Unofficial and Deniable

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Unofficial and Deniable Page 26

by John Gordon Davis


  ‘Not okay, sir. Because one of our boys distinctly recognized you as you drove past Cleopatra’s Retreat in a yellow cab about half an hour ago. He called my cellphone to report.’

  Harker was shaken by this. ‘Tell “your boys” they need spectacles. It was some other good-looking guy. And who are “your boys”? I thought the CCB was disbanded.’

  ‘Oh, we are, sir, don’t you worry, we are.’ Clements smiled wolfishly. ‘And when did you last speak to Ferdi, sir?’

  ‘About three months ago. Look, I’ve had enough of your inquisitorial tone. Please tell me what’s on your mind and then piss off!’

  ‘Where did you see Ferdi Spicer three months ago?’

  ‘At Cleopatra’s Retreat.’

  ‘Why did you go there?’

  ‘I felt the need for a little female company. But I ended up talking to Ferdi instead and the mood passed.’

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘This and that. About the Truth Commission, naturally. He didn’t seem to know much about it. So I impressed upon him that it would be folly for him to think of seeking amnesty for the Long Island job because he could still be prosecuted here.’

  ‘So Ferdi wanted to apply for amnesty?’

  ‘No,’ Harker said emphatically, ‘we were just talking about developments generally. In fact it was I who brought up the subject of amnesty, to make sure he didn’t do anything foolish. But he clearly understood the situation even before I brought it up.’

  ‘Ferdi was involved in a few high-profile jobs in South Africa, wasn’t he?’

  Harker was surprised. ‘Was he? Which ones?’

  Clements smiled. ‘Come on. You know, as his overall commanding officer.’

  Harker said flatly, ‘I assure you I do not. In our game the left hand didn’t know what the right was doing, you know that. Do you know which jobs he did?’

  ‘Yes, he told me,’ Clements said grimly.

  ‘The fool. Well, which ones?’

  ‘The asshole couldn’t keep his mouth shut. I don’t know how he ever got into Military Intelligence.’

  ‘Nor do I. Which ones?’

  ‘Look, Ferdi’s done a runner. Disappeared. Where to?’

  Harker frowned. ‘I’ve no idea. Doesn’t Stella know?’

  Clements looked at him. ‘If she does, she ain’t talking. She’s dead. Murdered. In her apartment.’

  Harker tried to look shocked. ‘Christ. Who did it? And why?’

  ‘Hoped you might have an idea, sir.’ Before Harker could answer Clements said: ‘You know there’s been a big breakthrough in South Africa? Five Platplaas cops have confessed to forty murders, and they’ve subpoenaed the Commissioner of Police himself.’

  ‘Yes, I heard.’

  ‘Just goes to show how vulnerable we are, doesn’t it, sir? All this guy Looksmart Kumalo has got to do is subpoena a guy like Ferdi – or you – or even some big shot like General Tanner if he ever found out about him, and that person would be required by law to appear at the Truth Commission and spill the beans. And drop us all in the shit.’ He frowned. ‘Worrying, isn’t it?’

  ‘Very. So who murdered Stella? Ferdi? Maybe because he had bragged to her over the years about his CCB exploits and now he was nervous because Looksmart Kumalo had shown up? Or was it one of the ex-CCB guys did it, for the same reason?’

  ‘Like you, sir?’ Clements smiled.

  Harker snorted grimly. ‘Well, sergeant, I know I didn’t do it. So that leaves one or other of you guys.’

  ‘And I know that neither I nor any of my guys did it,’ Clements said glibly. ‘So that leaves you, Ferdi, or the CIA. I think you’re probably innocent, sir – not like you to strangle a lady. Personally, I think it’s Ferdi. That bastard was always unreliable. Just like him to brag around the whorehouse. So? Now he’s gone into hiding because Looksmart’s in town with his private detectives and all, and suspects him because why else would he come to Cleopatra’s? Then he panics because Looksmart may squeeze information out of Stella so he sneaks back to Cleopatra’s via the back door and bumps her off.’

  ‘Then where did he go after that?’

  ‘That,’ Clements said, ‘is what we have to find out before Looksmart does.’ He paused. ‘I think he’s done a runner to South Africa. To the Truth Commission, sir.’

  Harker flinched. That was unthinkable. If Ferdi did that he would destroy them all. But Harker did not believe he had gone there.

  ‘Why d’you think that?’

  ‘To get amnesty for the other jobs he did inside South Africa. Ferdi’s running scared since he’s seen these Platplaas cops break ranks.’

  ‘I don’t think he’d be so stupid,’ Harker said. ‘But if he has, what can you do about it?’

  ‘He hasn’t arrived in South Africa yet. We’ll know when he does: we’ve got friends in the Immigration Department who will inform us.’ He smiled wolfishly. ‘And in the secretariat of the Truth Commission, sir. We’ll know the moment anybody we are worried about sneaks along and starts talking about amnesty.’ He added: ‘Remember that.’

  Harker said grimly, ‘Do me the courtesy of not threatening me, sergeant.’

  ‘Not threatening, sir, just putting you in the picture. But if Ferdi Spicer comes to talk to you – as he might because he had great respect for you – please inform me immediately, sir. Keep him talking, get to a telephone and call me. And the same applies to our friend Looksmart Kumalo. He is very likely to contact you again, either just socially or for advice. Get his address, keep him talking and telephone me. Will you do that?’

  Oh Jesus, Jesus, he was being told to be an accomplice to more murder. ‘And you will do what?’

  Clements looked at him grimly. ‘Whatever is necessary, sir. Believe me, we don’t want to attract police attention unnecessarily, sir. It may be that Ferdi is harmless, that he’s just taken fright and run into hiding. However, I think that’s unlikely, considering what’s happened to Stella – I think Ferdi did that.’

  ‘If Ferdi murdered Stella to stop her blabbing about the Long Island job, he certainly isn’t going to confess to the Truth Commission.’

  ‘But once he gets in front of the Truth Commission to confess to other jobs he might break down under cross-examination by Looksmart’s lawyer. And that’s a certainty if the DA has promised him immunity against prosecution here in America. So I don’t think Ferdi is harmless, sir. And as regards Looksmart, we know he’s fucking lethal.’ Clements looked at him. ‘I’m sure you agree that it’s in everybody’s interests that the necessary action be taken against Looksmart, sir.’ He paused. ‘So do you undertake to cooperate and call me immediately Ferdi or Looksmart contact you?’

  Oh God. Cooperate in murder? More murder … And if he refused he would sign his own death warrant, because Clements and Dupont and the CIA boys were running scared now. He was about to say ‘And if I refuse?’ when Clements said softly, ‘Please don’t talk about Law and Order, sir. Morality. Because if you do I’m going to have to conclude that you’re a weak link in the chain, sir. Like Ferdi.’ He looked at Harker apologetically. ‘And I like you too much for that, sir. Surely to Christ,’ he appealed softly, ‘as an honest soldier who only did his duty you can see that Looksmart Kumalo deserved to die at the time, sir. It was a perfectly legitimate operation, sir. And so surely you can see that in the circumstances it is absolutely advisable – necessary – for Looksmart to disappear permanently, and probably Ferdi as well?’ He paused, then added, ‘You’ll notice I’m not asking you to do the necessary yourself, sir. That’s because, firstly, I respect your feelings, and secondly –’ he smiled – ‘we don’t believe you’ll be very good at it. All we ask is your cooperation.’

  Harker took an angry breath. ‘Or else I’ll have a nasty accident.’

  Clements frowned. ‘Please, sir. Nobody wants that.’

  Oh God, of course it was in everybody’s interests that Looksmart Kumalo and Ferdi Spicer disappeared: it was even almost just that they do so, but no
way did he want to be party to that rough justice, all he wanted to do was get his ass down to Fort Lauderdale and buy that boat and disappear. But saying he agreed did not mean he did.

  ‘Yes.’ He glared at Clements.

  ‘You undertake to do that?’

  Christ, it infuriated him to be intimidated by a subordinate: he wanted to grab Clements by the collar and throw him out of the apartment. Except Clements was younger, fitter and a karate expert who would throw him across the room. ‘Yes! And now will you kindly fuck off!’

  Clements smiled thinly. ‘Thank you, sir. And finally, about this book Josephine’s writing about the Truth Commission.’

  ‘What about it? I assure you it’s not my idea.’

  ‘Oh we want you to publish it – because if you don’t somebody else will. And we want you to edit it very carefully. Cut out everything the slightest bit compromising about the Long Island job, anything, about her pal Looksmart Kumalo blaming South Africa.’ He smiled. ‘We don’t want millions of Americans knowing about us, do we sir? We don’t want investigative journalists picking up the story, do we? So you will edit her book very, very carefully, won’t you, sir? Because if it embarrasses us, we are going to be very, very angry.’

  Harker had to clench his teeth to control his anger. ‘And who are “we”? Are you telling me in your roundabout irritating way that the CC fucking B is still alive and well? But with new initials perhaps?’

  Clements smiled, then tossed back his whisky. ‘Okay, I’ll be on my way, sir. Nice seeing you again.’ He paused, then: ‘Oh, by the way, why are you going to Fort Lauderdale?’

  ‘Mind your own business.’

  ‘But it is my business, sir. Now that Looksmart Kumalo has hit town, on the warpath, and Ferdi Spicer has dis-appeared, not to mention poor Stella experiencing such breathlessness, all your movements are very much my business.’ He smiled. ‘So, why Fort Lauderdale?’

  ‘To buy,’ Harker replied angrily, ‘a boat. Why? Because I like boats. Where am I going to sail it? Where I fucking like. When? Every fucking weekend. Who with? Josephine and whomsoever I fucking like – rest assured it won’t be you or Looksmart Kumalo.’ He pointed to the door. ‘Now please leave.’

  Clements smiled. ‘As you wish, sir.’ He walked to the door. ‘Goodnight, don’t bother seeing me across the court-yard.’ He grinned back and tapped his jacket pocket. ‘By the way, everything we’ve discussed has been recorded. Sleep well, sir …’

  Harker wanted to hurl his glass at the closing door.

  Just then the telephone rang. He snatched it up. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ an American voice intoned, ‘this is Detective Morgan of the New York Police Department’s Homicide Division …’

  33

  That long night was very bad. Driving down to Fort Lauderdale, turning over and over the events of the last few days, the Platplaas Five breaking ranks and pointing the finger at the Commissioner of Police himself, forcing him to confess or damn himself to life imprisonment; the sinister disappearance of Ferdi Spicer, the frightening reappearance of Looksmart Kumalo, the dreadful murder of Stella, the phone call from the police, the shock of finding Clements in his apartment, the cold-blooded discussion of murder plots, the threats if he failed them. And who were ‘they’? Was the CCB still functioning under another name? Controlled by whom? Right-wing politicians for a coup d’état one day? When Mandela retired, the world’s honeymoon with South Africa over? Or were ‘they’ just some beat-up ex-CCB operatives in America, guys like Ricardo, Clements, Dupont and the numerous other characters Dupont controlled? Guys shit-scared of this Truth Commission?

  Harker tried half a dozen times that night to call Redfern on his car-phone but he only got his answering machine. It wasn’t until after midnight that Redfern called back. Tearing down the shafts of light carved by his old Mercedes on the turnpike, Harker told his lawyer what had happened over the last few days.

  ‘So this Detective Morgan,’ Redfern said, ‘indicated that his only reason for contacting you was that he had found Hogan’s name in Stella’s appointment book – and found your cellphone number in Ferdi’s telephone book under that name?’

  Harker said grimly: ‘Plus the girls probably remember me from my odd visit. They know me as Spicer’s friend Hogan.’

  ‘And this Detective Morgan didn’t mention Looksmart Kumalo?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And all you said was that you knew Ferdi and Stella because you occasionally patronized his fine establishment?’

  ‘Yes,’ Harker sighed.

  ‘Well,’ Redfern said, ‘I don’t think you need worry about Detective Morgan for the time being – sounds like a routine enquiry. And when you said you couldn’t come in to the station to make a statement tomorrow because you were off to Fort Lauderdale he didn’t get uptight?’

  ‘No. But what worries me is the immunity from prosecution that Looksmart Kumalo says the DA will give to whoever agrees to give evidence against the rest of the CCB operatives who did the Long Island job. That means that Ferdi, or Clements, or Dupont himself could make a deal with the DA for immunity, then dash to the Truth Commission and get amnesty in South Africa, then give evidence against us in the American courts.’

  ‘Yes,’ Redfern agreed.

  ‘And there’s fuck-all I can do about that. We’re all defenceless against that treachery.’

  ‘No you’re not,’ Redfern said. ‘You could be the one to get immunity from the DA and amnesty from the Truth Commission.’ He added: ‘And a million bucks from Looksmart.’

  Harker snorted, staring down the beam of his headlights. ‘No way.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Harker said: ‘I was the commanding officer, for God’s sake. A commanding officer should not drop his comrades in the shit like that. Unthinkable.’

  ‘But they’re threatening you.’

  ‘Clements is, yes. And that comes from Dupont, no doubt. But Ferdi? He’s never done me any harm – on the contrary, he’s been very loyal to me.’

  ‘But if he murdered Stella he could easily change his mind about you.’

  ‘But I think that was Dupont’s and Clements’ work, to stop her blabbing.’

  ‘They’ve probably murdered Ferdi as well and sunk him in the Hudson, in which case you won’t be dropping him in the shit if you testify for the DA.’

  Harker shook his head, the cellphone clutched to his ear.

  ‘Look, Jack,’ Redfern said, ‘let me approach the DA on the old-boy network. His name’s Hughie Maisels, a tough Jewish leftie but a nice enough guy – and honest. I’ll sound him out – without divulging who my client is. We want to know whether Looksmart Kumalo is really telling the truth or whether he was just trying to snag you by saying the DA is offering immunity. If it’s true, we want to know what the conditions are. So? Do I have your permission to approach him?’

  Harker was aghast. ‘Christ, he’ll find out who your client is!’

  ‘He won’t, I’ll do it on the honour system, he won’t ask who you are and I certainly won’t tell him.’

  ‘But then he sends his sleuths to sniff around you and find out who I might be.’

  ‘No he won’t.’

  ‘No? Never heard of Watergate?’

  ‘But that’s not real life any more.’

  ‘Look, the CCB is real life, and the CIA, even the KGB under another name – that type of skulduggery was my business, don’t imagine that your offices can’t be broken into, your filing cabinets microfilmed until the name Jack Harker shows up.’

  ‘Jack, on the old-boy network, lawyers don’t do that sort of thing to each other.’

  Harker shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t know a moment’s rest. And even if the DA were to offer me immunity I wouldn’t testify against my comrades. And if I did Josephine would leave me like a shot when she heard the truth. Forget it.’

  ‘Well, if you won’t cover your ass, you’d better get it down to Fort Lauderdale and buy that boat,’ Redfern said
soberly. ‘Jack, Stella is dead. And she sure didn’t commit suicide. Ferdi has disappeared, and I have a feeling he’s dead too; but if he isn’t, he’s going to be soon. And all because Looksmart Kumalo has come to town. So, who’s knocking off the witnesses? And who’s the next target? Jack, your ex-comrades are warning you that you’re next if you don’t keep your mouth shut.’ Redfern sighed. ‘And what about Josephine? They’re scared that she is going to come back from South Africa with a bag full of facts and publish them. Through you.’ Redfern snorted. ‘Jack, on the face of it you two look like very obvious targets. So my advice is buy this boat and go on a long, long sail, get away from these bastards who’re deciding whether to kill you. Will Josephine go along with that? Can you persuade her to pack up and leave immediately?’

  Harker sighed. ‘In six months’ time she’ll go for it with a whoop and a holler. Right now her head’s full of this new book; when she comes back she’ll be hot to settle down and work, not sail the high seas.’

  ‘You haven’t got six months to spare,’ Redfern said. ‘Do it now. Josephine can work on the boat. The most important thing is to get as far away as possible and as untraceable as possible – by the Truth Commission and by Dupont and company. Which brings me to the next point.’ He paused. ‘To be untraceable you must sell Harvest House.’ He added, ‘You can sell it to another offshore company which you create for the purpose, which you control. In that way you get Harvest out of your name but still control it, you own it indirectly but nobody knows it. I can set up a totally question-proof company for you in the Cayman Islands for a few thousand dollars. It’ll take a few phone calls, a few signatures and everybody will believe you’ve sold Harvest House.’

  Harker stared down the beam of his headlights, his mind trying to deal with overdrafts and percentages.

  ‘Or, if you need the money for your round-the-world voyage,’ Redfern continued, ‘you can sell your shares to a publisher who wants your authors. I know of several who would probably snap up Harvest House if the price was right.’

  Oh God, selling Harvest …’ And what should I do about my apartment? You’ll remember that it’s only leased to me, and the lease will expire in December.’

 

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