It was a Mexican stand-off. Composed of silence.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
And then. Just like that. Rockcliff slumped into his bed. The ECG began to slow down. Rockcliff gave the detective one last hateful stare. Then pressed a button on a device next to his bed. ‘Jeffery.’
Seconds passed.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Please request that a Flying Squad patrol car be sent to Nadine’s residence.’
‘Very well, sir.’ Pause. ‘I’m familiar with the address, sir.’
Thirty one
In the quiet streets of Stellenbosch Blitspatrollie (Flying Squad) patrol vehicle number 225B happened to be a few streets from Nadine’s residence. The two police officers inside were returning from a call-out which ended up being a false alarm. Now they drove at a leisurely pace through the quaint university town’s placid streets. Both eyed the empty sidewalks with melancholy, missing the cute students who used to crowd these same streets during university semesters. The radio crackled.
‘Bravo Papa twee-twee-vyf ... Bravo Papa twee-twee-vyf.’
Bravo Papa two-two-five.
Bravo Papa was the official call sign for the Blitspatrollie.
The officer riding shotgun grabbed the radio receiver. ‘Bravo Papa two-two-five. What’s up?’
‘Bravo Papa, we got an urgent call-out to Graduandi Street. A possible abduction.’ The dispatch operator provided the address.
‘We’re on it, control.’ The officer stared at the driver with glee. ‘Action, ek sê,’ he said, whooping with excitement.
The driver floored the pedal. The tyres of the souped-up Toyota RSi burnt white hot smoke as the police car raced towards Nadine Rockcliff.
Thirty two
Nadine sat up on the couch as The Simpsons credits rolled across the screen, accompanied by the distinctive theme music. She giggled as she thought of the show she had just seen. ‘What a crazy bunch,’ she said to herself. She stood up and took a dirty mug with her to the kitchen.
As she entered the neat little kitchen she heard the doorbell ring. She placed the mug on the counter and headed through the door. Through the opaque glass of the front door she saw a dark shape hover at the entrance. With a few quick steps she crossed the distance to the lounge. And spent a few moments locating her keys.
She inserted the key and turned it.
She opened the front door.
And ...
Thirty three
Two uniformed policemen stood at Nadine’s front door. She stared, dumbfounded.
‘Miss, we received a report that you may be in danger.’ The driver of the patrol car peered around Nadine, scanning the interior of her flat. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I don’t understand,’ Nadine said, flustered. ‘I’m in danger? What do you mean?’
‘Miss, your father has requested that you please accompany us to the police station. He has arranged transport to take you back home.’
‘Back home? I ... what’s going on?’ She asked, anxiety gripping her.
The cop paused. ‘Miss, we’ve received information that you may be the victim of a possible abduction.’
‘What?’ Nadine felt the blood drain from her face.
‘We will wait here while you pack, ma’am.’
With trembling hands Nadine walked to her room and packed a small suitcase, taking just the necessary items. When she had done, she joined the two policemen at her front door. They led her to the patrol car.
‘What about your friend, miss?’ The cop asked as he opened the back door for her and helped her inside.
‘My friend?’
‘The man who was standing by your front door.’
‘My front door?’
‘Yes,’ the driver said, glancing at his partner. ‘For a moment we thought he was the kidnapper. But when he entered the next door apartment we assumed he was just a friend.’
Nadine sat for a moment, silent. She found it difficult to focus her thoughts. ‘Oh, it’s probably just Mike, my next door neighbour,’ she said, not for a moment realising how close she had come to certain death.
Thirty four
As soon as Hertzog received confirmation that the girl was safe, he bid farewell to a surly Alistair Rockcliff. The detectives from the Major Crimes Unit left the room and exited the Rockcliff residence while the butler held open the door for them. When they were out of earshot, Dog jogged in order to catch up to Jools. ‘Damn,’ he said, giggling like a schoolboy. ‘I was so hoping his name would be Jeeves.’
Jools chuckled. ‘Disappointed, are we?’
‘Constable van der Merwe, thank you for your assistance,’ Hertzog said, addressing the young Constable. ‘You can be proud of yourself. We all did very good work here today.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ he said, beaming. ‘Do you need a ride?’
‘No, thanks. You go ahead. Please inform Major Bismarck about today’s events.’
‘I will do that, Captain.’ He shook Hertzog’s hand. ‘It was an honour working with you.’
Hertzog nodded in appreciation. He waited until the Constable had departed before he turned to his men. ‘Gentlemen, I’m afraid now that we foiled this madman’s plans he’s going to be enraged. It’s only going to serve to make his actions even more unpredictable.’ Hertzog looked grim. ‘I’m afraid he’s going to strike any moment. At any target.’ He turned to Dog. ‘Detective, tell the Major we need to institute an immediate curfew. Plus it’s my earnest recommendation that school be suspended for the moment. No child is to be left unaccompanied ... at any time. For any reason. Please make my concerns clear to him.’
‘Yes, boss.’
Hertzog sighed. ‘We’ve run out of time. We can’t carry on like this anymore. I’ve had just about enough of these people and their psychotic insistence to keep the truth from us.’ He paused, a grim expression on his face. ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures. I’m going to be contacting my new friend, Dawie Malan, for one last favour. We’re going to need serious re-enforcements, gentlemen. It’s time to fight fire with fire. ’
Thirty five
‘We’ve discovered the identity of the perpetrator,’ Hertzog said to a stunned group of Coffee police officers.
Silence.
Hertzog, Chaz, Dog, Duvenhage and Jools were crammed into Major Bismarck’s office together with around two dozen of Coffee’s finest. Major Bismarck rose slowly from his chair. ‘That’s ... incredible news, Captain.’ The station commander looked as stunned as any of his uniformed officers. ‘I had no idea you had progressed so far in your investigation.’
‘We uncovered a vital clue earlier today, Major,’ Hertzog said, lying. ‘It has allowed us to establish the identity of the killer without a shadow of a doubt.’ He paused for dramatic effect, scanning the stunned faces of the Coffee policemen. ‘I am ready to reveal his identity.’
Silence.
‘Well, who is it?’ One of the older Coffee policemen asked.
‘I’m sorry. At this stage I’m not able to reveal who it is. Right now the only advantage we have is the element of surprise.’
‘Surely you don’t think it’s one of us, Captain?’ The Major asked, indicating his men grouped around him.
‘Of course not, Major. However, I am going to need your assistance to make my plan work.’
‘Your plan?’
‘Yes. I’m going to be announcing the identity of the perpetrator tonight at a meeting in the town hall.’ The group of uniformed officers broke into frenzied whispering. Hertzog waited for the commotion to die down. ‘I’m going to need your men to criss-cross the town and announce to everyone that we’ve managed to identify the psychopath that’s been terrorising Coffee. They need to inform the residents of Coffee about tonight’s meeting. I need everyone to attend. Without exception. Please impress upon the good people of Coffee the absolute urgency of my request.’ Hertzog eyed the group. ‘Will you be able to do that?’ The Coffee policemen all turned to their commander.
&n
bsp; ‘Yes, of course. I can arrange that.’ Bismarck paused. ‘However, I do feel it’s only proper protocol for you to tell us everything you know, Captain.’
‘I’m truly sorry, Major, but for everything to go according to plan it’s imperative that only I and my investigators know what we will be revealing tonight. Our suspect has to be lulled into a false sense of security. Even the slightest suspicion will ruin everything.’ Bismarck nodded, reluctantly acquiescing. ‘Gentlemen, I thank you for your invaluable assistance. We cannot do this without you.’ Hertzog paused, reflecting. ‘Tonight we will bring these terrible events to an end. Tonight there will be justice.’
Major Bismarck stared at Hertzog with thinly disguised suspicion.
Unbeknownst to the good people of Coffee three ensemble transport trucks loaded with troops were just then departing the Tempe Military Base in Bloemfontein.
Thirty six
From the four corners of Coffee they came. In twos. In threes. And – amongst the crowd slowly making its way to the town hall – the odd loner. There were no children. Hertzog had requested that all the town’s youths be sequestered in the school hall, under the protection of armed police officers. A roll-call had been instituted to ensure that no children were absent.
With mute fascination they came. Whispering amongst themselves. Some stared at the Pretoria detectives with suspicion. Others greeted Hertzog and his men with guarded friendliness. But whatever the case, in a ceaseless stream of humanity the people of Coffee entered the town hall. This was the event of the year. And no-one wanted to miss the grand spectacle.
Just before seven o’ clock, Bismarck indicated that everyone that could attend was there. A few exceptions based on health and work obligations had been made. One of these was naturally Alistair Rockcliff. However, Doctor De Wet Bismarck was there. He was still being charged with murder (although Hertzog had already made arrangements to vacate the charges) and had been told his co-operation would secure a downgrade in his charges. Yes, everyone was there.
The truth was, of course, that Hertzog only really needed the attendance of a few key people. The presence of the others that night was only to secure his ruse. A mere formality really. But no-one needed to know that. It was true what he had told the policemen in Major Bismarck’s office. He needed to create a false sense of security amongst his targets. And as the townspeople filed into the large hall Hertzog felt he had achieved exactly that.
Hertzog gave the signal for his detectives to close the doors. Inside it was standing room only. More than enough people to create the effects he needed. As he walked down the centre aisle he felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on him. This was it. The time of reckoning had arrived. And not a moment too soon.
He climbed the side stairs and mounted the stage. Mid-stage was a speaker’s podium. Instead of moving in behind it he moved in front of it. He placed a manila envelope on the shiny wooden surface of the podium. The cacophony of a hundred conversations slowly began to die down. Hertzog waited patiently. In the crowd he saw the faces of the people whose presence was absolutely crucial to his plans. De Wet Bismarck and his droopy wife, Alte. Mayor Botha and the grand doyenne of Coffee, Carol-Ann Botha. It took him another moment to spot a dejected Johann Trudouw, eyes downcast. A perfect plan would have included the attendance of the fourth piece of the sordid puzzle, Alistair Rockcliff. But what can you do? Standing with their backs to the main door were Chaz and Dog. Jools guarded the side door to his left while Jannie Duvenhage stood at the one to his right. Everything was in place. It was time for the games to begin.
While Hertzog waited for the noise to die down he spotted Marike and her husband, Jack Strydom a few rows from the front. She shot Hertzog a quick smile as his eyes fell upon her. She quickly averted her eyes as Jack glared at her from the adjacent seat. In the far right corner Hertzog saw the towering shape of Dominee Joubert. His face betrayed no emotion.
Hertzog stepped forward. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for taking the effort to be here tonight. I promise you will not be disappointed.’ A short burst of whispered conversations met his words. ‘However ... I have a confession to make.’ This time his words met a confused silence. ‘I brought you here under false pretences.’
Silence.
The lack of words was equalled only by the ubiquitous mystification on the faces of the crowd gathered before Hertzog. He waited for maximum impact. ‘I lied. I am not going to reveal the identity of the person who’s been stalking the streets of Coffee. In fact, I have no idea who that person is. Tonight ... we’re going to be discussing something altogether different.’
The hall exploded into outrage.
Thirty seven
‘What is the meaning of this, Hertzog?’ Mayor Lloyd Botha jumped up from his chair, shouting. ‘Do you think your position gives you the right to treat us like children? Like country simpletons?’ His words enflamed the outrage of the townspeople and they now burst into open rage. Many now stood up, shouting and jeering at Hertzog. Out of the corner of his eye, Hertzog saw Jannie Duvenhage shuffle nervously.
Major Bismarck also jumped up. ‘You disappoint me, Captain Hertzog. You request our co-operation and this is how you treat us?’
Jeering and shouting.
‘This is an outrage, sir.’ This time it was Carol-Ann’s turn. ‘You have treated us with nothing but disdain since the very beginning.’ She glared at Herzog. ‘This is the last straw.’
‘We know people, Hertzog,’ her husband said next to her. ‘I will have your badge for this latest insult.’
Hertzog took his badge from his jacket pocket, neatly dodging an empty Coke can. ‘Oh, this? You can have it, Mayor Botha. But I don’t think it will do you much good.’ He paused, surveying the chaotic crowd. People were shouting and pumping their firsts into the air. Many cupped their hands around their mouths, booing the Pretoria detective. ‘When I’m done with you tonight you are more likely going to need the services of a good lawyer.’
‘I will not stand for this,’ the mayor said. ‘You cannot treat us like this. We’re not country bumpkins.’
Hertzog stepped forward. ‘No, you’re not,’ he said, shouting to make himself heard. ‘You’re murderers.’
For a few seconds the wild noise died down. Many in the seething crowd looked at their partners in confusion. Others became quiet ... and pale.
‘How dare you?’ The mayor began shuffling down the row of chairs, making his way to the exit. ‘I will not stand for this.’ His wife promptly followed him.
The shouting and gesticulating began anew. This time with a violent edge. Even the burly Chaz and Dog began looking nervous. All over the hall people began moving towards the exit.
Mayor Botha stood in the central aisle, pointing an accusing finger at Hertzog. ‘There will be repercussions for this. You have my word.’ He stormed towards the main doors. Chaz and Dog stepped aside as others joined him. Several other items were thrown at Hertzog.
The Mayor flung open the doors. And stopped dead in his tracks.
He turned, violent rage on his face. ‘What the hell is the meaning of this?’
The other townspeople behind him looked at their leader with bewilderment. From their positions they couldn’t see beyond the half-opened doors. They didn’t understand what had caused him to halt.
Outside someone barked a harsh command. The trained voice washed over the people inside the hall. And triggered an instant silence. Confusion turned to fear. And fear turned to chaos.
The doors burst open. Several women screamed. Someone yelled for help.
A double line of soldiers marched into the hall. With stony faces. And semi-automatic rifles held to their chests. The twin line of soldiers marched down the central aisle of the hall. In exact unison their heavy combat boots slammed into the linoleum floor.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Those citizens who were unfortunate enough to stand in the middle aisle were unceremoniously shoved to the side. Several fell back onto chairs. Or into t
he flailing arms of their neighbours.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Like stormtroopers the double line of soldiers marched in perfect unison down the aisle, heading for the stage. When the advancing soldiers reached the stage the twin line of troops neatly divided into two separate ranks. One line of troops executed a perfect ninety-degree right turn while the other line marched towards the left. When they reached opposite sides of the hall they again executed perfect turns, now heading towards the back of the hall, marching along the side walls. The twin lines of soldiers entering the main hall doors continued feeding the lines that now snaked along the outside of the hall. At the back of the hall the advance guard of soldiers executed a last ninety degree turn. Marching in flawless unison the lead soldiers now met up with the ranks entering the hall. The cordon of troops was complete.
Another order was shouted from outside.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
The two lines of soldiers now turned inwards.
Silence.
The twin lines of soldiers had formed two rectangles around the two blocks of chairs situated on either side of the central aisle. In effect, they had formed two cordons around the people gathered in the hall. Every single person in the hall was now inside a tight barrier of soldiers from the Tempe Military Base in Bloemfontein. Hertzog had just managed to imprison virtually the entire adult population of Coffee. Marike looked at Hertzog with alarm. An unspoken question flashed across her angular features. Several women cringed in fear, clasped in the tight embrace of their husbands and partners. Others stood staring with pale faces at the robotic soldiers. A few others were crying openly.
Mayor Botha dusted himself off. He was one of the unfortunate who had been pushed to the floor. ‘What ...?’ His voice was a squeak in the awful silence of the hall. ‘What in God’s name is going on here?’ He asked, managing to regain his composure. He glared at Hertzog. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ He pointed at his neighbours. ‘We are citizens of South Africa, dammit. You have no right to do this.’
The Man in the Wind Page 22