The Colour of Gold

by Oliver T Spedding

"Please understand that I'm not making any kind of deal with you or promising you anything." Botha said. "I don't have the authority to do something like that, but at your trial, and believe me there will be a trial, the judge is very likely to be influenced by the fact that you helped us to destroy our enemies. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  "Yes, I understand." Bogdan whispered.

  "Excellent!" Captain Botha said. "I think that you can now go back to your cell and have a rest. We'll have another chat a little later."

  ***

  "Good work, Captain Botha." Brigadier van Tonder said. "Now we're beginning to make real progress."

  The two men sat in the Brigadier's office. It was the afternoon of the day that Tiaan had interrogated Bogdan Vodnik. With his forefinger the Brigadier tapped the report that Tiaan had giver him as it lay on the desktop.

  "So they've got enough material to make eight bombs." he said. "Do you think that one of them was used in the bombing of the Germiston Magistrates Courts?"

  "I'm sure of it." Tiaan replied. "And, from the size of the explosion, I would say that they used only one of the pipes. If they continue to use one pipe at a time they won't cause much physical damage but they will cause a great deal of psychological damage and adverse publicity for us. That's what worries me."

  "Exactly." the Brigadier said. "So, what we need to decide is whether we should pick that bastard Zuma up now or wait until we can catch the people at the top who are orchestrating the whole operation. If we arrest Zuma now, all we'll achieve is taking out a small cog in the wheel but if we wait, he might lead us to the people at the top. Keep working on this Vodnik fellow though. He's an important link in the chain. Perhaps we can even get him to work for us."

  "I suggested that to him, sir." Tiaan said. "He didn't turn it down nor did he agree. I'll work on him again. I just don't know how much we can trust him."

  ***

  "Okay, Mister Vodnik." Captain Tiaan Botha said as Bogdan shuffled unsteadily across the interrogation room and stopped in front of his desk. "I trust that you had a good night's rest and that you've given some thought to my proposal that I put to you here yesterday."

  "Yes, despite having to sleep on the cold concrete floor with the lights on all night, I slept quite well." Bogdan replied.

  The Captain shrugged his shoulders and smiled up at Bogdan.

  "This isn't the Carlton Hotel, Mister Vodnik." he said. "In case you didn't know, we're fighting a war here, so your personal discomfort is of little importance to me. What have you decided regarding my suggestion that you work with us against our enemies?"

  Bogdan rubbed the thick stubble in his cheeks and chin and looked down at the floor in front of him.

  "I've really got no option but to work with you." he said. "And even though this is not my country and I believe that the war you claim to be fighting isn't in defence of your country but, in fact, the defence of your hated ideology, I accept that my actions are an act of treason and that I must try to lessen the consequences."

  "Very eloquently put, Mister Vodnik." the Captain said. "But let me put you in the picture. The enemy that we're fighting supports the communist doctrine being spread by the communist countries of Russia, China and Cuba. These countries are determined to take over South Africa and from here they will spread their evil ideology to the rest of Africa. The people of my country will become the slaves of the communists, both the black ones and the white ones. This war's got nothing to do with our ideology. It's about our survival. Without the white people this country would collapse and easily be taken over by the communists. The blacks cannot survive without us whites. However, I didn't bring you here to discuss politics with you. As you've agreed to work with us against our enemies I'll now arrange for you to be returned to your apartment in Hillbrow. It's very important though, that you keep our arrangement to yourself. We're playing a deadly game and now you're part of it. You will report to me at least once a week and I'll give you details about how to do that later. You may go."

  Bogdan trudged out of the room, closely followed by two uniformed policemen. They directed him to the underground car park and put him in the back seat of an unmarked white Ford sedan. The drove out of John Vorster Square and into the busy downtown traffic. They entered the suburb of Hillbrow and stopped outside the Grande Mansions apartment building. Bogdan climbed stiffly out of the vehicle and the policeman in the passenger's seat handed him the keys to his apartment before the car drove away.

  As Bogdan walked unsteadily into the entrance foyer of the building, Mister Cohen, the building's caretaker stopped him. "You can't come in here!" he shouted looking at Bogdan's rumpled, dirty clothes, the week-old stubble on his cheeks and chin and his unkempt hair. "You bloody tramps can't come into this building! Get out of here before I call the police!"

  "Slow down, Mister Cohen." Bogdan said holding up his hand. "I'm Bogdan Vodnik and I'm renting apartment number five."

  The caretaker looked more closely at Bogdan.

  "Oh! I am sorry, Mister Vodnik." he said. "I didn't recognise you there for a minute. You don't look well. Are you okay?"

  "Yes, thank you." Bogdan said. "I'm fine; just very tired."

  Bogdan walked up the stairs very slowly, his whole body drained of energy. He reached his apartment, unlocked the door and walked in. he closed the door and locked it and staggered to the bedroom. He collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep."

  CHAPTER 11

  Catherine Nyaga lay in her bed in her little shack in Soweto. In the silence she could hear the steady ticking of the large red alarm clock on the small table near her head. She glanced at the luminous face. It was ten past three in the morning. Why was it, she wondered, that time seemed to go by so much slower when you couldn't sleep? She had gone to bed earlier than usual once she realised that Isaiah wasn't coming to visit her. She touched her face carefully with he fingers, feeling her still swollen nose and cheeks where Bogdan had punched her and kicked her. Her jaw ached constantly from the cracked jawbone that she couldn't afford to have attended to. Since the attack she had only been able to eat porridge and milk. Why had he attacked her? she wondered. The three photographs obviously had something to do with it but where had they come from and what did they mean? What had she done to make him so furious? Why had he attacked her and not explained his actions to her? He had always been so kind and loving towards her in the past. And now she was too scared to go to the apartment in Hillbrow or to work at his house on the mine.

  As she lay staring up into the darkness above her she frowned as she heard the sound of a car driving slowly along the street outside. Cars very seldom drove around in Soweto at night. She heard the vehicle slow and come to a stop in the street opposite the house where her shack was situated. The engine stopped and she heard heavy footsteps crunch across the hard gravel in the street. The footsteps came closer.

  Catherine sat up in her bed and pushed aside the curtain covering the small window. She looked out towards the neighbour's house but before her eyes could adjust to the darkness the door of her shack door burst inwards and several men in camouflage uniforms and carrying powerful flashlights rushed into the room.

  "Are you Catherine Nyaga?" one of the white policemen shouted. "Show me your passbook!"

  Still stunned by the abrupt entry of the security police Catherine threw back the blanket that covered her and turned to face the intruders. As the harsh beams of the torches played on her she reached over to the little table next to her bed and picked up her identity document that all people of colour were forced to carry on their person at all times. The white officer grabbed the document and studied it in the light from his torch.

  "Okay!" he said. "It's her!"

  The man glared at Catherine.

  "Get dressed!" he shouted. "Hurry up! You're under arrest!"

  "What for?" Catherine asked, her voice shaking with fear.

  "For fucking with a white man!" the officer shouted. "For defying the Immorality Act!"

 
There were two white policemen and two blacks. In the light from the torches she could see them leering at her as she stood and began dressing, putting on a dress and low-heeled shoes.

  "Okay! Let's go!" the white officer said.

  The two black policemen grabbed Catherine by her arms and hustled her out of the shack. They marched her roughly across the uneven ground and when she tripped and began to fall they hauled her upright, hurting her arms with their rough grips. Her injured jaw ached and she felt faint. In the dim light Catherine saw a small yellow police van parked in the road. The white police officer opened the back door and the two black officers shoved Catherine into the back. She struck her shins painfully on the edge of the floor and fell facedown onto the steel flooring. She felt the men grab her legs and push her further into the back of the van. She felt the vehicle sag as the two black policemen climbed into the vehicle with her. She heard the door slam shut as she wriggled onto her back and sat up with her back against wall of the cab. The front of the small truck dipped as the two white officers climbed into the cab. The engine roared into life, its headlight flicked on and the vehicle drove off along the rough, rutted street.

  As Catherine sat in the back of the van she noticed the two black policemen leering at her legs. She looked down and saw that the skirt of her dress had ridden up almost to the top of her thighs when she had slid across the steel floor of the van. She tried to pull the material down to cover her thighs but in the confined space the material remained trapped between her body and the floor of the van. As she stared at the two black men she saw them look at each other, smile and nod their heads.

  Before she could react the two men moved closer to Catherine and grabbed her feet. They pulled her towards them until she lay on flat on her back. She felt them grab her panties and pull them down her legs. Her shoes fell off onto the steel floor. One of the men loomed over her, his face contorted with lust.

  "Open your legs, babe." the man said, his voice husky with desire. "We're going to fuck you so that you'll realise that black men fuck much better than white men do."

  Realising that it would be futile to resist Catherine resigned herself to being raped. She closed her eyes and endured the pain as the man forced himself into her. She cried out as his huge penis drove savagely into her. He moved rhythmically, faster and faster, and then with a grunt she felt his warm sperm burst inside her. He gasped and groaned as he lay on top of her.

  "Okay, it's my turn now." the other black policeman said. "Get off the fucking bitch and give me a chance! I show you how a Zulu fucks a woman!"

  Catherine felt the first man climb off her and within seconds the second man reared over her. She felt him enter her and begin thrusting before he too grunted and ejaculated. His foul breath hissed through his teeth and in the dim light from the truck's headlights she saw that his eyes were tightly closed. He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily, his foul breath sickening her so that she almost vomited.

  "Get off her." the first man said. "We're almost in the city. We don't want anyone to see what we've done."

  The man climbed off Catherine.

  "Put your panties back on and your shoes, babe." the first man said. "And if you say one word about this to anyone we'll hurt you so badly that you'll wish that you were dead. Remember, even when you're in prison we can always get to you."

  Catherine lay on the steel floor and pulled on her panties. She arched her back and managed to pull down the skirt of her dress to cover her thighs. She found her shoes and put them on. She lay on her back and stared at the street lights as they floated past in the darkness. She glanced at the two black policemen as they sat looking out of the canopy windows. She saw them frown.

  "Hey!" the first one said. "This isn't the way to the police station! We're in the Southern Suburbs! We're going away from the station! What's going on?"

  "It looks as if we're going to the buffer zone between Jo'burg and Soweto." the other man said. "You know what? I think the Lieutenant and the Sergeant want a little of what we've just had!"

  The two men grinned at each other and then stared out of the truck's windows.

  "I think you're right." the first man said. "Look. We're at the area now."

  As the truck slowed Catherine could see the silhouettes of a number of huge blue gum trees against the dark grey sky.

  "Those two whiteys have always like their chocolate." the first black man said. "I wonder if they saw us eating this chocolate and now they want some too."

  The other man giggled.

  "Why not?" the other man said. "She's a great fuck. Why shouldn't they have some as well?"

  The van came to a halt at the edge of the buffer zone and Catherine felt the front of the vehicle lift as the two white policemen climbed out of the cab. She heard them walk to the back door and open it. A torch flicked on shone into her eyes, the bright light causing her to blink rapidly.

  "Get out of the van, you black bitch." the white police officer said as he looked at the two black policemen. "We're taking her for a little walk. You guys can wait here."

  Catherine felt herself being dragged across the steel floor of the van, her skirt again riding up her thighs. She fell out of the van, striking her head painfully on the bumper.

  "Get up, kaffir!" the white police officer shouted.

  Catherine staggered to her feet. She felt the two white policemen grab her arms and guide her towards the forest. As the three walked away from the van the Lieutenant looked back over his shoulder at the two black policemen sitting in the back of the van.

  "You two stay in the van." he said. "Don't get out. If anyone comes here tell them that we've gone into the bush to have a shit."

  "Yes, Lieutenant." the two men answered in unison.

  Catherine stumbled across the uneven ground, tripping over the clumps of thick grass and small bushes. The huge blue gum trees loomed above her. Far in the distance she could hear the low roar of traffic on the main road between Soweto and Johannesburg. She felt the two police officers steer her towards a thick clump of bushes. When they reached them the men pushed Catherine to the ground.

  "Take off your panties!" the Lieutenant said as he undid his belt and began to unbutton the fly of his trousers. Catherine slid off her panties, realising that any resistance would be futile. These men were far stronger than she was and wouldn't hesitate to use violence to get their way with her. She lay on the rough ground and closed her eyes as the white officer loomed over her. She felt the man enter her roughly and begin moving rhythmically, his breath wheezing out of his open mouth. She heard his gasp and felt him shudder. She felt his warm sperm burst into her as he ejaculated deep inside her. He then collapsed on top her breathing heavily.

  "Okay, sir." the other policeman said, his voice thick with lust. "Let me have a chance too."

  The Lieutenant climbed off Catherine and the second man took his place, his fetid breath washing over her. Fortunately she didn't have to endure the man for long. No sooner had he entered her when she felt him shudder and spew his warm sperm into her. He stood up quickly, breathing heavily.

  "You don't waste time, do you, Sergeant." the Lieutenant said, laughing.

  "No sir." the Sergeant replied. "But I'm a little out of practice. I haven't had a fuck for over a month."

  "Okay, let's go." the Lieutenant said. He turned and looked down at Catherine.

  "Get up, you fucking black hoar!" he shouted. "Do you want us to fuck you again? Put your panties on and if you say a word about this to anyone we'll hurt you badly; maybe even kill you. And don't think that we can't. Lots of prisoners in detention die under mysterious circumstances. You won't be the first one or the last. Do you understand?"

  Catherine lurched to her feet, found her panties and pulled them on. She found her shoes and stepped into them. She straightened her dress and brushed some of the dirt off. The two policemen grabbed her arms and led her back to the waiting police van.

  "So, sir." one of the black policemen said as the three reac
hed the van. "Did you have a nice little "chat"?"

  "Yes, we did." the Lieutenant replied, smiling." But not a word to anyone, hey boys? And don't think we didn't hear and feel you two in the back of the van when we were driving here. The Sergeant had trouble keeping the van on the road!"

  The men laughed uproariously as the two black policemen pulled Catherine into the back of the van. The door slammed, the front of the van dipped as the two white officers climbed into the cab, the engine roared into life, the headlight flashed on and the small yellow vehicle drove away towards the police station in Johannesburg.

  ***

  "Any progress with regard to that fellow Vodnik and the kaffir Zuma?" Brigadier van Tonder asked as Tiaan Botha sat down in one of the visitor's chairs. "It's been some time since you reported on them.

  "There hasn't been much to report on, sir." Tiaan replied. "I've been monitoring the subversive activity throughout the country carefully and visiting all the sites where there have been bombings. I'm pretty sure that Zuma and his pals have used up seven of their bombs so far as I've managed to identify six bombings that are identical in character to the bombing at the Germiston Magistrates Court building. So, with only one bomb left I'm certain that Vodnik will be getting a call from Zuma in the near future."

  "Good work." the Brigadier said. "And when the call does come, what are you planning to do?"

  "I'm going to supply Vodnik with a batch of dud detonators." the Captain said. "I won't tell him that they're duds though. The less he knows about what we're doing, the better. That will put a stop to their bombing for a while and give us a chance to work on identifying Zuma's superiors. The problem is that Zuma's so difficult to follow. He loses my guys time and time again. He'll be walking along a street in Soweto and out of the blue a car will stop next to him, he'll climb in, and before my guys can do anything, he's gone. And, obviously, none of the cars have proper registration. Can you arrange some backup for me, sir?"

  "What do you need?" van Tonder asked.

  "Essentially, sir, I need two cars to follow Zuma. One behind him and one in front so that when he's picked up we can stay with him." Tiaan said. "Then I also need the services of a helicopter. Is that possible?"