own family had been senselessly slaughtered, she, too, would find
some weapon and try and wreak some vengeance upon the perpetrators. Would she
then end it all? She didn’t know.

Where was all of
this leading to, she wondered? Was crime completely out of control? Would they
start seeing vigilante groups in places like Westville?
Would
the country become controlled ultimately by warlords
,
each protecting their own territories?
Survival of the most brutal?

They sat at the
table, both having showered and changed, and she tried to lift him out of his
depression. It was hard for her to find anything amusing in the morning
newspaper, so she talked briefly about office politics in her firm. That led to
some gossip about clients. With her husband largely unresponsive, and still
moody, that in turn also drifted away into silence.

He knew what she
was trying to do, and he felt bad about being so depressed. He realised he
should make some effort to drag his thoughts away from the Khuzwayo family and
try to lighten up.

‘Everyone confirmed
for tonight?’ he asked.

‘Yep. I’ve taken
the afternoon off. We’ll have slow-roasted lamb. Can you do your famous
potatoes?’

‘Sure. I’ll get
some whisky, too. With Mongezi here we’ll need another bottle.’

‘Oh rubbish. With
you
here, you mean.’

‘Can you have your
heavy skillet ready in case of any burglars?’

‘Don’t joke. You
never know what might happen.’

 
They both recalled for a brief moment the
traumatic events of a previous dinner party where they had worked together to
take down three armed and dangerous criminal intruders.

‘No problem,’ he
said. ‘
Sugar-Bear was away, then
,
remember
?
Lounging in luxury on a sheep-farm munching
braaivleis
bones while we had to defend the guests. This time he’ll be here to stand
guard.’

The dog, hearing
its name mentioned, stood up on its hind legs, whining and pawing at her.

‘Yes, you,’ she
said to the animal, as if speaking to a three-year old child. ‘If you had been
here we could have just carried on with our conversation and you would have rounded
up the three bad men, hey?’

She tweaked his
ears and gave him a piece of bacon rind, which he took in gratitude back to his
box.

‘Actually, I’m glad
he wasn’t here,’ she said. ‘Those guys might have shot him. Don’t know how I
would have coped if someone killed Sugar-Bear.’

‘You mean you could
lose me easily enough, as long as you don’t lose the dog?’

‘Yep,’ she said. ‘Sugar-Bear
is easier to manage than you. More coffee?’

‘Do I need to
answer that question?’

‘Course not,’ she
said. ‘How would I possibly ask you such a thing?’

She poured them
each another mug while she spoke.

‘I hope Marcus
behaves himself tonight. Theresa told me on the phone he’s in the middle of
writing a radio drama and he’s always at his pontificating worst when he’s busy
writing a radio drama.’

‘
Absolutely
,’ said Ryder, mimicking the
voice of their good friend Marcus.

‘Don’t be naughty,’
she said, bringing the mugs back to the table and sitting down. ‘I hope you’re
going to behave tonight.’

‘What on earth
could you possibly mean?’ he said, all innocent.

‘Please don’t goad
the guests,’ she said. ‘Otherwise I’ll put you in the box and have Sugar-Bear
at the head of the table. At least he won’t snarl at the guests the way you do
sometimes.’

‘I’ll behave,
promise.’

He perused the
newspaper as she continued.

‘I’ll call the
hospital later and find out how Nadine is doing. I’ll let you know. I’ll also call
Pauline.’

‘
Thanks
,
love
. Should we invite Pauline to join us for dinner?’

‘I thought of that,’
she said. ‘But I think the last thing Pauline wants is a crowd of people around
her while Nadine is all alone in a hospital ward.
Especially
during visiting hours.
Maybe she’d prefer to come along and have
breakfast on Saturday or Sunday. I’ll ask her. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she
knows we’re here for her if she needs anything. Anyway, I’m glad you aren’t
caught up in that other thing planned for tonight.’

‘You can say that
again. It’s a good night for me to be let off the hook,’ he said. ‘It’s going
to be a big operation across the whole city.’

‘You mentioned that.
Operation something-or-other.’

‘Operation
Swingback.’

‘Swingback. That’s
it. Is your team involved?’

‘Only
KoeksnDips.
They drew the short straws.’

‘What do they all hope
to achieve?’ she asked.

‘There’s going to
be a planned joint effort across the city. But only four clusters involved this
time.
Brighton Beach, Central, Chatsworth and Pinetown.
They’re doing a co-ordinated raid on about thirty shebeens across the city
tonight. Then they hope tomorrow the taverns will think that that was it and there’ll
be no more for a while. But they’re going in again to the same places for a
second night tomorrow.’

‘How far will they
reach? Isn’t the real money down in Umlazi or up in KwaMashu?’

‘Good
question.
My
first reaction to the plan was that they should have cast the net wider. Inanda
and Umlazi should have been in on the plan. That’s where the real action is,
for sure.
But no.
Just the four clusters. Anyway, good
luck to them. Should send out a good signal. The main goal is to try and kill
the
whoonga
trade in a few key
places, just for a while. Quite an optimistic goal, don’t you think?’

They could hear the
boys stirring. She called out to them.

‘Jonathan! Jason!
Half an hour! Dad and I are having a hot breakfast for a change. Want some?’

The replies were in
unison, shouted with the kind of croaky voice that only teenage boys can
produce at six-thirty in the morning. The answer was in the affirmative, so she
began a new round of bacon, much to the delight of Sugar-Bear.

The day began.
Ryder wondered whether Kwanele Khuzwayo would soon fade from his consciousness,
and be replaced by new victims, new traumatic incidents, and new criminals on
the block.

13.10.

Koekemoer,
Dippenaar, Pillay and Cronje were sitting in Nyawula’s office while he was out
at a meeting. They were cursing about the latest electricity outage. The office
was sweltering. It had one more window than Cronje’s office, so they had opted
for that. The windows were open. No fans could operate. Computers were down.
The back-up generator had failed. They sat, melting in their chairs, sleeves
rolled up, sipping on the ice-cold cans of Fanta and Coke that Cronje had
managed to buy from the vendor in the street.

‘
Jirra
, Koeks,’ said Dippenaar. ‘I hope
the weather changes before tonight,
jong
.
I don’t fancy going into those shebeens in this heat. Imagine.’

‘Shame,’ said
Pillay. ‘I feel for you guys. Imagine. Going into a tavern in this heat with a
couple of hundred sweaty bodies already pushing up the temperature.’

‘Not to mention all
the
gif
everyone will be smoking,’
added Cronje.

‘Want to swap with
me, Navi?’ asked Dippenaar, with no optimism regarding her reply.

‘
Ag
, Dipps, I wish I could help, hey? But
I’ve got such a
lekker
dinner lined
up for myself. Nice ice-cold wine.
Lovely salad and pasta.
Great movie on TV.
I wish I had drawn the short straw,
man, really. I’d love it if you were drinking icy cold wine and watching movies
and eating pasta with your feet up, and thinking of me out there in the
shebeens.’

‘
Fokoff,
Navi.
Yissus
, you know how to rub it in, hey?
And you,
Koeks?
Why are you so damn quiet for a change?’

Koekemoer just
stared at Dippenaar in reply. He was too hot and too tired to even offer a
riposte. They could hear Ryder and Tshabalala arriving in Cronje’s office.

‘In here,
kêrels
!’ Cronje called out to them.
‘It’s cooler in here.’

‘Cooler? You call
this cool?’ said Ryder as he entered and perched on the corner of the Captain’s
desk. Mavis came in and stood in the doorway.

‘Here, Mavis, you
want a Fanta?’

‘Thank you,
Oom
Piet, yes, please.’

‘Me too, please
Piet,’ said Ryder, and Cronje handed both him and Mavis a cold drink from the
icebox on the floor.

‘You want to swap
with me tonight, Jeremy?’ said Koekemoer. ‘I’ll pay you a million rands.’

‘No
thanks, Koeks.
Too small a price.
In any case, Fiona and I are
hosting a dinner party tonight.’

‘What about you,
Mavis?’ said Koekemoer. ‘I’ll pay you a million rands and the Captain a million
for substituting a constable for me tonight.’

‘No
thank you, Detective Koeks.
I’m going out tonight.’

‘
Jirra
. Dipps, all of these guys are
going out to dinner tonight while we have to go and do some sweaty dancing with
the drug addicts.’

‘Don’t worry,
Koeks,’ said Ryder. ‘I hear there’s going to be a wild thunderstorm tonight.
That should cool things down for you.’

‘
Yissus
, Jeremy.
I’m still feeling bad about
yesterday. I didn’t mean that old Khuzwayo…’

‘Forget about it,
Koeks. Don’t give it another thought. I know what you meant.’

There was a moment
of silence. They all felt a little awkward. Koekemoer’s comment of the day
before had clearly disturbed Ryder. Ryder felt that it was incumbent on him to
ease the tension over the matter.

‘Listen,
Koeks.
What
you said yesterday is very important. It’s something I think about every day.
Every murdering bastard we take down and put in jail is someone who might break
out or make bail or slip through the clutches of the law and kill again. Like
you, I want to take these guys into a dark room and employ some medieval form
of justice. But we don’t. Do we?’

‘We don’t,
ou boet
. We don’t.
Because
we have families.
If I didn’t have a family to worry about, well,
Jeremy, I have to tell you, I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t tell you. I think
about it every time I pull my weapon. But if some bastard did to my family what
those guys did to old Khuzwayo’s family…’

None of them had a
riposte to that. Ryder let Koekemoer’s words linger in the stultifying heat and
then broke the silence for a second time.

‘Anyway,
Koeks.
I just
want to assure you. What you said yesterday poses no problem. You were right.
It’s worth thinking through these things. Anyway. We’ll doubtless talk some
more about it.’

Ryder drained his
Fanta and threw the can expertly into the wastepaper bin in the far corner of
the room before continuing.

‘OK. I need to do a
couple of things. Piet, tell the boss, will you, that I’ll be down at IPID for
my third meeting with them this week, but I’ll come back around four o’clock if
he needs to catch up. OK, guys. Thanks, all. Good luck for tonight, Koeks,
Dipps. As I say, take your umbrellas.
Big storm brewing.
I’ll think of you both in the shebeens as we work our way through Fiona’s
slow-roasted lamb.’

‘Thanks, hey,
Jeremy,’ said Dippenaar. ‘If you want to bring in the bone for me, tomorrow…’