The Score

by HJ Golakai

  “Geez, don’t you think –” Chlöe spluttered, throwing her hands up. It was not possible, couldn’t be, that Vee would overlook the glaring fact that any marginally functional dimwit could look up or get their hands on the contact details of B&M’s acting CEO. “I’m too hot to follow your elegant logic, any logic as a matter of fact, so just put me out of my misery and explain how that card helps us.”

  Vee waved it gleefully. “Remember? Akhona gave us her personal number.” As Chlöe looked closely, the scribbles in black ink on the back of the business card jogged her memory. “Family and friends, the press and assorted harassers may be blocked from calling her usual number, but this one I’m sure has seen a lot less traffic.”

  “Hhmph. Knock yourself out. I doubt she’ll pick up.” Chlöe leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. For a moment, a wholly absurd one, she willed herself to sleep, or at least to doze. She wanted to forget the day. She didn’t want to pay attention to the writhing nest of dark snakes in her chest, goading her to snap. From behind her eyelids, she sensed rather than saw Vee pacing outside, phone to ear, a vertical dash between her eyebrows as she pondered what approach to take if it were answered. Chlöe’s lids fluttered but didn’t part at the sound of Vee’s voice in conversation, the engaging, mollifying, even somewhat cunning tone she used when information lay buried deep within bedrock and she was itching to extract it. After a moment, too brief a moment to indicate success, Chlöe felt the car depress as Vee got back behind the wheel.

  “Dammit. She hung up on me.”

  “At least she answered. That means your theory’s correct,” Chlöe mumbled, parting her eyelids slightly.

  “Her sister picked up. She hardly let the words finish from my mouth before she hung up, and now she’s clearly switched it off because it’s going to voicemail. Buuuuut …” Vee completed a text, pressed send and rested the cell on her knee. She plucked two facial tissues from the Twinsaver pop-up box on the dashboard, conveniently tacked in place with globs of Sticky Stuff that were melting from the heat, and wiped the back of her neck. Her hair, retouched only days ago, had already reverted to tight curls at the back of her neck. Chlöe longed to advise again that she step the haircut up to a more adventurous chin length rather than mid-neck, more because she wanted to see what it would look like than because she felt Vee could carry it off. But she held her tongue, not in the mood to invite airy chatter.

  The phone rang. They both reached for it but Vee, advantaged with a far shorter grasp distance, got it first.

  “Speaker, speaker,” Chlöe hissed, as Vee fumbled with the touchscreen. “Record, record it … yeah that’s the app, open it.”

  “… heard it was you and thought, hhawu, this one can’t even show the respect she should have for the dead or rapidly dying.” The voice emanating from the microphone sounded oddly thick and scrape-y, like a load of rubble falling down a long, deep pipe. Not like Moloi’s voice at all, or any woman’s, even a man’s. “My sister’s being overprotective but ah, thank God for her, because for sure I can’t do it. We were both shocked to hear this phone ringing. I brought it only to receive very urgent calls from clients. Once she read me your text,” Akhona’s laugh changed quickly into a frightening cough that took time to die down, “I knew I should answer, or you’d keep calling. I didn’t call you tenacious for nothing.”

  Vee, phone close to mouth but tilted towards Chlöe, laughed in response. “Your word was reckless as a matter of fact. It’s horrible what’s happened to you, horrible and horrifying. I can’t imagine what that must’ve felt like. Mssh, what am I saying? I have first-hand experience.” She allowed for a polite pause. “I know you’ve been through hell, you’re exhausted and not up for a long conversation, but if you could just go over what happened last night.”

  Moments passed as through the line came the sound of voices embroiled in what was clearly a debate bordering on an argument; Akhona’s low, scary rasp pitted against a plaintive staccato that climbed in octaves. Vee frowned pointedly at Chlöe, looking hopeful for a translation. Chlöe put a hand over the microphone and replied, “My Tswana’s horrible, hey. Besides, I can barely hear what they’re saying.”

  “My sister isn’t amused with you right now,” Akhona croaked finally. “She’s telling me to tell you to go stick your interview where the sun don’t shine.”

  “That place is full up right now, believe me. But I get it, I really do. If you’d prefer we come up –”

  “No. That won’t fly.” A fit of coughing blasted down the line and lasted far too long. Vee moved the phone away from her ear till the firing came under control. “Sorry,” Moloi’s gasps were followed by the sound of wet gulping, she was taking a drink Chlöe surmised, “they’ve given me this disgusting solution to calm my vocal cords. It’ll be a while before I sound human again.”

  “Look. How and why exactly did Xoli attack you?” Chlöe cut in. Vee gave her a warning look. She ignored it.

  “Who’s that –? Oh. The other one. Ehmm … Mary.”

  “Chlöe!” Chlöe snapped. Vee jerked the phone away.

  “Yes, yes. Sorry, sorry. I’m drowsy, so tired.” The line went quiet and stayed quiet. They looked at each other.

  “I was working late yesterday evening. At the office.” They both sat up straighter when Moloi’s voice came back on.

  “How late are we talking?” Vee asked.

  “I got in after three p.m. I attended the ten o’clock church service, I go to Rhema Bible in town. I meant to have a quick brunch with a friend at the Waterfront but we kind of got carried away window shopping, and actual shopping.” Akhona tried to chuckle and ended up barking. Vee tilted the phone away again till it subsided. “Sorry. I should stop trying to be funny, hey, it really isn’t helping. Anyway, finally I got to the office at just past three and settled in, worked until it was late. I don’t even know where the time went. I looked up and it was dark outside. I thought I could go until midnight, was prepared to, but then …” The burden of regret in her pause was unmistakeable. “Xoli barged in.”

  “She what –? How …? How did she get in? Unless you …”

  “What? Don’t insult me by suggesting that I’d be insane enough to let that woman anywhere near me willingly. I – I’ve been thinking about it, how I must’ve been careless. I went down at around half-eight, down the road to get a Steers burger. Going in and coming out I usually lock the security gate but – I – I must’ve forgotten. I think about it now and can clearly see how I only closed the glass door and not the gate before I went up. I was so hungry.” Her deep, alien-husky voice cracked some more. “I almost lost my life because of hunger.”

  “You can’t blame yourself f–” Vee began.

  Chlöe cut her off, “Why? She obviously wanted to confront you, either that or to get her money, to make you hand it over. Why last night? Why would she come to your office in the middle of the night?”

  “I – I … Look, this wasn’t my intention … I didn’t think – she’s so … she made me …”

  “Akhona, listen.” Vee held up a finger to silence Chlöe. “We can’t work with half-truths. Yes, okay, we are after a story and we can still run a pretty good one with what we’ve got right now. But that doesn’t help you much, or us for that matter, to stop her,” Vee threw up her free hand in search of words, “this … campaign of terror she’s running. If you want to cut her off at the knees, then bite the bullet and do it. One fell swoop.” There was another long pause. A bird tweeted as it dove past the windscreen and dumped a splatter of poop on the glass. Vee gave it the finger as it flapped away. “Are you selling the company? Is that what you’re hiding?”

  “What?! Selling? Selling B&M? Are you mad?” Moloi snorted and finally managed a laugh that didn’t regress into a spray of hacking. “My girl, you can’t just sell a company. It’s not like selling sweets. There are steps to follow, many, many things to consider before taking a leap like that. And putting a convincingly positive spin on our
portfolio right after the CEO and managing partner dies? Not to mention finding a buyer in this climate? God, as if I don’t have enough on my plate already. Nothing’s being sold, my dear, nothing. At this juncture the future of many things is up in the air and to be frank, I don’t have the energy to pull them back down into reality. Just the other day uh … Ryan, Ryan Walsh, he was … uhmm … talking, considering. Playing with the idea that we do a consortium together, us, the jilted group from LEAD. Show the government that the private sector has some balls of our own, that we can run our own set-up without their help, without turning it into a joke. But seriously, I can’t think about all that right now.”

  “So Gaba went to confront you then,” Vee prodded. “About the disk. That encrypted information on it is her jackpot. She’d amassed enough private transactions and client information about the scam y’all were running and she was tired of waiting for y’all to honour your word and pay up. With Gavin gone, it started to sink in that it wasn’t gonna happen. Not unless she forced it out of you. Last night she snapped.”

  “She didn’t get tired of waiting. I confronted her. I got tired.” Moloi was on the verge of sobbing. “So flippin’ tired! Who can live like this? I’m not Gavin!” She hauled in several deep breaths. “When you stopped by the office the other day, Friday was it, when you were leaving and you said to me ‘get some rest’. Then I … I … it really hit me. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, get any rest while she was terrorising me. I thought about it long and hard, and then I called her. Gave her a piece of my bloody mind. Told her there was no money coming, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. I told her about telling my story to the papers since the cops are too slow to help me. I didn’t name any names but she knew I meant you guys. I said once I opened up it would blow her scam wide open, then where would she be? She could try her luck countering it and see if she didn’t end up looking even guiltier.”

  “Agggghhhh!” Chlöe howled. Vee threw her head back and repeatedly thumped a fist against her forehead. “You realise what you did?” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Put my life in danger to save it!”

  “No! Yes. No – okay listen. By telling her, you put yourself in the crosshairs, and you’re damn lucky it wasn’t fatal. You should’ve let the story break and waited to see her reaction. In fact, you should’ve put the police on alert as to how you expected her to react, because she definitely wouldn’t have been able to resist rising to the bait. That would’ve led to the arrest she deserves.”

  “No,” Akhona spat. “No ways. I’m done putting my life in the hands of the police, the hands of the media. It was stupid perhaps, but there it was. So when she came fuming into my office Sunday night, I was shocked, yes, but at the same time I wasn’t. She started screaming, smashing things. Saying how she needed that money to start a new life, start her own business, maybe even leave South Africa. That she had friends who were counting on her to produce the start-up capital, she had investors itching to sink their dough in her ideas. How she had great talent and she could take it anywhere. Hela! Talent where? I laughed and laughed. She’s a comedian, that one. So very talented that at thirty-five she’s still a loser, there she is slaving behind the Boerewors Curtain in the northern suburbs as a glorified bank teller. I told her she could continue to play games with herself, but as for me, it was over. Nothing, nothing, that Gavin and I built together was leaving B&M. That’s when … she lost it and went for me.”

  Chlöe buried her face in her hands; Vee bowed hers over the phone. Chlöe imagined they were both thinking the same thing: considering the extent of her injuries, had the gamble been worth it? A broken shoulder, dislocated hip, multiple bruises, hours in surgery and intensive care from being pummelled. Weighed up against the gruesome murder of an indispensable business partner and quite possibly the man she loved, Akhona Moloi seemed to think it was.

  “I was nearly unconscious when she ran away and left me there. Had to crawl to my phone and call my sister, get her to call an ambulance. Dead of night. That was the longest wait of my life, let me tell you.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “What do we do now?”

  Eyes averted as she fiddled with the iPhone’s screen, Vee finally sighed in frustration and handed it back. “Check to make sure that recorded properly. I got absolutely no appreciation for all dis Apple and Android technology. All kinda fiddly-touchy screens when you just want do one straight thing.”

  “Yet Nokia you’re sticking behind, the company sinking into the abyss of forgettability? Look, what’re we doing?” The phone’s clock said 16:42. She couldn’t for the life of her give a comprehensive account of anything that had transpired since she’d stepped outside her flat around 6 a.m. It was all a muddled string of stops, snarls, slammed doors, and now this. Her stomach growled; couldn’t be from hunger, she’d been subsisting on nibbles all day. Perhaps her gastritis, which she’d activated some years ago constantly stressing and cramming for exams, was playing up. “Huh? What? Are we just standing around?”

  “Damn, give me a minute to process.” Vee took the minute quietly. “Alright. Here’s what’s doable for the rest of today. We –”

  “I need to go home. Not feeling too well.” Chlöe touched her tummy.

  “Okay. Sure. You alright?” Vee gave her arm a light squeeze. She smiled. “I wasn’t about to suggest we stake out the hospital if that’s what you’re afraid of. We won’t get much more out of Akhona for today. My thoughts are we go home and start on this while it’s all very fresh. I’m tired, but I can whip out a first draft in the next few hours and send it for you to add your thoughts. Tomo–”

  “Why d’you get the first draft? You wrote up Saturday’s. I’ve got the recording don’t forget.”

  Vee blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “I wrote it up because I always do. I put down the foundation and we both build it up from there. Anyway, doesn’t matter who has what, Chlöe, your name still appears, under my by-line. But hey, if you’d rather, get your own rough draft started. We’ll compare and edit before we merge documents. Happy?”

  “Tired.” Chlöe caressed her tummy some more. Her next words were interrupted by the chime of Vee’s new ringtone, Cabo Snoop’s ‘Windeck’, a discordant atrocity that set her teeth on edge. Vee frowned at the unfamiliar number, answering with the cell in the crook of neck and shoulder as she leaned into the car and rummaged through her handbag. She repeated ‘hello’ several times, and then her face changed. She straightened up so fast she nearly dropped the phone and banged her head on the roof.

  “What?” Chlöe hissed. “What?!”

  Vee tipped the cell away a fraction and mouthed ‘Xoliswa’, mouth contorting dramatically over each syllable to render it as clear but soundless as possible. She got out and trotted over to the nearest tree, beckoning frantically. Chlöe scrambled out of the passenger side, making sure not to slam the door, skidded over and pressed in close.

  “Where are you? How did you get my number?” Vee breathed. She smelled like the butterscotch sweet she’d been sucking on.

  She’s not gonna tell us. Chlöe stomped her foot. They’d taken a long shot that Richie could track Gaba, wherever she was, via her phone, but that hadn’t worked. Like any criminal, she’d had the common sense to ditch it and get a new one.

  “Still with the idiotic questions, I see. You’re not the only one with resources. And you’re not that hard to find, at home or at work.” Gaba’s laugh was haughty and bitter. “Where’s the other one, who tells me things I like to hear?”

  “She’s not …” Vee clamped her hand over Chlöe’s mouth, then waved an apology when Chlöe shoved it away, glaring. Plaintive, Vee put a finger over her own lips, then continued, “She’s not here. Not right now.”

  “Ah. Too bad. But never mind. That’s neither here nor there.”

  Vee shook her head. “What are you after here, hmm? What’s your master plan, if I may be so bold as to call it that? You got Gavin out the way, now you won’t rest till you cru
sh Akhona too? If you can’t have it all, then no-one else can?”

  “Only fools want it all. I want what’s owed to me.”

  “Owed? How do you imagine you’re owed?”

  “Figure it out. You have everything you need to know, but you refuse to.”

  “I’m done figuring. My job is not to force connections between non-existent dots. I ask, I probe, I find answers. The closer I get to figuring you out, the more smoke and mirrors you throw up.”

  “And you don’t realise why, because you don’t ask –”

  “Keep quiet. Listen to me.” Vee exhaled shakily. Huddled close, Chlöe used her shoulder to give Vee’s a nudge of solidarity. “Stop messing with us. Gavin, Akhona, I’m not sure how Rhonda Greenwood got in your way, but I know she did … play your games with whoever you think is blocking your majesty’s ascent, but not us. We have no agenda. We’re in it for a story, nothing more. Now, what I’m proposing, what we’ve been proposing all along, is simple. From one side, we’ve gotten more than enough ammunition to bring a world of hurt to your doorstep. From your side, not so much. Which is crazy, because we know you’ve also got mud to sling. Sit down with us, tell us your side of the story, all of it. You can still get in front of this.”

  “Yoh, you. You make nice speeches. You should go write speeches for Malema. People will start to take him more seriously.”

  “Aay yaah. It’s funny how upbeat you are. The police are looking for you.”

  “Ohh wooow. SAPS is hunting me down. I’m scared for my life.”

  “You should be. Joke now, but it won’t be funny for long. Trials shouldn’t play out in the press, but often they do. Give us your story –”

  “My story?! I’ve been trying to do that from the beginning! I read your version of my story on Saturday, all your lies. Is that how you plan on helping me?”