An Ordinary Day

by Trevor Corbett

  ‘What can I do for you, sir?’ he said to the neatly dressed man at the door.

  ‘Can I have a few minutes of your time, Mr Vitoli?’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Kevin Durant. Can I come in?’

  Vitoli concealed his surprise well, considering that at that exact moment he knew his career as a non-official cover agent, an was over, and within forty-eight hours he’d be spirited away to Langley for a humiliating debriefing and from there drive a desk at HQ until his dishonourable retirement. ‘I guess so.’ Vitoli stepped aside and allowed Durant to enter.

  ‘Can I get you a beer?’ he asked, feeling he probably needed it more than Durant.

  ‘No thanks, I won’t be long. I’m investigating the disappearance of a guy called Farouk Ali. Do you know him?’

  Vitoli rubbed his unshaven jaw and then shook his head slowly. ‘I know a lot of people. Farouk Ali … Nah, doesn’t sound familiar.

  Who’s he?’

  ‘He’s a businessman – shipping.’

  ‘Nah, I definitely wouldn’t know him. I’m a photographer,’ and he motioned to the wall where his pictures were displayed.

  Durant cast a cursory glance towards the gallery. ‘I see. So you don’t know Ali then?’

  ‘Where you from, buddy?’

  ‘I’m a private investigator.’

  ‘A private dick, huh? Wouldn’t figure you for one; you look too decent.’

  ‘The family of the missing man hired me to find him.’

  Vitoli laughed. ‘Maybe he needs a break from his family. Maybe he don’t wanna be found.’

  ‘His wife mentioned some people who might know where he is.’

  ‘She didn’t mention my name, though, did she?’

  ‘She didn’t, no.’

  ‘Well then. What’s your business here, Mr Durant?’

  ‘I just wanted to know if you had any contact with Ali or knew where he was, that’s all.’

  Vitoli sat down in a cane chair and motioned to Durant to sit opposite him.

  ‘I’m a photojournalist, Mr Durant. I can’t remember everybody I meet.’

  Durant slipped a sheet of paper from his pocket. ‘Let me help you remember. Here’s a list of nine people you’ve spoken to recently.’

  ‘Are we done here buddy? ’Cos I got a lot to do.’

  ‘Mostly government officials, ruling-party members and one or two Muslim clerics. You keep strange company for a photographer.’

  ‘Where’d you get the list? This is privileged information.’

  ‘And I’m privileged to have it. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have figured out that you’ve actually got a network of agents in this country who are providing you with intelligence.’

  Vitoli rubbed his chin and then the back of his neck with his hand. ‘The list doesn’t prove a thing, buddy. You’re gonna have to do a lot better.’ Vitoli knew the list, in fact, proved everything. His network of agents had been compromised through cellphone calls and he was done as an NOC.

  Durant nodded slowly and then deliberately remained silent for a painful twenty seconds, allowing Vitoli to absorb the consequences of his error.

  ‘We’ve got you linked to Ali through a lovely old lady called Cathy Farrell.’

  ‘You’re gallopin’ ahead with stuff that just ain’t true. Son, I think you’re pretty mixed up.’

  ‘You know the penalties for conducting espionage on South African soil without diplomatic immunity?’

  ‘It’s not the firing squad any more, is it?’

  ‘Mr Vitoli, you’re putting me in a very awkward situation.’

  ‘I’m starting to feel a little awkward myself, right now.’

  ‘There’s been a murder, maybe three murders. I think you might know some of the people involved.’

  Vitoli raised his dark eyebrows and shrugged. ‘Can’t help you, fella. My business is photos and birds, not murders, buddy. I think you’re in the wrong place.’

  ‘I’m desperate to get to the bottom of this thing and I don’t really care what gets damaged in the process. You can talk to me, or you can give a statement to the cops. The choice is yours.’

  Vitoli rubbed his hands together. ‘The choice? I could choose to sink a left hook into your jaw and throw your sorry ass back through that door. Or I could offer you a beer again, ’cos I damn well need one.’

  ‘I’ll go for the beer.’

  Vitoli stood up and walked to a neat bar in the corner of the lounge. He disappeared behind the counter for a few seconds and reappeared with two beers. ‘You know, Durant, I like you. And I really mean that. If I’d lost someone, I’d get you on the case, no question.’

  Durant stood up and walked to the bar counter. Vitoli was more likely to feel comfortable talking at the bar.

  ‘Let me be straight with you,’ Vitoli said. ‘We’re dancing around each other like teenagers at the prom. From the get-go let me say I know you’re NIA and Leila Elhasomi was your agent until someone popped her.’

  Durant sipped his beer. ‘That’s nonsense.’

  ‘Second, I’ve met Ali a few times, none of them particularly pleasant.’

  ‘Under what pretext?’

  ‘He’s as important to us as he is to you. We needed to know his involvement in the smuggling of contraband.’

  ‘Go on. What contraband?’

  ‘Well, mainly articles which can be used to make WMDs.’

  ‘Weapons of mass destruction? You were looking at that? When did you identify Ali?’

  ‘Couple of months ago. He’s been doin’ it for a while. He’s in the big league. He’s the local rep, you might say, for dozens of crackpot leaders who want WMD technology. We turned him.’

  Durant leaned forward on the counter, his fists clenching unconsciously. ‘You recruited him? How?’

  ‘An effective but sometimes frowned-upon intelligence technique called “blackmail”. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. We run him as a compromise agent. He knew we had enough on him to sink him.’

  The room was warm and the beer was bitter, but Durant felt elated. ‘So you’re with the fbi?’

  Vitoli laughed. ‘The FBI gets the credit for everythin’! Nope, I’m a special agent for the us Department of Commerce – the Bureau of Export Administration. We look at these kinda deals.’

  ‘And you were handling Ali for how long?’

  ‘Coupla months.’

  ‘Department of Commerce – and you handle agents in foreign countries?’

  ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures. Terrorist threats are sometimes countered far away from the homeland. Since 9 /11 even the damn cooks in federal buildings are handling agents.’

  ‘I think Ali’s dead.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I think the guy who killed Elhasomi also killed Ali. No proof yet, but it’s a distinct possibility.’

  ‘Tell me about the guy who killed Elhasomi. You know who killed her?’

  ‘She wasn’t our agent. I wish she was. We were investigating her because of her contact with Ali. Ali’s been our target for years.’

  Vitoli looked perplexed. ‘She had your contact number on her.’

  ‘You know a lot for a customs guy.’

  ‘Commerce.’

  ‘She had an accident and I gave her my number in case she needed help.’

  ‘Pity she didn’t use it. So who killed her, can you tell me?’

  Durant nodded. ‘The guy she came with, Ben Salem, killed her. You know what a raven operation is?’

  ‘Yeah. Male version of a honeypot. You think he lured her out here to kill her?’

  ‘We’re sure of it.’

  Vitoli shook his head. ‘You boys are way ahead of us. Care for another beer?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘You’re not on duty, are ya?’

  ‘I’m never off duty.’ Durant paused for a few seconds. ‘I could never establish Elhasomi’s exact link to Ali. Was she some kind of a procurement officer?’

 
‘Damn straight she was. Libya’s most active and successful.’ Vitoli poured himself another beer and cradled it in his folded arms. ‘She’s a well-known figure in the nuclear arms bazaar.’

  ‘We’ve looked at Ali for years. Truth is, never been able to stop the guy – he’s connected everywhere.’

  ‘I was handling him as an informer and even I couldn’t pin him down. Gives a bit, takes a lot.’

  ‘Where’s he?’

  ‘Broke contact. Dunno. Wish I did, ’cos I really need info right now.’

  ‘He’s dropped off the radar completely, which is unlike him. He’s not afraid of anyone,’ Durant said.

  ‘Maybe Salem was just after the money. Ali was supposed to get payment of close on twelve million dollars for this deal.’

  ‘Last we knew, Salem loaded the cash into her car and bolted. But I think Salem’s motive is more personal than financial. Salem’s Jewish. May even be Mossad.’

  ‘Good Lord above! Mossad, or Shin Bet. It wouldn’t be out of character. This is how those guys operate.’

  ‘Ja, well, not in my country, they don’t. I’ll find Salem, and when I do, he’s going to jail like any other murderer.’

  ‘Noble thoughts, Kevin Durant. Don’t underestimate the power of political pressure and international bartering. Ask yourself if it’s worth all the trouble of tracking him down and havin’ him arrested, only to have some politician in Foreign Affairs tell you they’ve struck a deal and he’s goin’ back.’

  ‘I’ve asked myself if it’s worth it. That’s why I’m pursuing this thing, that’s why I’m here. I’ll find this guy. Murder is murder – it’s not a negotiable thing.’

  ‘You must be pretty sure he did it.’

  ‘I know he did it.’

  Vitoli shook Durant’s hand firmly. ‘I hope you find him.’

  ***

  It was the day before Mike Shezi’s memorial service, and Thandi was pleased the house was finally rid of the relatives and friends who had come to wish her well and ask, sometimes subtly, but other times unashamedly frankly, when she expected his pension payout. The modest house in the rural Valley of a Thousand Hills belonged to her parents, and there was hardly space for entertaining visitors. It had endured years of neglect and the interior was cold and impersonal. Much like her, she thought. But the rural dwelling was slightly less depressing than her home, which she’d moved out of the day after she’d learnt of Mike’s death. Staying there had become intolerable and she couldn’t imagine herself ever going back. Her parent’s home had become a refuge from reality, but she knew that after the funeral she would have to deal with the more practical issues of life and try to pick up the pieces.

  Thandi hardly heard the knock at the door, which disturbed her thoughts. She opened the front door with little expectation, but smiled for the first time in days as Durant held out a huge chocolate cake. She hugged him, and he felt her body trembling and he wasn’t going to let go until she did.

  ‘You’re like an angel,’ she said as she finally released her grip and took the cake.

  ‘I know it’s your favourite. The deal is you have to share it with me.’

  ‘Of course,’ she laughed, making no effort to wipe away the tears which kept coming. ‘I’m sorry about the house. It’s a mess.’

  ‘That’s why I feel so at home already. Stephanie sends her condolences, and apologises for not popping in.’

  ‘How’s Steph doing, Kevin?’

  ‘Fine, much better, I think she’s almost herself again. And you? I can’t imagine how this must be for you.’

  ‘You can, Kevin, you must be able to. You knew Mike as well as I did. It makes it easier for me knowing he was so loved at work.’

  ‘We’re still in shock. He was a brother to me.’

  ‘There was so much more to him than most people knew.’ Thandi bit her lip. ‘He was a good man. I said things about him which were lies, sometimes, Kevin; I’ve even lied to you. I’m ashamed.’

  ‘We all lie, Thandi.’ Durant felt uncomfortable and his mouth had gone dry. He had come prepared for awkwardness and unease, but the situation felt out of control.

  ‘He didn’t want anybody to know about our family issues and poverty. He lied to protect me. It’s my fault.’

  Durant put his hand on her shoulder. He could handle amputations and open fractures and disembowelments, but comforting a grieving widow was out of his league. ‘Don’t blame yourself.’

  Thandi took Durant’s hand and led him to the back door. ‘Come and meet my family,’ she said.

  Outside was a small sandy area about the size of a garage. A few white stones were scattered in the sand and a single day lily looked oddly out of place growing from under a pile of disused tyres. The green and rocky hills and valleys with their scattered mud houses, some whitewashed and looking quite elegant, stretched endlessly in all directions. But the beauty was tainted with sadness. It is only when you leave the tourist routes, as Durant had, and travel into the heart of the valley along stony, and sometimes treacherous footpaths, that you realise the beauty of the valley belies the suffering of the poverty-stricken people living there. Durant expected to see people sitting outside, but Thandi stood beside him and pointed at the soil.

  ‘My family. Two brothers, three sisters, and my eight-month-old niece. They all lie here.’

  Durant didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

  ‘Mike dug these graves at night by himself. A few years ago, people with AIDS were freaks and social misfits. We were embarrassed then. It was a secret we couldn’t tell. My family just slowly disappeared. This house was where my family came home to die.’

  Durant felt the tears well up in his eyes. He was so different from the man he called brother; he realised that he hadn’t known Mike Shezi at all. The only parts of Mike he knew were the parts that were like him – funny, calm, conventional; he knew the urban, westernised Mike. His home life, family tragedies, emotional turmoil, Durant knew nothing of. He felt cheated. Why had Mike kept this from him? How did he think Durant would have reacted had he known about this? Did he think Kevin would have been any less of a friend or brother or colleague? But looking at the barren earth where the graves lay, Durant knew that he had done the right thing by protecting his friend.

  ‘My brother was a successful businessman. He helped my father build this house, and he died right here. He left behind a wife and eight children. My sister left behind three children, all of them in school. Mike – you know Mike – he felt a responsibility. He put his heart and his soul into his work because he had so many mouths to feed.’

  ‘I had no idea … He never told me any of this.’

  ‘Mike had two sides to him. The side you saw: the dedicated colleague, passionate investigator, a guy full of fun and laughter, and the side you didn’t see: the man struggling to keep his relatives alive on his salary.’

  ‘But the debts …?’

  ‘It seemed less complicated to explain it like that. His whole salary goes to feeding and clothing the family and paying school fees. Whatever’s left, we use for our daily living. There’s never much left.’

  ‘We could have helped, if we’d known, I mean, we’re part of the same family …’

  ‘Kevin, this is our burden, not yours. We didn’t want to make it anybody else’s burden. You helped Mike enough; he couldn’t have asked for a better friend.’

  ‘I could have done more. I should have done more.’

  ‘Two days before he died he told me you were his inspiration and how your integrity was such an example to him.’ Thandi began to sob. ‘I’m sorry …’ She looked across the thousands of green hills and valleys in the distance. Her journey ahead would be an arduous one.

  14

  The morning was bleak. Thunderclouds were already rolling in from the west towards the city, and the outside tables at Horizons were shrouded in a grey, unsettling mist. Amina wondered if Durant had deliberately decided to sit outside, where the weather was threatening a
nd the umbrellas were quickly and unceremoniously being rolled up as the clients moved indoors. The weather reflected his sombre mood, she reasoned. He hadn’t said much since ordering breakfast for them, and she had also remained silent, allowing him to stare out to sea and evaluate whatever it was that was troubling him so deeply. Finally he seemed to snap out of his distant daydream. He shook his head briefly and apologised.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ami, I’m bad company today. It’s not like me.’

  ‘You seem a bit preoccupied, but it’s okay.’

  ‘There’re so many thoughts inside my head, I don’t know if I’m sane anymore.’

  ‘You’re sane, Kevin, don’t worry. A lot’s happened. You’ve handled it well.’

  Durant shook his head. ‘I don’t know if I can handle much more. The worst is Ali was working for the Americans.’

  ‘I know. It’s bizarre. We could have worked with them.’

  ‘The American law-enforcement agencies can’t even work with each other, never mind with foreign agencies. They probably underestimated our ability.’

  ‘No doubt they did. That misconception has cost us a life. If we’d known Ali was that involved in WMD smuggling, we’d surely have put more effort into our investigation.’

  ‘We would’ve understood what Elhasomi was here for, we could’ve saved her. Maybe even Mike.’

  ‘You can’t save everyone, Kevin.’

  ‘That’s what Stephanie always tells me.’