by Javi Reddy
What little money he had left, he would gladly drink away rather than squander on a hopeless prayer of making cash through gambling. The one safe bet lay in the glorious golden pillar in his hand, enriched with the finest hops and barley. Behind the bar counter, stood a busty woman with brown frizzy hair. She smiled at him amorously.
“What’ll it be, handsome?”
“And how many of these miserable souls have you used that line on?”
“Only the ones I want money from.”
“Straight to the point. You and I are gonna get along just fiiiiiiiiine.” She poured James a Castle draught.
“You got a name? I don’t mind using ‘handsome’ all night, but sometimes a girl likes to make it a little more personal.”
“James. James Tait.”
He offered her a handshake, which she duly accepted, with the slightest of pouts. “Linda. Linda Anderson.”
She placed her hand on his shoulder and ran her fingers down to his pec. “Nice jacket.”
He looked down at his favourite leather jacket. “Well, thank you. It’s very special to me.”
“And how’s that?”
She casually placed the tall glass on a red coaster in front of him. “Let’s just say it’s a family affair.”
“Tell me more,” she whispered to him.
He leant into her as she tilted her ear to him, utterly captivated.
“If I told you more, I’d have to kill you. Then, there’d be no one to serve me beer.”
She looked at him aghast and then playfully slapped him on the chin. From time to time, she’d giggle at his jokes. Her Alice-band neatly rested on her little head, pulling back her frizzy hair. Her shiny little stud earrings gleamed at James like the glasses she washed behind the counter.
“Vinny will see you now.”
James glanced up and noticed a man similar to his own height, but with a squeaky voice, addressing a smaller Indian man who was sitting at a table, to the left of the bar. James immediately recognized that he was the man from the semi-final. He had the same look on his face that he’d had at the game. The one that strayed away from any sort of emotion.
Tonight, he was dressed in a neat, brown suit and was carrying a black suitcase. Straight from work? Or straight to work? Both men disappeared behind a curtain. James crept over to the large, emerald-green curtain and peered around cautiously like a house-cat did when slinking over towards a bug. No one cared about him or his stealth. As long as the booze kept flowing and the bets kept rolling, a suspicious man meant nothing to them.
The corridor was extremely narrow and at the end of it there were two wider passages to walk down. James had no idea which one to take until he heard faint noises emanating down the left side. Left it was. As he passed this corridor, he noticed canvas pictures on the wall of half nude women, old moustached men in suits and even a few beer ads. He could have written better headlines. He’d kill to have a chance again. He eventually reached a pale-yellow door that was slightly ajar. The voices that he’d heard were coming from there:
“Mr Chetty, so nice of you to join me. Whiskey?”
Just the ‘W’ word was enough to sneak a peek around the door. The man in the brown suit shot Vinny an unwavering look and shook his head.
“I don’t drink. You know that.”
“I thought perhaps you got rid of that dull look? You should let loose once in a while, old man.” Vinny poured himself a double into a crystal glass full of ice. He did not add any water.
“Get to the point, De Silva. I haven’t got all day.”
“Don’t you? How much control do you have here? Take a seat. Have a drink, or watch me drink.”
Vinny gestured to him to sit down on the leather seat in front of the desk, where the bottle of whiskey, a host full of old papers and some containers lay. Preega did not move. Then, he glanced around to see the squeaky voice that had ushered him into this room. His hand was on the butt of a gun that was stuffed into his belt. Preega finally took the seat.
“So, what’s in the suitcase?”
Preega had both his hands fixed tightly on top of it as he remained fixed on Vinny with his stare. He opened the case and Vinny gave him a petulant laugh.
“I offer you 30-year-old whiskey and you offer me insults.”
“There’s R500,000 here. Take it and leave us alone.”
“Petty cash? For a man of such high intelligence, I find it disturbing that you think that’s what I’d want from you.”
“This is all I have. Take it, and leave me and my son alone.”
“I’m sure we can strike a better deal.” Vinny took another sip.
“Anyone would fear the form your son’s Rosebank team is in. But my group of boys are not anyone. They’ll find a way of crushing them. That final is a foregone conclusion, but after the defeat sinks in, well, that’s where I really come into play. That’s where I can ruin your son’s life.”
“Stop beating around the bush. Tell me what you want. Name your price.”
“Your son has something that I want. Something very, very valuable. He can’t do justice to its beauty. His childish and foolish love for life will be of no use to its true value.”
“What is it?”
“His girlfriend gave him a rare pendant. It has a very touching story behind it, but let’s be honest, Preega, my dear friend, it’s wasted on that little pipsqueak.”
“This is what this is all about? A little pendant?”
“It’s part of what this is about. I want that horn. Sooner, rather than later.”
Vinny poured himself another whiskey.
“I can make you a rich man. Help me get the pendant and I’ll reward you. That cash in your suitcase will look like pocket money once we’re done.”
Preega got off his seat and walked over to Vinny and squared up in front of him.
“Are you depraved? I’m not going to sell out my own son. I came here to negotiate with you, but I was foolish to believe that someone like you could be reasoned with. Stay away from us. I know enough about you to go to the police.”
Preega gripped his case and made for the door. The man with the gun moved across to stop him, but Vinny raised a hand to him to cease action.
“You make some valid points, Mr Chetty. But I always keep a trump card close to me.” Preega stopped before the door.
“You see, you always have to have an advantage when you’re out there. It’s what sets you apart from the rest. It’s what helps you avoid the so-called rat race.”
He walked over to Preega and placed a hand on his shoulder. He whispered into his ear:
“I’m not a rat, my friend. I’m the cat. And if I want, I can really, really sink my claws into you.” Preega turned to face him.
“What…what are you talking about?”
Vinny walked back over to the desk and took another sip. He then gripped one of the smaller containers that lay next to the bottle and proudly showed it off to Preega.
“Ever wondered how exactly the Inkanyambas got their in-road into the Staffords Cup? All those poor souls from Randburg who had to let go of their dreams because of their failed drugs tests?” Preega put his suitcase down and gave his attention to Vinny.
“Time for today’s lesson. Take notes if you want. The wonderful thing about those drug tests is that those silly officials aren’t actually looking for drugs within the kids’ urine samples. They’re looking for drug metabolites.”
Preega was trying to decode everything.
“Judging by that hapless look on your face, you’re wondering what gibberish I’m speaking. Well, let’s just say that whatever substance the body takes in, the end product that’s passed out looks quite different.”
He lifted his glass to Preega.
“Alcohol, for example, gets oxidised by the liver and comes out as water. That’s fairly simple. But when drugs are involved, that’s where the fun starts. Drugs go into the body in its psychedelic form and come out as metabolites. There are certain single
ingredients in drugs that can come out in different forms.”
Preega remained rooted to the ground in his current statue-like fashion.
“You don’t need to put drugs into the players’ systems to get them the unwanted attention. All you need is to get them to take something that has a similar effect on the metabolites. Like I did with the players who were banned from the quarter-finals. And just like I did with this one.” He tossed the container over to Preega who caught it awkwardly, like a toddler at fielding practice. James’ heart beat just as hard as he imagined Preega’s did, when he saw the name on the container in big bold writing.
JAY CHETTY.
“You son of a bitch.”
“And you’re the father of a cheater. At least, that’s what the board will think unless I get that pendant.”
“What did you put in his system? Did you get him in his sleep? What did you do to my boy?” Preega leapt forward to attack Vinny, but the man with the gun stopped him from making contact. Preega was eventually restrained and forced back down into the leather chair.
“The board knows that he doesn’t take supplements or steroids. Or whatever else you plan on framing him for—it’ll never slide. They’ll investigate everything properly and it’ll lead back to you! You hear me, you’re finished!”
“Steroids? Nah. Here is the perfect frame: your marvellous son has had a few seizures recently, and he’s a fairly rich kid. You don’t go to Rosebank unless you have a little money. So, he could have easy access to something that has actually been triggering his attacks. Something that’s not really affordable to everyone. Add in the fact that I have pictures of him at a party like this and I think the fun is just about to start.”
Vinny hoisted a black and white photo of Jay surrounded by kids doing a number of illegal acts at the party at Sunrise Mall.
“What’s in his drug test? What the hell is in there? Tell me!”
Vinny placed the urine sample right in front of Preega’s face and laughed.
“Nothing that a football mad son like yours wouldn’t appreciate. Can you say white lines, Mr Chetty?”
Chapter 28
6 October 2013. 12:11 AM
“I still don’t know how he got everything into my system.”
“Neither do I,” James responded to no one in particular.
Jay let his hand rest on the table shortly before Layla placed her own hand atop of his. The continual reliving of the past was bruising them, whilst it selfishly fed James’ curiosity. What frame of mind would they be in when they eventually faced Vinny?
"Preega tried to fish out an answer from Vinny. Whilst it may not have been cocaine itself, he was still worried that the ingredients that were having an effect on your metabolites could be harmful to your medical condition. Vinny refused to reveal anything. He taunted Preega that it was a ‘trade secret’.
“He threw your father out the back door and when I saw your old man’s face, I wondered if he wouldn’t have rather been beaten to a pulp by Vinny’s men than have that wickedness unleashed on your family. He knew this would ruin you. It was a typical Vinny scheme—the crimes would never be traced back to him, yet the villainy crossed every boundary possible.”
“So, after my father left, what happened? Did you confront Vinny?”
“I should have. At least, I wanted to. But then I thought, that’s not who I needed to speak to. I slid out to the back, to see if your dad and I could somehow find a way to end all this madness. I just wanted to help. You have to believe me. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”
28 August 2013. The alley
Preega shuffled down the dark and wet alley after being flung out. He could barely hold up his briefcase. His world was crumbling. James scurried out through the front, blew a kiss towards the bar lady who had served him, and darted out around to the back. He heard Linda’s faint cries, pleading with him to come back. Another time perhaps. He had tipped her generously, so it was not a notorious exit.
When he eventually made it to the alley, panting like a horse after a long race, he urged Preega to hang on a minute. He had startled the man in coming out of nowhere. Preega’s face mirrored that of a man who had met his maker. James heard footsteps behind him, as three men appeared from around the corner. Each moved closer, knives in their hands. One of them even carried a police baton.
“Hey, you old piece of shit, we hear there’s a lot of money in that case. We’re going to take it. And then we’re gonna cut your balls off. Just ’cos we can.”
James recognised the men from inside the betting room. Their soulless eyes scoured over Preega’s every move and the way he cautiously carried his suitcase around. The one who’d made the initial remark moved threateningly towards Preega, blade glinting in the night. James picked up a log from the ground and brought it down brusquely on the attacker’s head. He literally smashed the man open. The blood gushing out from his wound barely covered the opening of the skull. He fell and never got up.
The second man rugby tackled James from the back and then placed a knife into his right shoulder blade. The pain was more from shock than anything else. James reacted quickly before the man could skewer the blade in deeper and turn it wickedly. As James lay on the ground, he swept his legs across so that the man joined him on the deck.
As soon as he hit the ground, James snatched the first man’s knife and lodged it into the second one’s heart. He looked deep into the man’s eyes and made sure that he watched him die as he twisted the blade in. The final man did not waste time. He was bald and bulky, but he was decisive. He had already hit Preega with the baton a couple of times and the old man was curled up on the floor, covering his head as the blows continued to come.
Then, the attacker raised his knife to make his final point. James hurtled towards him. He fell just short of the bald man but was close enough to grip his heel. James latched onto it and bit as hard as he could. The man yelped out into the evening air, and James jumped on his back and wrestled his hand until the knife fell out. The man managed to clatter his elbow into James’ nose, who hit the deck, blood spraying out. The man booted his ribs and James winced. He had no fight left in him.
The attacker picked up his knife and placed it at James’ neck. He slowly pushed it in and James’ blood began to trickle down. James closed his eyes and thought of Layla. What could have been, what would have been, would both heighten and soften the pain. The bald man was hit from the back. Preega had sprung up and walloped him on his temple with his suitcase.
“You wanted it so badly. There you go,” he told the unconscious man bitterly.
Preega helped James up off the ground and in return, he helped Preega dust off his suit.
“And who exactly are you? This is quite a first meeting.”
“It seems, peculiar first meetings with the Chetty family are now part of my routine.” Preega’s brow creased into a frown, as he lifted his suitcase up for what seemed to be the umpteenth time for the night.
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything in due course. But right now, we need to get the hell out of here. All this blood in one alley is a court case waiting to happen.”
“No one’s leaving just yet…”
James instantly recognised the squeaky voice behind them. He didn’t have to turn around to know that it was the man who had escorted Preega to Vinny.
“We have to have our big finale before you leave.”
James remembered everything about this slime-ball. His thinning hair, the gold slit in his teeth and his small beady, brown eyes. Only this time, he had his gun out. What infuriated James the most was that the man was now wearing his leather jacket. James had left it in the bar, which is why Linda was screaming for him to come back.
The man put on a black peak cap before pointing the gun at Preega. He guided them both from the back of the alley to the front entrance of the Tab. He made James wait behind the corner that led out into the open but gestured to Preega to move forward into the streetlight near the front entran
ce.
“What are you doing?” James asked him as calmly as he could.
“You’re about to become very, very famous, James. We just need someone to see it all, so they can spread your name around town.”
Linda’s shift was over as she exited the Tab, dressed in black jeans and a pink Adidas t-shirt that sat snugly on her chest. She had a massive pair of headphones on. She looked up and saw the back of the shooter who was wearing James’ jacket. He fired a bullet straight into Preega’s chest.
Linda’s scream pierced the evening. Two men rushed out from the back of the alley and placed a black bag over James’ head and took him away. Away from the night he was framed. Away from the night they created James Tait ‘the murderer’.
6 October 2013. 12:11 AM
Jay remained hushed. Layla was about to talk, then decided it was best not to.
“Do you believe me, Jay? I need to know. It’s the only way we can move forward.” Jay walked over to James and could hear his breathing labouring.
“I have no idea why they framed you. And I have no idea why they shot my father after striking a deal. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I’m not lying Jay, I promise. He framed me, I swear…”
“I know, I know. I mean, why did he frame you? What’s the point if he wasn’t going to follow through with everything? If Vinny’s as connected as we know he is, how have you not been caught yet?”
“He loves toying with people,” James suggested.
“No. It comes back to the pendant,” Layla said. They both looked at her as she continued:
“What if he knew that James would seek forgiveness here? What if he knew that you’d get close to Jay, so much so that he’d start to share everything with you? Everything. Especially, where the pendant is.”