Trackers (3 page)

M:
Every time I had to report, I had to leave. For the drop.

W:
What happened after the drop?

M:
My last drop was Monday, Tuesday, the shit started, there
was a discreet silence between them. At first I thought it was some other
tension. Maybe over the shipment. Then yesterday I saw, no, it was only when I
was around that they got like that. Subtle, you know, very subtle, they tried
to hide it, but it was there. Then I began to worry, I thought, better keep my
ears open, something's wrong. And then this morning, Suleiman sat in council
and said I must wait in the kitchen with Rayan ...

W:
Suleiman Dolly. The 'Sheikh'.

M:
Yes.

W:
And Rayan . . . ?

M:
Baboo Rayan. A dogsbody, a driver. Just like me. We worked together. Anyway,
Rayan never said a word to me, which is really strange. And then they called
Rayan in too, for the very first time, I mean, he's a dogsbody like me, we
don't get called in. So I thought, let me listen at the door, because this
means trouble. So I went down the passage and stood there and heard the Sheikh
. . . Suleiman . . . when he said, 'We can't take any risks, the stakes are too
high.'

W:
The stakes are too high.

M:
That's right. Then the Sheikh said to Rayan: 'Tell the council how Ismail
disappears'.

W:
Go on.

M:
There's no going on. That's when they caught me.

W:
How?

M:
The Imam caught me at the door. He was supposed to be inside. They were all supposed
to be inside.

W:
So you ran.

M:
I ran, yes, and the fuckers shot at me, I'm telling you, these people are
ruthless. Intense.

W:
OK. Let's go back to Monday. At the drop you talked about 'lots of sudden
activity' .. .

M:
The last two weeks, yes. Something's brewing.

W:
Why do you say that?

M:
The Committee used to meet once a week, for months. Now suddenly, it's three,
four times. What does that tell you?

W:
But you don't know why.

M:
Must be the shipment.

W:
Tell me again about the phone call. Suleiman and Macki.

M:
Last Friday. Macki phoned the Sheikh. The Sheikh stood up and went into the
passage so that I couldn't hear everything.

W:
How did you know it was Macki?

M:
Because the Sheikh said, 'Hello, Sayyid'.

W:
Sayyid Khalid bin Alawi Macki?

M:
That's him. The Sheikh asked Macki as he was walking away, 'Any news on the
shipment?' And then he said, 'September', like he was confirming it.

W:
Is that all?

M:
That's all I heard of their conversation. Then the Sheikh came back and told
the others, 'Bad news'.

W:
Bad news. Do you know what that means?

M:
How would I know? It could be because the shipment is small. Or the timing is
wrong. It could be anything.

W:
And then?

M:
Then they left, the Sheikh and the two Supreme Committee members.
They went off to the basement. Then you must know, it's top secret.

W:
Would you say the shipment is coming in September? Is that
the conclusion you came to?

M:
Best guess.

W:
Is that a'yes'?

M:
That is what I think.

W:
And the shipment. Have you any idea what it is?

M:
You know, if it is Macki, it's diamonds.

W:
What does the Committee want with diamonds, Ismail?

M:
Only the Supreme Committee knows that.

W:
And no one else talked about it?

M:
Of course they talked about it, on the lower levels. But that is dicey intel,
you know that.

W:
Where there's smoke . . . What did the lower levels say?

M:
They said it was weapons. For local action.

W:
What do you mean?

M:
That was the rumour. They wanted to bring in weapons. For an
attack, here. For the first time. But I don't believe that.

W:
A Muslim attack? In South Africa?

M:
Ja.
Here. Cape Town. The fairest Cape.

2
August 2009. Sunday.

On the sixth floor of the Wale Street Chambers, in the director's
office of the PIA, the Presidential Intelligence Agency, Janina Mentz studied
the transcript with focused attention. When she had finished, she took off her
glasses and placed them on the desk. She raised her hands to rub her eyes.

She hadn't slept well, the news of the previous evening
gnawed at her, the amalgamation rumour. Strange enough to be true. Or partially
true. And what would become of her?

She was seen as an Mbeki appointment. The former president
had created the PIA. Although Mentz had not picked sides in the leadership
struggle, although she and her people did excellent work, the stigma clung. On
top of that she was new, only three months as director, no proven record with
which to negotiate for a new position. And she was white.

How much of the rumour was true? Mo Shaik as head of the
superstructure? Mo, brother of Shabir, the convicted, corrupt Shabir, former
friend of the new president. Anything was possible.

So many years of service. So much struggling and striving, so
much hard work to get here. Only to lose it all? No.

Janina Mentz lowered her hands and put on her glasses. She
reached for the Ismail Mohammed interview again. What she, what the PIA needed
to survive, was an Exceptional Alarm. A Big Threat, a Sensitive Issue. And here
it was, sent by the gods. Her responsibility was to exploit it.

She
turned to her computer and searched for the historical reports in the database.

Report:
South African Muslim Extremism revisited

Date:
14 February
2007

Compiled by:
Velma du Plessis and Donald MacFarland

1. Qibla in a new guise

Qibla was established in 1980 by radical Imam Achmed Cassiem
to promote the establishment of an Islamic state in South Africa, using the Iranian
revolution as its model. During the 1980s, Qibla sent members to Libya for
military training, and in the 1990s, operatives trained in Pakistan and fought
alongside Hezbollah in South Lebanon. After
9/11,
it also recruited fighters to send to Afghanistan.

Because of the clampdown on related organisation People
Against Gangsterism and Drugs (PAGAD) between
1998
and 2000, and the arrest of over one hundred Qibla supporters for violent
offenses, including murder, Qibla all but disappeared.

In
its place, a new, and far more secretive organisation was created. It is called
The Supreme Committee.

3 August 2009. Monday.

Milla Strachan pulled the key out of the lock, pushed the
front door open, but did not immediately enter. She stood a while, her body motionless,
her dark eyes unfocused for a moment. Beyond the open door the rooms of the
apartment were empty. No curtains, no furniture, just a worn wall-to-wall
carpet of washed-out beige.

Still she hesitated at the door, as though some great force
held her back, as though she were waiting for something.

Then in one swift movement she bent down, picked up the large
travel cases on either side of her and stepped through the door.

She put the luggage down in the bedroom, conscious of the
depressing emptiness. When she had been here on Saturday, the former tenant's
furniture had filled it still, stacks of cardboard boxes for the hasty trip to
Germany, called back on short notice to an aid organisation's head office. 'I
am so grateful that someone saw the advertisement, this is such a crisis. You
won't be sorry, look at the view,' the woman had said and pointed at the
window. It looked out on Davenport Street in Vredehoek - and a thin slice of
the city and the sea, framed by the blocks of flats opposite.

Milla had said she wanted the flat, she would sign the lease
agreement.

'Where are you from?' the woman asked.

'Another world,' Milla answered quietly.

The three of them sat around the round table in Mentz's office,
each noticeably different. The director had a strong face, despite the large,
wide mouth, lipstick free. The severe steel-rimmed spectacles, hair tied back,
conservative outfit, loose, grey and white, as if she wanted to hide her
femininity. Faint, old traces of acne down her jaw disguised with foundation,
slender fingers without rings, nails unpainted. Her expression was mostly
inscrutable.

Advocate Tau Masilo, Deputy Director: Operational and
Strategy. Forty-three, fiat-bellied, colourful braces, matching tie, just a
touch of flamboyance. The facial features strong, with gravitas, intense eyes,
hair short and neat. Masilo's staff referred to him as 'Nobody' - from the
phrase 'nobody's perfect'. Because in their eyes, Tau Masilo, phlegmatic and
accomplished, was perfect. He was SeSotho, but he spoke five other South
African languages effortlessly. Mentz had hand- picked him.

And then, Rajkumar, Deputy Director: Information Systems. The
Indian with his long black hair down to his tailbone. Mentz had inherited him.

Rajkumar's saving grace was his phenomenal intellect and his
insight into electronics and digital communication, because he was fat to an
extreme degree, over-sensitive, and socially inept. He sat with his forearms on
the table, pudgy fingers intertwined, staring intently at his hands as if he
were totally captivated by them.

Mentz got up slowly. 'Any other evidence?'

Rajkumar, ever ready and keen: 'The Supreme Committee's email
traffic - there is a definite escalation. I think Ismail is right, they're
cooking up something. But I have my doubts about the target...'

'Tau?'

'What bothers me are the reports from Zim. Macki is no longer
a player - he and Mugabe can't stand each other.'

'Possibly not. Perhaps directly from Oman, perhaps from another
source. Angola is a possibility.'

'And the fact that they are planning something in the Cape?'
Mentz asked.

'I agree with Raj. Firstly: local terror would make their
partners very unhappy. Hamas and Hezbollah are very grateful for our government's
sympathy and support. Secondly: how do they benefit? What is the purpose? I
can't see anything logical they can achieve through that. Thirdly: what would
the motive be? Now?'

'Afghanistan,' said the Advocate. 'That's the new flashpoint.
The mujahideen need more weapons and supplies, but how can they obtain them?
Pakistan is working closely with the USA, blocking all the holes. NATO is
keeping an eagle eye on traffic out of the Middle East. Thanks to the pirates,
Somalia is no longer an option.'

'Price of opium is down too,' said Rajkumar. 'Taliban cash
flow is not what it used to be.'

'So where do you send your supplies from?' asked Masilo and
answered his own question: 'From here.'

'How?'

'I don't know. By ship?'

'Why not?' asked Rajkumar. 'Afghanistan has no coastline, but
Iran has.'

'Then why not ship the arms from Indonesia. Lots of angry
Muslims there.'

'Good point. Perhaps because that is what the US will be
thinking too. They have a big naval presence ...'

They looked towards Mentz. She nodded, pushed the papers into
a neat pile in front of her. 'And yet, according to Ismail they are talking
about a local attack ...'

'On the lower levels.'

'You know how information filters down from the top, Raj.'
She looked at Masilo. 'How easy is it going to be for us to replace Ismail
Mohammed?'

'Not easy. Ismail's escape ... it made them jittery. They
don't meet in Schotschekloof any more, we still have to ascertain where their
new hide-out is. If there is one.'