by Ian Patrick
‘Always a good thing to do on a stakeout, Jeremy. I’m putting this call on speaker so Mavis can also participate. Is that OK?’
‘Yes, of course. Hi Mavis.’
‘Hello Detective Jeremy.’
‘I was thinking, Navi. I was thinking about the phone-calls you and I discussed. Between phone number one and phone number two. You can explain to Mavis later. But for the moment, I’ve been thinking about the latest call from phone number two, which we know is Mkhize, to phone number one. Who could be anyone, but who we think is most likely our friend Thabethe. Koos van Rensburg told me that Mkhize called phone number one which was at some place in Cato Manor at 13.00 on Thursday and again at some place in Wilson’s Wharf at 14.00 on Sunday. It’s the Sunday call I’m interested in. Now what do you think of when you think of Wilson’s Wharf on the one hand and Thabethe on the other?’
‘Nyaope, Jeremy. No question. One Red Rooster, big dealer in Nyaope, and one Skhura Thabethe, little dealer in nyaope.’
‘So why was Mkhize calling Thabethe somewhere in Wilson’s Wharf on Sunday at 14.00?’
‘Maybe Big Red is back in the dealing business, Jeremy, and maybe he’s picking up old clients. Like Thabethe.’
‘Maybe, Navi.... but I was thinking...’
‘Sorry, Jeremy, sorry to interrupt, but Mavis is saying something. What, Mavis, you want to talk to Jeremy?’
‘Yes, please, Navi. I’m thinking...’
‘Put her on, Navi. Oh, yes. You’re on speaker. OK, so go ahead, Mavis. What is it?’
Mavis was very tentative. She felt acutely embarrassed at having interrupted the two detectives. But at the same time she was enormously excited.
‘Detective Jeremy, you were saying just now about the phone calls… the phone call from the one man to phone number one...’
‘Yes, Mavis? What about it? The guy called the phone when it was at Wilson’s Wharf, where you and Navi are sitting now...’
‘No, Mr Jeremy. I’m not thinking about the Sunday phone call. You said there was one other phone call on Thursday to Cato Manor.’
‘Yes, that’s right, Mavis.’
‘It was at what time, Mr Jeremy? You said one o’clock?’
‘Yes, Mavis, that’s right. A call was made to phone number one in Cato Manor at 13.00 on Thursday.’
‘It is exactly the same time, Mr Jeremy. The same time as that hijacking in Cato Manor. Where that man who was being hijacked was killing the hijacker with six bullets. The bullets that killed the hijacker man they came from the SIG gun. The same SIG gun that was used in KwaDukuza to kill Sinethemba and the other constables.’
11.00.
If Pillay and Mavis had hung on for another hour, instead of tearing off back to the station, they would have seen their quarry walk right past the windscreen of their vehicle. Thabethe parked a mere three or four bays from where Pillay’s car had been. He got out, looked around quickly, and then made his way immediately to the luxury yacht moored at the end of the quay.
As he mounted to the deck, Thabethe marvelled again at the luxurious fittings. On Sunday Big Red had proudly boasted that he could accommodate eight people in four en-suite cabins. He had shown Thabethe the jacuzzi in the Master Cabin and boasted about the refined elegance of the twenty-three metre vessel, fitted out with entertainment systems that were state of the art. The galley had every modern convenience and the big man talked about the elegant dining that he could serve his guests.
He talked with some bitterness about the previous vessel he had had, impounded by the cops just over ten days ago, but sniggered at the fact that at the time of the bust this vessel had been moored a mere fifty paces from the other one and had escaped the attention of the cops. He was particularly proud of his two fifteen hundred horse-power Caterpillar C30 diesel engines with a cruising speed of twenty-five knots and a maximum speed of ten knots above that. The range was supposed to be five hundred nautical miles, he told Thabethe, but he had frequently gone beyond that, he boasted.
None of this had meant much to Thabethe until the big man started talking about his ideas for the potential in the nyaope trade and his plans for ranging from Durban to Maputo and beyond. At this point Thabethe had become particularly focused. Maybe this was his way out of KwaZulu-Natal, where he was now a wanted man and which he had to escape in order to survive.
For now, Big Red wanted to build on the relationship the two of them had established. As a sign of good faith, he had even told Thabethe on Sunday that on Tuesday morning he would give Thabethe the next pack of nyaope - at the same special price - and that Thabethe could pay him for it when he returned again on Tuesday afternoon for their planned second meeting. The morning meeting would be a quick one for Thabethe simply to collect the whoonga and the afternoon meeting would be a much longer one, where the two of them would sketch out plans for a much bigger operation, and during which they would also discuss specific plans for what to do about that Detective Jeremy Ryder.
Had Pillay and Mavis Tshabalala remained for another hour, they would have seen the two men come back out onto the deck after just a few minutes, and would have witnessed the big man crunch the hand of the smaller man. Crunched to such an extent that the Rooster had to apologise for his strength, prompting Thabethe then to introduce the big man to a complicated ‘township handshake’, as he described it, that produced laughter from both of them as Big Red failed to master it.
After the rare moment of levity for both of them, Thabethe walked down the stairs and across to his car. He carried the pack of nyaope thinking that he was starting to move up in the world. Here was a businessman who had handed him fifty thousand rands worth of the stuff, and done so completely on trust. He would return in the afternoon with the fifty thousand rands in cash. The whoonga would soon be turned into three times that amount, with the help of his partner. He and Mkhize had worked on Thabethe’s first-ever deal with a business partner. One that had turned fifty thousand rands rapidly into one hundred and fifty thousand rands. Together they owned one hundred thousand rands in cash, now resting safely underground in a tin in a spot known only to the two of them, with Mkhize holding the remaining fifty thousand rands for the payment to the big man this afternoon. Working with a partner had its advantages. Business was booming and the future looked good.
Big Red watched him go, and started thinking that he and Thabethe could do big things together up and down the coast.
But what weird eyes the guy has, thought the Rooster.
12.15.
The whole office was buzzing with praise for Mavis. Ryder and Pillay had unpacked the news for the benefit of all of them. Mavis beamed as she was praised by the Captain, KoeksnDips, and Cronje.
Ryder could have kicked himself when he had realised, he told Pillay.
‘Not only when I realised I had missed the connection between the SIG and the call to phone number one in Cato Manor. But also when I realised that I had forgot to share with you Nadine’s news on the ballistics from Cato Manor. What a prick!’
‘Not a problem at all, Jeremy. All of us were taken by surprise.’
‘Except Mavis.’
‘Except Mavis. Maybe we all need to spend more time with Nadine Salm, hey, Mavis?’
‘Yes, Detective Navi,’ Mavis smiled.
Then they all got down very quickly to planning the next steps. Ryder was now working on the assumption that Thabethe had found both the cell-phone and the SIG Sauer belonging to Themba. And if this proved to be correct, then Thabethe had pumped six bullets into the would-be hijacker.
Mavis then interrupted to add another observation. One that brought the entire office to a moment of stasis.
‘Detective Jeremy. Nadine Salm was saying that she is going to check the database for fingerprints and DNA to see who is the man eating the Kentucky Fried Chicken at Cato Manor. She was saying it will take a long time. But if she was checking those things not against the database but against the file only of Skhura Thabethe, then maybe it would go quicker.’
The second or two of complete silence was ruptured by Koekemoer.
‘Yissus, Mavis. I think I’m going to ask you to complete my tax return this year.’
The babble of affirmation was overwhelming for Mavis, and she covered her face with both hands.
Mavis then took great delight in responding to Captain Nyawula’s request that she herself go through to Sergeant Cronje’s office and immediately put a call through to Nadine Salm to ask her to implement exactly what she had just suggested.
With Mavis out of the room, there was a round of silent high-fives, fist-punches, and nodding affirmations. After the tragedy of Sinethemba’s death, Mavis was back on track.
Pillay and Ryder made the move to disperse. They were going out to Mkhize’s place together, but in separate cars, they told the Captain. Nothing had come from Pillay’s observation this morning at Wilson’s Wharf, or from Ryder’s at Westville, so they decided that it was time to tail Mkhize. If by any chance Mkhize made a move, they would follow him. And if he met anyone, the detectives would split and would tail both of them.
17.15.
The afternoon had been tedious. Since leaving the Captain and the rest of the team at 12.30 Pillay and Ryder had been on two different stakeouts, now going on for well over four hours. Almost an hour out at Nomivi’s Tavern, followed by more than three hours, now, at Wilson’s Wharf. They had their eye on one vessel only. They had been sitting in Pillay’s car looking at nothing else.
Nothing. No-one came. No-one went. Thirty metres away from where Pillay had parked her car the yacht rocked gently on the swell.
The only break in the tedium was when Nyawula called.
‘Jeremy?’
‘Captain?’
‘Still at the Yacht Club?’
‘Yes, Cap’n. Navi’s with me. We’re in her car.’
‘Anything?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all. But we’ll hang in. Maybe they’ll come before dark. We’ll give it up after sunset if there’s nothing.’
‘OK. Call if you need anything. In the meantime here’s something for you.’
‘What’s that, Captain?’
‘Nadine thought Mavis had hit it right on the head. So she dropped everything she was doing. She’s now run Thabethe against the evidence from Cato Manor. It’s a hit. He’s definitely the Cato Manor man.’
‘Good on Mavis!’
Pillay knew immediately what that meant and gave Ryder a fist-punch.
‘No surprises, Jeremy, but good to have it wrapped up like that. Get that little bastard for me, will you?’
‘We will, Captain.’
‘Take care, Jeremy.’
And he was gone. In the light of their flagging energy the call had served to give Ryder and Pillay a little boost.
‘Hungry, Navi? We didn’t have any lunch. I told Fiona I’d only be back around nine or ten tonight. How about something?’
‘For sure.’
‘Toss you for one of us to go and get some John Dory’s? Safer than going into the Yacht Club.’
‘Right on.’
They tossed a coin. Ryder lost. They both decided on the quick take-away special from the fish restaurant. He got out of the car to walk the fifty metres over to his own. They had separated their two cars earlier on, in an effort not to attract attention. Before he left her, he leaned in through the window.
‘I should be no more than thirty minutes. Call the moment you see anything and I’ll come right back.’
‘OK, Jeremy. Bring me a coke, too, will you.’
‘Sure.’
Ryder strode over to his car and within a couple of minutes he was driving down to the far end of the wharf. The restaurant was little more than five hundred metres away but he wanted the car in case a quick return became necessary.
Pillay watched him go. Her gaze drifted back to the yacht moored just thirty paces from where she sat. Her thoughts ranged over the possibilities that she and Ryder had discussed during the course of the afternoon’s long wait. And she re-visited the events of the past few hours.
They had had a chance to bust both Mkhize and Thabethe this afternoon, but had decided to hold back and follow the trail to where Ryder was sure the honey-pot waited. Somewhere in the area surrounding the Royal Natal Yacht Club he was convinced that Big Red had a big stash of drugs. He had been bust ten days ago with a sizeable haul at his home in Westville, but once Ryder had heard this morning that the big man was out on bail, he was convinced that there was much more stuff tucked away somewhere. The guy oozed ostentatious wealth. His lawyer was the most expensive criminal lawyer known to the police throughout the province. The Rooster had been sprung from prison on an enormous bail, the price tag for which he probably hadn’t even blinked at. Ryder wanted him badly. He was prepared to hold back for a while on an instant arrest of Thabethe if it gave him a chance to nail Big Red too. Big Red would lead them to the real prize.
So when Thabethe arrived at Nomivi’s in a 1974 Ford while they were watching Mkhize’s place, the initial excitement gave way to a wait-and-see game. Speaking on their iPhones from their separate cars, the two detectives decided not to barge in and arrest both Mkhize and Thabethe. They would have had them cold, Pillay thought, but she saw the sense in Ryder’s argument.
They watched as Mkhize and Thabethe talked out on the street, not noticing either of the two cars each parked more than fifty metres from where they stood, one up the street and the other down the street. They continued to watch as a woman walked out from Nomivi’s and handed the two men each a bottle of beer before she returned to the tavern. They watched the two men as they laughed, clapped each other on the back, and did high-fives. Pillay had grown more and more incensed, but she went along with Ryder’s decision to hold back.
Eventually Thabethe got back into his car. Mkhize leaned in at the window. Thabethe handed him a small package, and Mkhize took what looked like three different wads of cash from his pockets and handed it all over to the man in the car. Then Thabethe drove off, and Mkhize returned with the package to his room at the back.
‘Change of plan, Navi. Looks like Mkhize is staying put. We could bust him now. That’s probably an expensive pack of whoonga for their next round of dealing. But we can bust him for that anytime. Maybe even tomorrow. For now, let’s rather both get on Thabethe’s tail. Discreet distance. I’ll go first. If I sense that he suspects I’m on his tail, I’ll call and you can take over.’
‘OK Jeremy. Got you.’
‘Let’s go.’
They had tailed Thabethe all the way to Wilson’s Wharf. They had watched him park the Ford, get out, and walk just over twenty paces before walking up a short flight of stairs onto the deck of a luxury yacht. The two detectives parked as far away from each other as possible, while both keeping the yacht in view, and waited.
Ryder had called after fifteen minutes.
‘This could go on for some time, Navi. My instinct is to wait rather than make a move. Maybe he’s waiting for Big Red.’
‘Maybe Big Red’s already on board.’
‘Could be. But either way we want to take both of them down together. If we bust Thabethe now and find he’s alone on board then we lose Big Red. Let’s wait. The moment he arrives and gets on board we have them both.’
They had waited. And waited. After an hour Ryder had called again to tell her he was coming over to join her. And they had sat together in her car, watching and talking.
Until Ryder had got hungry.
Pillay now turned back to look at the yacht. She realised that her gaze had drifted with her thoughts and she had been looking down the road toward the restaurants, from where Ryder would be returning. As she turned now back to a focus on the yacht, she wound down her window and put her elbow out. Another hot, humid, Durban evening, she thought.
Which was exactly when she felt the prick of a bicycle spoke behind her right ear.
Thabethe chuckled, quietly. Pillay froze. Thabethe whistled, a high-pitched shrill sound
. Which brought Big Red up from the interior of the yacht. As he strode over, almost nonchalantly, Thabethe spoke into Pillay’s ear.
‘You been watching long time, detective. You like my friend’s boat from the outside. Now you come on board to have a good look inside, nè?’
17.55.
Mkhize was in a tearing hurry. He had just taken a call from Thabethe. Grab all your cash and add it to the tin. With the 100k. Everything you got, Spikes!
Then, he was told, he should head for the hills. Disappear, bra!
Mkhize was storming around the place, screaming at two women inside Nomivi’s, then rushing out to his room, then back again into the tavern, then back to his room. He was gathering things together. He had a big suitcase and had stuffed all sorts of things into it. He was going out somewhere for a few days, he shouted. He would phone them and let them know what he was doing.
As Mkhize got into his car his mind was racing over the things Thabethe had told him. He and the big mlungu had captured the Indian cop and were holding her as bait to get Ryder. They were going to ambush Ryder then kill both of them and then dump them out at sea. But Big Red was panicking about the whoonga. He thought that if the two detectives were on to them at Wilson’s Wharf then they must have shared their information with other cops. Probably that bastard Nyawula, who was another one that Thabethe wanted to give the spoke to. So all of them had to split. They would have to come back to the big whoonga deal another time. For now, it was time to cover tracks.
But only after getting rid of the two detectives.
In the meantime, Thabethe had told his friend, he should bury any cash he had and run. Ryder might have arranged for the cops to hit Nomivi’s. Mkhize should take cover until he heard more.
Mkhize decided that the few thousand he had in his room was not worth the time it would take to dig up the Bank of Skhura, make the deposit, and then bury it again with the hundred thousand that was already there. He simply pocketed the cash, and roared away into the dusk.
18.00.
Ryder crept, agonizingly slowly, down the internal flight of stairs coming off the deck. The first thing he saw was Pillay, trussed up like a fly wrapped in a spider’s web. Not just tied. Wrapped in metres of rope, and gagged. She couldn’t budge. But her eyes said it all. Panic. Warning Ryder to back away. Just behind her in the galley was someone. One, or two? Ryder crept closer. Pillay was shaking as much of her head as she could, eyes even wider. She rubbed her face against the wall in an effort to free the gag so that she could scream something.