by Jon Zackon
Silence.
“Theo, you told me that you and Angie love your nieces as if they are your own daughters. This document in my hand can cause them nothing but grief. I have no desire to hurt them. If you tell me the truth I promise to destroy it immediately. So what’s it to be?”
“Just like that? It’s not so bloody easy, man. This all goes back a long way.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll ring off and give you twenty minutes to think about how and what you’re going to say. But remember this – if I think you are lying or withholding something at any stage, that’s it. Straight to the post box. And by the way, I have gathered a little information myself, so don’t think you can fool me. Twenty minutes …”
I put the phone down.
While I wait I take the document out of the envelope. I tried reading it on the plane but found it difficult. It’s written in High Dutch or hi-fallutin’ legalistic Afrikaans. Either way I can’t understand the detail but I get the gist of it. And certain things are obvious.
It is the last will and testament of one Jacobus Wilhelm van Blatter, better known as Koos van Blatter.
The first section revokes all previous wills, but takes at least five paragraphs to say so.
Then there is the first shock. Martinus Jordaan Blaine is named as joint executor, along with one of the solicitors. And the next bit is the most shocking of all. The bulk of Koos’s estate, including investments and three farms, is left to the children of said Martinus Jordaan Blaine. Marty is left a store in Potchefstroom that he has been managing for some years. The will stipulates that he will also be allowed to go on living on one of the farms until his death.
There are codicils, or legacies, or whatever, which appear to leave bits and pieces to Koos’s daughters and nephews. These include family papers and portraits, Boer War regalia, furniture and such like. I can make out nothing at all for his ex-wife, Rita. It all adds up to a final fucking kick in the belly for her and her children.
The document is duly signed, witnessed and dated.
I’ve no doubt it is legally sound. I doubt, though, whether the courts would go along with all of it. These days families get a better deal from inheritance case judges. Well, certainly in the UK. But getting to that point in a South African court could take years of legal squabbling, with the fees reaching astronomic proportions and greatly depleting the value of the estate.
There is another, more human factor involved – here is your own father cutting you out of his will. Koos’s daughters would surely find that distressing.
Theo knows all this, I’m sure. I almost feel sorry for him. There he was, dying of cancer, when he came up against Koos in that monster’s cruellest cat and mouse mood. Perhaps Koos was angry because Theo had raided his farm. Who knows? What seems obvious is that Theo has been teased unmercifully in the last six months since the will was signed, with Koos repeatedly threatening to send it off to his solicitors.
And now I’ve done Theo an enormous favour by seizing it. He probably knows Koos is dead and all he has to do is honour me with the truth and his family problems will vanish.
Why didn’t he tell me the truth in the first place? He had the opportunity when we met at his house in Durban, but instead he lied to me. I’m pretty sure it was because he was desperate for me to kill Koos and destroy the will. He must have believed that telling me about Marty’s role in Ruth’s death would weaken my resolve.
I phone again.
Theo answers and says, “You’re not taping this, are you Danny?”
“On my honour, I’d never do anything like that. I told you this in Durban.”
“OK, OK, man. Forget I said it. I take it that what you want to know is everything about how Ruth Fall died, ja?”
“Correct. Fire away.”
“I’m going to start with the first trip me and Louis made to Koos’s death farm. And this is the truth. Along with the Ford pick-up we also found a rusty old maroon Morris Oxford. There was a big dent in the front fender – on the passenger side. I’m not an accident expert but it looked like this dent had been caused by the car hitting a leading edge on another car. You know, like the edge of a car door. We could still see flecks of grey paint embedded in the cracks. Miss Fall’s Hillman Minx was grey, ja?”
Theo pauses. I can hear him catch his breath, perhaps stifling a cough.
Then he continues, “Louis pulled the Oxford’s front door open and got in. He started searching the car and opened the cubbyhole. What he found was just unbelievable. Under the driver’s handbook was some garage correspondence, including a service sheet. At the top, where the garage puts the owner’s name, it said Mr Martinus Blaine.
“Danny, that cunt Blaine and Van Blatter were so fucking arrogant, so sure they’d never be caught, that they didn’t even bothered to clear out any evidence. They simply dumped the car and left it to rust away. The date on the service sheet was significant. Twentieth of January, 1962 – just a short time before Miss Fall was killed. My immediate thought was that Blaine bought this car with the specific purpose of killing Miss Fall before driving to southern Natal to dump it at Koos’s farm. It was a second hand car so it would have been serviced by the garage as part of the deal. Even if Marty didn’t ask for it.
“You can imagine how I felt when I saw this shit. God’s honour, Danny, until then I had no idea Marty was involved. I was even angrier with him than I was when Koos attacked my sister. I went looking for him as soon as we got back to Durban. I knew where he was. When Koos quit the police and bought the hardware store he hired his pal Marty as an assistant. Then, when Koos left Durban, Marty became manager. I walked into the store around closing time. Marty was locking up. I marched him into an office and grabbed him by the throat. I told him I’d found the car and the piece of evidence. I explained he was not in danger of prosecution – but if he didn’t tell me exactly what happened, how Ruth Fall died, then I was going to break his fingers one by one. Then his arms and then his legs. I grabbed his hand and he screamed and said he’d tell me everything ... er …”
Theo coughed. “Hang on, Danny. Shit. My throat. I’ve got to stop for a drink, man. Hang on …”
Come on Theo, hurry up, please!
“Ja, that’s better. Where was I … oh yes, what Marty told me. You’re not going to like some of this, Danny.”
“That’s my business. Just keep going.”
“OK, OK. After Marty was sacked he was very bitter about you. So Koos says to him, why not make a play for Danny’s girl? Apparently, Koos knew all about you and Ruth Fall. And Marty says he remembers Ruth from when she was a schoolgirl. They’re the same age and they met in their teens. You’re out of the picture in London, so he tries to date her. He even goes to the hospital to talk to her. Naturally she doesn’t give him the time of day. And that makes him very angry. Marty told me that Koos fed his anger and suggested they kill her. Koos still couldn’t forget how you had rubbed him up the wrong way. He wanted blood. Marty was shocked at the suggestion but Koos was always bullying him into doing things. He was terrified of Koos. Anyway, Koos began to watch Miss Fall’s movements. After a week or two he came up with a plan.
“They bought the old motor and sat in it outside the hospital for four nights running, waiting for her shifts to end. But she doesn’t turn up until the fourth night. Then they spot her crossing the road. As she tries to get into her car Koos orders Marty to drive at her. If he refuses, Koos says he will ‘take care’ of him. So Marty does what he’s told – and that’s how it happened. To be honest, Danny, it sounds like Marty was a pretty willing accomplice.”
“Dear God. What an evil pair.”
“Ja. But I wasn’t finished with Marty yet. I went back to Durban Central and looked up the case. There was nothing there. All the witness statements were missing, although I distinctly remember there was one witness who said he saw the collision that night. So I go back to Marty and ask him to clear up this side of it. He laughs at me.
So I say, what the fuck are you laughing at? And this, Danny, is what he tells me – the witness who saw the collision gave police a description of the hit-and-run car that fitted a Morris Oxford. The witness said it could have been maroon but it was dark and he couldn’t be sure. He was reasonably sure, however, that there were two people in it.
“Danny, Marty laughed his head off as he told me that the detective in charge of the case amended this statement leaving out the detailed description of the car and the fact that there were two people inside. This made it impossible for the investigation to get off the ground. So I say to Marty, who was this detective? And he doubles up laughing again and says, don’t you remember? You put him on the case! It was Koos, of course. And it was fucking well true, Danny. I sent Koos out on the case after the witness had made his statement. I thought there’d be an easy clear-up. How could I have guessed that I was sending one of the killers to investigate a murder he has helped to perpetrate? And how bad would that make me look if anyone ever found out? Can you see why I’ve wanted to bury the truth?”
“What about the witness?”
“What do you think? He was an African milkman delivering pints early in the morning. A few weeks later he vanished never to be seen again.”
“Oh, shit. It just takes the breath away. Shit, shit, shit.”
“Ja, man, I know.”
I suddenly feel sick. I say, “Theo, I’ll call you back in a few minutes, OK?” and put the phone down.
It takes a few minutes for my head to clear and my stomach to settle. Then I phone back.
“You OK, Danny?” says Theo. “Good. Anyway, I’m nearly finished. So after I questioned Marty I told him to get out of Durban for good. He got Koos to sell the Durban store and buy a business in Potchefstroom for him to run. I think they also owned one in Klerksdorp, which is not far away.”
“Do you think Marty was involved in Koos’s other killings?”
“No evidence, but he must have been.”
“And the torture?”
“Same.”
“Do you think they had some gay thing going on?”
“Danny, I really don’t know. Honest. We’re talking about a very mysterious relationship between two very evil men. All I can tell you is that Marty had very little personality of his own. He was like a sheep the way he followed Koos around. And who knows what Koos made him do?”
“Something else puzzles me, Theo. You were the only person who knew I was going to Koos’s farm yesterday. How the fuck did Marty know I was there?”
“The farm Marty rented from Koos is less than half an hour’s drive from Van Zeeder’s Plaas.”
“Yes, but how did he know I was there?”
Theo pauses. Then, with what sounds like a degree of reluctance, he says, “When you drove through the gate you broke an electronic beam that set off an alarm in Marty’s house. He wouldn’t have known it was you but as you can imagine, the last thing they wanted at that place was a visitor – any visitor. So Marty would have raced there to get rid of you.”
I’m no longer listening.
“A beam,” I say. “How do you know there’s a beam, Theo?”
He takes a little while to answer.
“Louis told me,” he says.
“Louis? When?”
“About two hours ago.”
I can hardly believe it. Louis the sanitizer. Already at the farm, bleaching, whitewashing, burning and scrubbing away. Probably with a couple of police pals to help him.
I wanted all the evidence preserved. I envisaged an inquest at which Koos’s murderous perversions would be exposed to the world.
Fat chance. Here I was yet again – without a shred of evidence.
“I did wonder why you referred to Marty in the past tense just now, Theo. You already knew he was dead. And that’s why you haven’t asked me what happened yesterday. Louis has already told you everything.”
“Yes, Danny, he has. But we have a deal, my friend. You may be disappointed in the outcome but I’ve told you the truth. All of it.”
He’s right. I can’t renege. In any case, and I’m sure he must have considered this – I’d never have posted the will. That would have been doing Koos’s dirty work for him. So Theo could have called my bluff at any time, but hasn’t. In the end, he has told me the truth because he must have felt I deserved to know it. I’m not ungrateful.
“Astonishing isn’t it, Theo – I didn’t have to kill either of them.”
“No, I know. And you may not believe this, Danny, but I’m glad you came out alive.”
“Thanks, Theo. But I’ve got to tell you something – well, two things. The first is that I am right now busy tearing up Koos’s will. And the second is this, even without evidence I am going to tell my story. I have no option. I want people to know what South Africa was like under apartheid. I want them to hear about the brutality. And that goes double for police brutality. Sorry, Theo, but that’s the way it is.”
“That’s OK, Danny. Don’t worry about it. But you can’t substantiate one bloody word of it can you, my friend? So no one’s ever going to believe you anyway.”
Epilogue
1997
THEO DIED last week. Eric wrote and told me. I have to admit I was sorry to hear it, although he remains an extremely enigmatic figure to me.
Theo did things that were truly disgraceful – well, that’s not quite true. He didn’t do anything. And that’s the point. His sins, his crimes, were those of omission. He alone had it in his power to stop Koos van Blatter’s killing spree. Theo saw Koos trying to rape and kill me and said and did nothing about it. Except kick the wrong person out of Durban.
Still, he did save my life and eventually he told me everything I wanted to know.
Deep down he was a good guy who got it wrong. Some people would applaud his loyalty to his family. But it came at the expense of Koos’s many victims.
Of Koos there is very little left for me to say. For over three decades I accused him in my mind of killing Ruth. Then, for a very short while, I believed that Marty was her sole killer and my brain had to perform a painful somersault. What Theo told me put the record straight. Ruth died because of Koos’s murderousness, his perverse mentality. He didn’t have to be at the wheel of the car when he had such a scummy acolyte as Marty to do his dirty work. Fortunately, there are not many people around like Koos.
Yes, there are a lot of unanswered questions about his personality, his upbringing and his actions. But they can never be resolved. How I would love to know the exact nature of his madness, though. Was he a narcissist of the sort described by Ivan Leitener? That still seems the obvious conclusion. I remember Koos sitting at his backdoor when I raised the vexed question of his relationship with his father. He simply got angry and swore at me. At the time I was some distance from him, down two flights of steps. And yet – was it a trick of my imagination, or did I really see his face crumple for a second or two, like a child’s might? Did I see tears well up in his eyes only to vanish in a tirade of abuse? I can’t be certain but that’s the impression I am left with.
In his letter, Eric also told me about the double inquest. I wish now that I’d met Theo’s son, Louis. The boy is a master of his trade. As a result of Louis’s handiwork, I’m sorry to say, nothing dreadful came out of the hearing.
The coroner said that former Durban detective Jacobus van Blatter, ill with fever, shot and killed his business partner, Martinus Blaine, after mistaking him for an intruder, and then turned the gun on himself, possibly in grief over his blunder. No mention of bodies. No mention of a smashed kneecap. No mention of AIDS. No mention of the presence of a third party – me!
Verdicts: accidental death in Marty’s case and suicide while balance of mind was disturbed for Koos.
Ha, ha. Koos’s mind disturbed? For once you got it right, Mr Coroner, although you don’t know the half of it.
Things are on the up for me. I wrenched my shoulder in Koos
’s death chamber but that’s feeling a lot better now. And next week I’m going for arthroscopic surgery on my knee. After all the years since Koos attacked me a scan has shown up tiny splinters under one side of my kneecap. The doctors believe they can finally cure my limp. We’ll see.
The angina is a different matter. The cardiologist says I might need stents in my blocked artery. He has put me down for a probable angioplasty the month after next. He still doesn’t believe I’m in great danger – but then, he doesn’t know what happened in Koos’s dungeon.
Karen phoned me last week. She started crying over the phone, said Harvey Rees-Rendell was a bastard. The flash City git had left her in the lurch. I was sympathetic. Why not? It is lonely on your own in a big house in Esher. We’re having lunch tomorrow.
But if she wants to repair our marriage she will have to realise that things can never be quite what they once were. We can do it for companionship and for the sake of our kids and grandkids, and leave it at that.
And there’s one massive proviso. It concerns the framed photograph of Ruth given to me by Steven Fall. I love this photograph. It resides on my desk, in my den, next to the one of Ruth running from the surf at Ballito Bay and the one of us standing together on the beach. I gaze at them every day. Even as I type I can look up at them. Her beauty lifts my heart. I no longer feel depressed. I no longer have recurring nightmares. I suppose I really went to South Africa to prove my love for her. And I think I succeeded.
So I’m sorry, Karen, but those three photographs are staying where they are.
I also went to South Africa to keep a promise I made after Fazal’s suicide – that I would make Koos pay. I think I’ve done my best on that score as well.
Understandably, I still have some bad thoughts and moments. My mind returns on occasion to my last telephone conversation with Theo. I said that when we’d met in Durban I’d clean forgotten to ask him a key question: Exactly how many men and boys died at Koos’s farm in Natal?