The Man in the Wind

by Vernon W. Baumann

  A sudden scream brought the poolside detectives to their feet. It came from Hertzog’s room. With Jannie in his swimming trunks and the other two in Hawaiian shirts and shorts they ran to Hertzog’s room. They found him standing in front of a wall, looking at a poster of Elizabeth Trudouw. He had pinned a copy onto his bedroom wall. Because that’s something that Hertzog did. Moments later a sleep-dizzy Chaz stormed into the room, wearing a vest and boxer shorts, his service pistol in his hand. ‘Boss,’ was the only word he managed to utter.

  Hertzog pointed at the poster. ‘There’s something in the background.’

  Jools and Dog leaned into the poster. Chaz turned his head. Dog stumbled drunkenly and balanced himself against the wall. ‘I don’t see it, boss.’

  ‘It’s all about the light.’ Hertzog carefully pulled the poster from the wall. ‘Look. You have to position it just right.’ He rushed over to the window and pulled aside the curtains. He held it horizontally against the fading light of the afternoon sun. Then shifted its position. This way. And that. Finally he stopped. ‘Look. Look.’ The others leaned in.

  ‘Shit, I see it,’ Jools said. ‘Look.’

  Jannie twisted his head. ‘Yes, I see it. What is it?’

  Chaz stepped forward, eyes fixed on the poster. ‘It’s some kind of a flange. An attachment to some heavy piece of machinery.’

  ‘Yes, exactly,’ Hertzog said with excitement.

  ‘Okay, so ... so what?’ Jannie stared in confusion.

  ‘Where’s the only place in town where we can expect to find heavy machinery, detective?’ Hertzog asked.

  Realisation dawned in Duvenhage’s eyes. ‘The mine.’

  ‘Yes. The mine. Let’s go, gentlemen.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we tell Major Bismarck?’ Jannie looked at Hertzog.

  ‘Detective, after our visit to the Dominee, I’m even more convinced ... the less the town’s people know, the better.’ Chaz nodded in agreement.

  ‘Uh, boss, we’ve had a little to drink and –’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Detective Doober. Meet me at the Defender.’

  It was in this way that a decidedly casual group of SAP detectives found themselves in a Land Rover One-Ten Defender, heading for the open-cast Coffee diamond mine. Jools and Dog were still wearing their Hawaiian shirts and shorts, albeit with the addition of slip-slops. Jannie and Chaz had slipped on t-shirts; Chaz was wearing an old SAP shirt while Jannie donned a more fashionable Instinct shirt. Hertzog was the only one wearing slacks and a sleeve shirt. Before they left, Hertzog had instructed Chaz to fax the poster to their good friend, the Bloemfontein magistrate in an effort to get an emergency warrant to search the mine. There was no time to wait. Hertzog had to hope that before they returned the warrant would be approved. It wasn’t the way he liked to do things. But it was about being in time to save the life of an innocent teen.

  The Land Rover wound its way down De Beers Street, down Mosley and eventually into Du Preez Street which led directly into the mining compound.

  ‘Boss, you realise if we find something we’re going to have to spend the night at the scene while we wait for the Bloemfontein CSU unit to arrive tomorrow morning?’ Chaz said behind the wheel of the 4x4.

  Hertzog indicated the back of the Defender with his head. ‘I think you’d prefer the pillow with the floral pattern, detective.’

  Dog laughed with great mirth. ‘The boss just made a joke, Detective Duvenhage. Appreciate it. It’s a very rare occurrence.’ He surreptitiously lifted a half jack of brandy from the pocket of his shorts and showed it to Jools. ‘I think we’ll be fine,’ he said, winking at his colleague.

  The Landy came to a grinding halt. Slowly the detectives disembarked. The sun was slowly setting in the west. ‘We’ve got a large area to search. Let’s fan out.’

  The group spread across the wide search area which included about three dozen outbuildings; storage sheds, mobile offices, large longitudinal warehouses, processing hangars and parking bays. Methodically, using their flashlights to disperse the growing darkness, they covered each building in turn. One after another, each of the buildings – many of them unlocked – was searched.

  After about half an hour Chaz called out to Hertzog. The group hurried over to his location. He was standing in front of one of the smaller machinery hangars. One of the doors was standing open. He illuminated a large piece of machinery. ‘What do you think?’

  Hertzog held up the poster, focusing the beam of his flashlight upon it. They all studied it. ‘That’s the one. This picture was taken in this very hangar. We’ve got to tag this site for the CSU team.’

  From across the mine site Jannie Duvenhage came running towards the group. ‘Boss, I got something really bizarre.’ He halted in front of the group, catching his breath. When he spoke it was sotto voce. ‘I just saw something really strange.’

  ‘What have you got, detective?’

  ‘Yeah? And why are you whispering?’ Dog asked.

  ‘Boss, over there, in that building,’ Duvenhage said, pointing to a longitudinal building with his flashlight. ‘It looks like some kind of hall where they used to have meetings or stuff like that.’

  ‘Hm-huh?’

  ‘There is a huge group of people, boss. They’re sitting in the dark. Completely silent. Staring at the stage.’ Jannie looked at the others. ‘It’s totally insane.’

  Fifteen

  The MCU detectives carefully approached the hall Jannie Duvenhage had indicated, their service pistols at the ready. They fanned out as they neared the building, in keeping with protocol. Duvenhage and Chaz covered the southern length of the building, Dog and Jools in their Hawaiian shirts covered the northern length. Hertzog took the main doorway.

  ‘Detective Van Sant? What do you see?’

  Jools, his back tight against the outer wall, leaned forward and peered carefully into the nearest window. He resumed his position. ‘Boss, we’ve got about two dozen people, seated in neat rows. They’re completely stationery. And silent.’

  ‘Detective Bosman, get over here. Let’s breach the entrance.’ Chaz quietly jogged over and joined Hertzog on the other side of the door. ‘On three.’ Chaz nodded. ‘One ... two ... three!’

  Hertzog turned the door handle while Chaz kicked it open. He ran inside with Hertzog hot on his heels. ‘South African Police.’ Chaz shouted out the identification, crouched down and gun held out in front of him in both hands.

  Hertzog stood behind him, gun positioned above Chaz’s head. ‘Nobody move,’ he said, shouting at the top of his lungs. Behind him the others raced into the room, shouting and gesticulating. It was a part of basic police training. Create as much confusion and fear while making an arrest, bewildering suspects.

  Absolutely nothing happened.

  ‘This is the fucking South African Police. Get on the fucking floor right now.’ Dog’s veins bulged in his neck from the exertion of screaming.

  Nothing.

  Hertzog calmly holstered his gun and zipped out his flashlight. He pointed it at the nearest row. The others gasped.

  ‘What the hell?’ Dog also holstered his gun and used his flashlight. The others followed suit.

  The beams of their flashlights revealed the same thing.

  Seated in every chair, mute and motionless, were rows and rows of mannequins. Every single one staring at the empty stage. Every single one horribly mutilated.

  Sixteen

  ‘What the hell is this?’ Dog peered into the darkness beyond the illumination of their flashlights.

  Hertzog tried the light switch. Nothing.

  ‘Boss, I saw a central generator linked to all the out buildings,’ Jools said. ‘Let me see if I can get it started.’

  A few minutes later they heard the chug-chug as the massive diesel generator sprang into life. Seconds later the light above them flickered into life. The eerie scene before them was now properly illuminated.

  Hertzog walked slowly down the aisle, looking left and right. Every single seat i
n the hall was filled with a badly mauled mannequin. Duvenhage’s original estimate was accurate. There were at least three dozen of the mute dummies. All facing the stage.

  Hertzog paused to inspect one of the mannequins while the others spread out across the hall.

  ‘What is this place?’ Dog asked.

  ‘It must be some of kind of hall, for group meetings or things like that,’ Hertzog said.

  ‘No flippin ways.’ It was Jannie Duvenhage, standing on the stage. ‘Boss, you’re not going to believe this. If you thought the mannequins were weird ... wait ‘til you see this.’

  Seventeen

  Hertzog rushed to the stage. Duvenhage and Dog were already there. Both stared down in mystification. Hertzog mounted the stairs on the left side and stopped as he reached the zenith. He walked slowly towards them, frowning intensely.

  ‘What the hell is the meaning of this?’

  ‘It’s Coffee,’ Dog said. ‘Look.’

  Spread out between them, at the back of the stage, was a miniature model of a little town. Built to scale. With painstaking care and diligence. Perfect in every detail. Dog was correct. It was Coffee. At the northern part of the little model was an exact replica of Coffee’s Signal Hill, even featuring the giant cross that was illuminated at night.

  ‘Holy shit,’ Jools said as he joined them. ‘This is insane.’

  The group of elite policemen stared in mute fascination at the sprawling model. It covered a large area, easily nine square metres in size.

  The attention to detail was obsessive. Every building, every street, every structure and feature of the town of Coffee had been duplicated exactly. Tiny little cars filled the streets while small little figures dotted the sidewalks. It also featured the open-pit diamond mine. Hertzog fell down on his knees and inspected the little OK Supermarket. The miniature building even had its own notice board with tiny little posters. ‘It’s the exact copy of Coffee, down to every little detail.’

  ‘Why would the perpetrator go to all this effort, boss?’ He looked at Hertzog, uncertain. ‘I mean, it is him, isn’t it?’

  Hertzog paused, studying the model. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘There’s no doubt about that.’

  ‘All that effort for nothing,’ Duvenhage said.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Well, he put in all this effort ... just to have us discover it.’

  Hertzog shook his head. ‘He wanted us to find it, detective. That was the whole reason for building it in the first place.’

  Jannie lifted his palms to the ceiling. ‘But why?’

  Hertzog said nothing. Surveying the model.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Dog said. ‘The builder didn’t do such a good job after all. It’s not correct.’ Hertzog looked up at Dog. He pointed at a section of the model. ‘Look, the police station. It’s not in the correct place.’ He pointed at another section. ‘It’s supposed to be there, not here.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s right.’ Jools pointed at a group of buildings. ‘If I remember correctly this is an open space. Not filled with buildings.’

  Hertzog slowly stood up.

  ‘Yeah,’ Dog said. ‘And what’s happening over here at the mine.’ He pointed to an area on the model that wasn’t too far from their present location in the hall. A large group of figures formed a semi-circle around three other figurines, lying parallel on the ground.

  Hertzog looked over at Chaz. ‘Now the Dominee’s words are starting to make sense.’

  ‘What do you mean, boss?’ Duvenhage looked from Hertzog to Chaz.

  ‘Do you remember what Carol-Ann Botha said, the Mayor’s wife?’

  ‘Erm ...’

  ‘She said there was a big fire ... in nineteen-seventy-three. Do you remember? She said it destroyed the entire eastern part of the CBD.’ Hertzog indicated the eastern part of the model. ‘Which included the police station and these buildings you mentioned, Detective Van Sant.’

  ‘So you mean this is a map of –’

  ‘Yes.’ Hertzog paused. ‘This model is indeed an exact replica of Coffee. But far more importantly, it’s a model of a very specific day in the history of Coffee.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘It’s a replica ... a snapshot if you like ... of an event. A snapshot of a terrible event ... that occurred exactly twenty years ago.’

  Eighteen

  The detectives were met early the next morning by the Bloemfontein forensics team. They had spent the entire night at the mine in an effort to guard and preserve what had become a crime scene. As the groggy policemen stepped from the Land Rover they were given odd stares and were the subject of a good few humorous comments regarding their casual attire. Someone hummed the theme tune to Hawaii 5-0.

  Hertzog instructed Dog to radio the Coffee police station and announce their discovery. In about half an hour the mine was crawling with uniformed policemen. Major Bismarck arrived a few minutes later.

  ‘Well done, Captain Hertzog,’ he said. ‘I hope your discovery can lead to a swift resolution to this ugly business.’

  ‘I hope so too, Major,’ Hertzog said leading him inside the hall. He showed him the miniature model on the stage. When he explained the suspected significance of the model, Hertzog watched the Major’s face with a hawk’s eye. Behind his ever-present shades the Major revealed nothing. Although ... Hertzog could swear he saw a vein in his neck begin to pulse. ‘Major Bismarck, you wouldn’t perhaps know what event this model depicts, would you?’

  Bismarck gave Hertzog a cool stare. ‘No, I don’t.’ He paused. ‘Please excuse me. You’re free to give my men whatever orders you wish. Good day, Captain.’ And with that the Major departed.

  ‘What do you think, boss? Is he hiding something?’

  ‘They’re all hiding something, detective.’ Hertzog pushed out his jaw in determination. ‘The question is what.’

  Nineteen

  Later that day Hertzog and his men made their way back to the guesthouse. The uniformed Coffee policemen remained behind and scoured the entire area of the mine while the CSU team processed the hall and the hangar in which the photographs of the teens had been taken.

  When the MCU team arrived at the guesthouse a stranger was waiting for them. He approached them as they climbed from the Land Rover. ‘Captain Hertzog?’ He asked, walking towards Hertzog.

  ‘Yes.’

  The man handed Hertzog an envelope. ‘This is your subpoena to appear before an independent commission tasked with investigating the suspicious deaths of your parents.’

  ‘What?’ Dog jumped forward, making as if to punch the man. The clerk went running for the safety of the guesthouse.

  ‘Independent commission, my arse,’ Jools said. ‘Independently funded by the wealthy of Coffee, I’m sure.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Hertzog said calmly. ‘It’s just a show of strength. Nothing more.’

  The men went to take showers. Those who required sleep were instructed to take a nap. There was a lot of work that lay ahead – Hertzog needed his men to be fresh and awake. Jannie disappeared into town to follow up on the tasks Hertzog had given him.

  Later that afternoon Hertzog gathered his men in the conference room of the Rust en Vrede guesthouse to review everything they had learnt up to that moment. ‘Detective Duvenhage, you got anything yet on the suicide issue?’

  ‘Boss, you’re not going to believe this. In the last twenty years or so altogether sixteen suicides have been reported.’

  Dog whistled in exclamation.

  ‘That’s way above the national average,’ Jools said.

  ‘You’re right, boss,’ Jannie said. ‘These people are hiding something big. And whatever it is, it’s so dark it’s busy eating them up from inside.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ Dog said.

  ‘We need to get these people to talk, boss,’ Chaz said. ‘Their dark little secret is the key to everything. If they only understood that.’

  ‘Whatever their secret is, it’s safe to say it’s got something t
o do with those three bodies.’

  Hertzog nodded. ‘Yes, I’m beginning to agree. However, for now Bredekamp is our main suspect. Have we heard anything yet from the forensic anthropologist?’

  ‘No, boss.’

  ‘What did you learn about Bredekamp?’ Hertzog asked.

  ‘Sad story, if ever there was one,’ Jannie said. ‘As a young boy Bredekamp showed incredible potential. He went to study engineering at Wits University. He graduated, summa cum laude. It seems, however, as if his demons were haunting him from an early age. At least that’s what people say. His life started falling apart a few years after graduating from university. He developed a serious drinking problem. And coupled with ever more frequent visits to the Thaba Nchu Sun Casino it ruined his chances at success. People say he lost his family’s fortune at the gambling tables.’

  Gambling was illegal in South Africa. But just like the Native American reservations capitalised by legalising gambling, the Homeland states (developed by the Apartheid government to give a semblance of democracy and black independence) each had its own highly profitable casino. The Thaba Nchu Sun was in Lesotho however, which was a fully independent country. The proximity to the Orange Free State meant that for most gamblers it was little more than a two hour drive away.

  ‘By the time Bredekamp was in his early thirties he was virtually destitute. He also owed thousands to some of Coffee’s wealthiest residents. If it wasn’t for the sympathy of his sister he would have been homeless. Up until the time of his death he was earning scraps doing odd jobs all over town as a handyman.’ Jannie scanned the faces of the other detectives. ‘The sad thing is Bredekamp himself comes from one of the region’s most well-established families.’

  ‘I don’t know, he just doesn’t sound like a cold-blooded killer.’