Thabang's suspicions were proved. He had suspected all along that Dumani was in on this. Maybe that’s what the dream was telling him. And the piss. Now that he thought of it, in most cases when he pissed himself he got betrayed later. So it must be that pissing himself was a sign that he was going to get betrayed. He should have thought of that earlier. He should have been more observant. There was a time when he came home after stealing a car and sold it to a guy who lived somewhere in Lentsweng. The guy was going to draw the cash the next day and pay Thabang. So he was in a good mood, went by the shebeen, got pissed a little, came home, sat by the fire and watched his wife — ugly bitch — cook, fell into a quick nap, and when he woke up he had pissed himself really bad and his wife and kids had finished eating supper. She gave him his plate of food and he discovered with crushing disappointment that she had betrayed him big time. She had always known that his favourite chicken piece was the back, but she gave him the legs. She had eaten the back, claiming that the doctor said it was good for her back pain. That got him angry, so he drank a little bit more to calm his nerves. He was angry with his wife, so he made her sleep on the floor that night. He was even thinking of divorce. That night he pissed himself worse than ever. Had he known back then what pissing himself really meant, he would have been prepared for the betrayal that awaited him the next day.
He woke up with a hangover as usual, went to the bank where the guy he sold the stolen car to had said they’d meet, and he wasn’t there. He‘d tried ringing his number and an annoying female voice told him the number didn’t exist. He didn’t even know where he lived. In fact, now that he thought of it, every time he was due to steal a car, he pissed himself. And every time he sold a stolen car, the buyer either disappeared into thin air or paid him peanuts, threatening to report him to the cops for being a car thief if he insisted. That’s why he wasn’t so keen on stealing cars anymore, there was no money in it. There more crooks than money when coming to selling stolen cars.
He had suspected all along that Dumani had hired someone else so that while Thabang was working his ass off looking for the target, Dumani had other people looking for him as well: Nonentities like this guy Mothusi who would have no choice but to deliver the guy to Dumani rather than to Damon directly if they got him. But, because Dumani was so stupid, he couldn't recognize the nonentities from the real target himself, which was why he ended up capturing one of these nonentities. This was probably why Dumani had been against doing away with Mothusi when they had the chance. He had a talk with Damon and they probably agreed that Mothusi could be included in the deal. This was why Dumani was constantly receiving secret calls that he only answered in private, from a private number. That’s probably why he had been pissing himself so much lately, his body must have been sensing the betrayal that was building up.
Thabang was angry. The fact that people were laughing at him was no big deal. People piss themselves all the time. You watch people returning from a peeing session, you'll notice that they've little patches of piss on the front of the trousers. Only difference was his patch was larger, but then he was a big guy, that was all. The bigger you are, the bigger the patch of piss will be, that’s all, and so to hell with anyone who was laughing at him. He had bigger problems than worry about uncivilised town folk laughing at a man who had pissed himself. And the biggest problem was Dumani. A big ugly problem that Thabang swore to himself he was going to deal with diligently.
"Thabang," the big ugly bastard called out. Thabang ignored him. He walked to the van where Eric had the engine going, ignoring a group of inquisitive uncivilised town folk who must have been trying to find out from him what was going on. Eric looked perplexed, probably because he didn't know what was going on just like Thabang didn't.
Thabang climbed into the van.
"What's happening?" asked Eric.
Thabang grunted but said nothing. Dumani had
stopped and seemed to be explaining something to a group of women. Fat bastard.
"Are you guys not going to get the victim?" said Eric.
"It's the wrong guy."
Thabang was going to fix Dumani. That's all he
was thinking about. Only problem was, he couldn't think straight right now, being too confused, upset and frustrated to think straight. Plus, he was hungover. He needed a bit of booze to jumpstart his nerves. He had a plan. Only, he needed to think through it more. But not right now. Not until after he had had a few sips of something alcoholic.
"You guys mean to tell me you don't even know what the guy you're looking for looks like?"
"He looks like Mothusi."
"Who is Mothusi?"
"The guy we just tried to get. Him." He pointed. Mothusi had opened the door and was now standing in the doorway, gawking like everybody.
"So you know him?"
"Who?"
"That guy over there."
"Yes. Long story. Let's go."
"Sure. Tell Dumani to hurry up then."
"Leave him."
Eric looked at Thabang like he'd just told him he was pregnant.
"How can we leave him?"
"I'll explain. Let's go."
Eric eased into gear and joined the road leading back to the city centre.
Something was not right, Eric thought. He had known something was not right the minute Thabang had pissed himself, but not to the extent he was just realising now. Things were deeper than he had thought. People don’t just piss on themselves for no reason. He had got himself involved in deeper problems than he could ever imagine. There were several possibilities. This could be a setup. Thabang sends him an SMS convincing him to use his van. Meanwhile the Police are watching, the Police being Thabang and Dumani. Undercover cops, testing Eric to see if he was open to crime. They get him and his van involved in as much crime as was possible then come out of their cloak and arrest him.
But when Eric came to think more deeply of this possibility, it seemed highly unlikely.
These two guys were genuinely too dumb to be undercover cops. Eric didn't expect an undercover cop could piss himself.
Or could be that Thabang and Dumani genuinely didn't know what the guy they were looking for looked like. They were dumb enough for that to be a possibility. Or could be that they knew and, now that they knew where he lived, decided to act like it wasn't him, decide to call off the deal, then come back and finish it off at a later stage. This was the most likely possibility. Eric had a plan though. A fool proof one.
Dumani was just explaining to the three town ladies that he worked for the Directorate of Intelligence and Security (DIS) when the van left.
"Hey!" he shouted after the disappearing van while running after it at the same time. His first thought was that Thabang and Eric were playing a practical joke on him, but he realised things were more serious than that when the van indicated left and turned. He slowed down. The short trot had left him breathless. The three ladies he had just been telling he was an undercover cop were smiling at him. The problem was, he didn't want to see them anymore. He had earlier on. He had intended to take their numbers then contact them as soon as he was rich.
"Why are they leaving you?" asked the lady in pink.
Dumani, breathless as he was, managed to say, "They'll be back. They've just been called to another emergency.”
"So what has this other guy done?"
"Top secret. I can’t release that information."
His breath was coming back. He straightened his back and thought.
He was thinking that he could make use of Mothusi, talk to him a little — talk a little bit of sense into him, you know — find out what he was really up to, how much he knew, confirm whether Damon had hired him, too, and perhaps knock him around a little if it came to that.
"I've to finish up some Police business, ladies," he said and walked away, leaving the three ladies gossiping in hushed tones. Fuck them, he was sure he’d do better than them as soon as the deal was over.
Mothusi closed the door as soon
as he realised the big ugly guy called Dumani was making his way towards the house in which Mothusi was. The house belonged to Boxer, or one of his relatives and had given the keys to Mothusi so he could stay there for a little while.
Mothusi still had mementos of the ugly bastard's brutality. How the hell did they know where he lived? Something was not right here. Could Boxer have betrayed him? But why? Could Boxer be suspecting that he, Mothusi, was actually the guy that he, Mothusi, claimed to be looking for? But how would Boxer know Dumani and Thabang? Why had they tried to assault him and then left him alone? Could it be that they were afraid to assault — or even recapture him — in front of witnesses? Maybe the ugly guy was coming back to finish him off now that there were not many witnesses around? But why did the other two suddenly leave him behind?
Then it hit him like a hammer: the stolen van. He stole their van, didn't he? That's why they had come for him. Fate had led them here, just like it always led him everywhere. But how could they've known that he had stolen the van? Could it be that they knew the guy who had assaulted him earlier, claiming the van belonged to him? That young man at the bus terminus had told Mothusi that the guy who claimed the van belonged to him was part of a notorious syndicate that specialised in stealing cars. Could Dumani, Thabang and the third guy be part of the syndicate?
There was a knock on the door. Mothusi wasn't going to open it. But then this guy was a villain. He would break in if Mothusi didn't open the door. Should he call the Police? But the Police may ask him too many questions. Like, what was he doing here? How did he get here? And at one point he'd panic and inadvertently tell the truth, which he didn't want to do. Not until...
There was another knock. Only this time it was on the window.
"DIS! Open the door," the ugly guy said.
Shit! DIS! Was this a setup? Had Damon set him up? No way. He couldn't have. People don't let you actually kill someone if they're setting you up. They would lead you to it, but stop you before you actually do it. But…DIS? How could this guy be a DIS officer if he...
"I give you one more chance and then I'll be busting in here and things will turn ugly," Dumani said.
Trembling, Mothusi walked to the door and stood there undecided. But what choice had he? It seemed fate had got him into more trouble than he had anticipated. He turned the key. No sooner had he thrown the door ajar than Dumani came in and closed the door behind him.
"Who do you work for?" he asked.
Mothusi looked at him blankly. A DIS officer. Mothusi couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe the trouble fate led him into.
"I...I...you've the wrong guy."
"Not this time."
Should he play along? Claim he was...
Mothusi let off a faux smile and, as calmly as he could under the circumstances, said, "Look man. I'm an undercover cop."
The look on Dumani's face changed. He actually backed off towards the door, seemingly ready to run away and said, "Are you serious?"
"Didn't Damon tell you?"
"No."
He shook his head pitifully and said, “I thought he would have.”
Dumani was now at the door. Realising he was winning, Mothusi gathered more steam and walked towards Dumani. "So you're not DIS?"
"Of course I am. So tell me what you know."
"No, tell me what you know. I know bits and pieces that Damon told me, but now..."
"You're lying. You're not a cop. If you were one, you'd have arrested me the day I captured you. Tell me the truth or else I chop off your toes," Dumani said. Mothusi wondered what gave his lie away. He had been just about to win, Dumani had been just about to walk out the door and leave him alone, and now this.
"I work for Damon."
"Who did he send you to abduct?"
"No one."
"So what were you doing at the hospital?"
"I already told you."
"Stop lying to me. I get angry easily. And you've seen what I can do when I'm angry."
"Look, man, let's talk about this like adults, okay? Let's go sit down."
Mothusi went to sit on a worn-out sofa in the sitting room. Dumani sat on a creaky chair.
"You know how these things are. We are not supposed to tell other people the details, or things won't work.”
"But you're going to have to tell me if you're planning on living longer."
"Okay, but this is between us. If Damon finds out I told you, you know as much as I do what may happen not only to me but to you as well."
Dumani nodded.
"That woman you guys had in the van, I killed her."
"You killed a human being?"
"Yes, for Damon. I thought he had sent you to murder someone too?"
Dumani shook his head then said, "We don’t murder people. So why did he want you to kill someone?"
"He wanted brain matter.”
"So who are you supposed to collect the brain from?"
"I already did. From that woman I killed. While you guys had me stuck in the back of the van, I scooped out a decent amount. But a problem developed."
"What problem?"
"Somebody saw me kill the woman. But I wasn't supposed to be seen. Now Damon has given me a week to find the guy who saw me and finish him up, or else things won't work."
"And who is the guy?"
"I don't know his name."
"What does he look like?"
"Same size as me, but wider shoulders."
"And where is he?"
"I don't know. That's why I'm here. I heard he came this way."
“What was he dressed like the day he saw you?”
“Black pants, a blue shirt and brown boots, if I remember well.”
The bastard smiled wryly.
“It sounds like we’re looking for the same guy. Let’s go, and I’ll tell you my story.”
"Where are we going?" asked Eric.
"To the hospital," Thabang said.
"But why are you leaving your friend behind?" "He is not my friend. Not anymore anyway." "How come?"
"He is a betrayer. He betrayed me big time. He is
working with somebody else. But I, with your help, will beat him to his own game."
"How?"
"We capture this guy and deliver him to Damon."
"Do you think that's going to be possible?"
"I'll make sure it's possible."
Traffic was building up and Eric was starting to feel hungrier by the minute. He was trying to process this whole thing. He didn't see any reason why he should trust Thabang. This had been planned. Thabang making Eric think he was ditching his friend like this, was part of the plan. But then Thabang had just said they were going back to the hospital? Could be nothing but a smokescreen.
"How are you going to make it possible?"
“You’ll see. Just go and park where we were waiting earlier on.”
Eric decided not to argue. If he was going to have to deal with just Thabang, then he was fine with it. Thabang was dumb enough to outwit. He just had to wait and see how things went.
I
waited in the corridors impatiently. I was constantly looking around. My picture could already be in the papers.
"Can I help you?” a female voice said from behind me. I startled and turned. It was an elderly nurse.
“Yes. I mean, no. I’m waiting for my mother. Do you think she’ll be alright?”
“What is she having done?”
“She was over there in Room 5 at the Female Medical Ward and she stopped breathing. They just took her away to ICU wearing a mask.”
“It depends. You may want to go to the waiting room.”
“Where is…”
“In fact, come with me. I’ll take you to ICU and see if they’ll allow you to stay with her. They may not.”
I followed the nurse down the corridor.
When we got to ICU the nurse had a quick chat with someone then came back to tell me I had to wait a few minutes. I fidgeted as I waited. I tried ringing my father ag
ain, but his phone was off. I wondered if he knew what had happened. I wondered if he too had been kidnapped. That could be the only reason why I couldn’t reach her on the phone.
On the other hand, he may be safe somewhere, knowing that his wife was in hospital and not giving a shit. The last time my mother got admitted he visited her every visiting hour. That was ten years ago.
He’d arranged for her to be taken to hospital, in fact. These days he seemed not to care. Only a month or so ago my mother fell very ill and I had to go and stay with her because my father had to attend to the farm.
I rung Modiri and he answered just to tell me he would call back, didn’t even wait to hear what I had to say. Then I remembered that I had my caller ID hidden. Some people simply don’t take calls from unknown numbers. I went to settings and switched on SHOW CALLER ID, and called him again. As soon as he answered, I said quickly, “I’m still here at the hospital. My…”
“How is she?” He sounded nervous. Maybe his boss was nearby. Some bosses are just too strict and don’t like employees taking calls.
“She is critical.”
“Are you with her now?”
“No. She had a cardiac arrest.”
“I may pass by. Is she at the Female Medical Ward?”
“No. She is in ICU.”
“Okay, I got to go. I’ll see if I can make it there. Be careful.”
He hung up hurriedly. Probably the boss was back.
Be careful.
I was going to be careful of course. But then how could I be careful in such a situation? At least I only had to worry about the Police, if I had already been falsely reported. As for those that were after my life finding me, the chances were slim. I was sure there was no familiar face on the bus that I came in, so no one should know that I was in Lentsweng.
I rang my father again and got the voicemail. I left a message, explaining in harried tones that mother was in ICU. Just as I finished recording the message a young nurse came out and told me I could come in.
I had never been to ICU before but it looked quite high-tech. They had my mother wired to several of those machines you see on TV. The mask was still on. At least it looked like she was breathing, though with difficulty. I stood by her bedside and massaged her arm. At least she was alive.
The Other Four Page 15