Trackers

by Deon Meyer

  And later, to her discomfort, she heard a man and woman's intimacy. She heard them go quiet after midnight. And then the subtle sounds began to tell a story of physical contact and caresses, until the woman, the mystical Miss Jenny, gave utterance to her intense pleasure, in breath and voice, the sounds from her throat.

  The operator found little eroticism in that. Because tomorrow, when Quinn listened to it, he would know that she had heard it too.

  8 October 2009. Thursday.

  When the American team walked in, there were four of them.

  Mentz was surprised, as she knew only two of them. 'My, my, how you've grown,' she said.

  'Janina, how are you? Tau, good to see you again. I'd like to introduce two of my colleagues,' said Bruno Burzynski, the Bureau Chief of the CIA in Southern Africa, big, athletic and bald. 'This is Janet Eden, and this is Jim Grant. And you already know Mark.'

  When the greetings were over and they were seated around the table, she said to Burzynski, 'And what is it that your colleagues do, Bruno?'

  'Agricultural secretaries, of course.'

  She smiled. 'On behalf of the Minister, thank you for coming at such short notice. He sends his regards.'

  'It's always a pleasure. Tell him we said "hi".'

  'Anybody for coffee? Tea? Water?'

  'We're good, thank you.'

  'Please help yourself to the refreshments behind you if you change your mind ... Now, if I may, let's get right down to business. As you probably know, our government submitted a SOLAS Chapter Five request internationally yesterday, for a fishing vessel. The matter at hand concerns this ship, a stern trawler,' and she clicked the remote to activate Powerpoint on the big screen. 'The Vessel Identifier is ERA112, and it's registered under the Namibian flag, the name on the bow is The Madeleine. It was sold by a Walvis Bay company about three weeks ago. Unfortunately, a preliminary SOLAS report indicates that it is not running LRIT and AIS, which makes it very difficult to find. And we need to find it as a matter of great urgency. That is why the Minister suggested that we ask our good friends, the United States Government, for assistance in this matter. He and the President would appreciate it very much.'

  'It would be an honour to help, if we can, of course. May I ask who the new ship owners are?'

  She had expected the question. 'A rather unsavoury group of people who are intent on undermining our national security.'

  'I see,' he said, once he realised she was not going to add anything more. 'And what sort of assistance did the Minister have in mind?'

  'The Minister has great respect and admiration for the vast array of technological wizardry at the disposal of the United States Government, particularly the ability of BASIC, the Broad Area Surveillance Intelligence Capacity.'

  'The Minister is well-informed.'

  'He prides himself on it. And he was wondering whether the United States would be willing to help protect our budding young democracy, by making these facilities available to us. To find the ship, of course.'

  Burzynski nodded slowly, as though he were first thinking it over. 'Janina, as you know, The US Government, and particularly the CIA, is dedicated to maintaining and strengthening the friendship with our much valued allies in South Africa. And if we can help in any way, we will most definitely do our very best, as always. But you do understand the costs involved, in terms of both manpower and resources, should we agree to a satellite search? Especially if they are not running LRIT. The ship has been missing for weeks, and there is time pressure.'

  'Please educate me.'

  'It becomes a world-wide search, Janina. They could be anywhere. The logistics are huge.'

  'I understand ...'

  'I'm not saying we can't help. But in order to ... shall we say, motivate my superiors, I'm going to need ammunition.'

  'Of course you are. That's why the Minister has prepared this letter ...' She pushed it across the table to Burzynski. 'You will see that he refers to the case as a matter of both national and international security, and of the utmost urgency.'

  'And?'

  'And he expresses his most heartfelt gratitude.'

  'So noted. But with all due respect, Janina, we are going to need more than that.'

  'Such as?'

  'The nature and scale of the threat. Especially concerning the international implications.'

  'Unfortunately, we are not in a position to give you much more at this time. But if you can help us find the vessel, and we unearth any intelligence the CIA might be interested in, I give you my word that we will pass it along.'

  'Janina, that's not going to cut it.'

  'That is a real pity. I would have thought it the ideal opportunity for the CIA to ... regain our trust.'

  'I'm not following you.'

  'I'm sure you do, but it's not all that important right now. May I ask you to take the request, as it stands, to Langley?'

  'Are there trust issues I'm not aware of, Janina?'

  'I honestly don't know what you are aware of, Bruno. Will you forward our request?'

  'Of course, I'll do my very best.'

  'Thank you very much.'

  61

  There was a gap between Milla and reality, a soft cushion, a light mist.

  Her body could still feel him, she could still smell and taste him. His words, his stories still swirled in her head.

  Oom Theunie stood beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. 'Is everything OK?'

  She reacted slowly, looked up, smiled. 'Oh, yes.' 'You seem a bit absent this morning.' 'I'm fine.'

  And she thought, so this is what it feels like to be in love. At forty.

  'We lost Becker,' the operator said.

  'How?' asked Quinn. He kept the disappointment out of his voice. 'At the airport. He took the Toyota back to Tempest Car Hire. Then he went to the departures hall. We didn't expect that, by the time we got there he was gone ...' 'How long ago?'

  'Five ... six minutes. The check-in queues are long, he wasn't in one of them. I don't believe he took a flight. I think he left the building somewhere.'

  'That means he saw you.' 'Sir, that's impossible ...' 'Keep looking. I'll get back to you.'

  Quinn cursed, stood up and jogged over to Rajkumar's team. He wanted to know if Becker had bought a plane ticket, and why they didn't know about it.

  'Jissis, Quinn,' said Masilo.

  Quinn knew under how much pressure his boss was operating. He kept his voice calm. 'We'll find him.'

  'You will, indeed. I am not going to walk into that woman's office and tell her we don't know where he is.'

  'We will get him, because we have a point of reference,' he said quietly.

  'What?'

  'Miss Jenny. He spent the night with her. We will wait for him there.' 'I'm not so sure.'

  Burzynski phoned her just after lunch. 'Janina, I'm assuming the line on your side is secure as well?' 'It is.'

  'Good. I've just had a lengthy video conference with Langley, and I have some really great news. We are going to help you find the ship.' 'Bruno, that is great news. I am deeply in your debt.' 'No, Janina, please. In matters of friendship, debt is irrelevant.'

  In Masilo's office, Janina Mentz was surprised that the Advocate didn't respond happily to the CIA news. 'That confirms it all,' she said.

  'I had my doubts about Becker and the CIA,' he said. 'But you were right. They warned him. That we know. He shook off our team, this afternoon. He's disappeared.' 'Christ, Tau ...' She sat down.

  He lifted his hands in justification. 'In retrospect it was to be expected. But Quinn says it is temporary He will make contact with Miss Jenny again.' 'I doubt it.'

  'So do I. But there are questions, ma'am, things I don't understand. Why was the CIA interested in Shabangu? Why would they want to eliminate him?'

  'I don't think it was an elimination,' said Mentz. 'Look how it happened. In his bedroom. Why go to all that trouble if you could shoot him on the street? Or put a bomb in his BMW?' 'Valid point.'

  'I
think it was a negotiation that went wrong. Or an interrogation.' Masilo pondered that. 'We will find out.'

  'If he contacts Miss Jenny ... don't let Becker out of your sight.'

  Becker phoned Milla as she drove her Renault back to the flat. 'When last did you climb Lion's Head?'

  She had been looking forward to this moment all day, the joy inside her was instant. 'Never.'

  'It's full moon, and I have a bottle of champagne.'

  'I'll buy some food at Melissa's.'

  'Perfect. Not too much, we will have to carry it. See you in an hour.'

  Milla stopped in front of the apartment building, cellphone in her hand, and only then did she think how there had been something in his tone, in the voice she had listened so carefully to for the last three evenings and now knew so well. A discordant note, subtly different. As though he were straining for enthusiasm, but just not quite making it.

  Was she imagining it? Was it just that the signal was weak?

  She looked at the phone in her hand, noticed for the first time that it was not the usual number, the one that she had saved with such a sense of significance in her contacts under 'Lukas'.

  'He's using another cellphone and SIM card,' the surveillance operator said to Quinn. But we've got it now.'

  'Do you have his position?'

  'We do. Milnerton. Marine Drive, he's mobile, but the cellphone is off now. We will keep scanning.'

  Quinn looked up at the TV screens in the Ops Room. The video feed showed the outside of Milla's apartment block - the camera was mounted on the roof of the apartment building across the road. He had three teams in cars nearby. 'Did you hear that?' he asked them. 'He's on his way.'

  'We heard. We're standing by.'

  At 18.17 the taxi stopped in front of Daven Court. A man got out.

  'It's him,' said Quinn.

  'He's taking a taxi now?' the female operator beside him asked.

  'Get the number of the taxi. I want to know where he was picked up.'

  Quinn stared fixedly at the image. 'And take note that he has only a rucksack with him.'

  'Sir?'

  'He checked out of the guest house this morning. Where's his luggage?'

  It was a moment before she registered. 'He's not moving in with Miss Jenny. He's found somewhere else to stay.'

  'Precisely,' said Quinn.

  When he came in, he embraced and kissed her, the Lukas of last night, all the warmth there.

  It was just the phone, she thought.

  They busied themselves in the kitchen, packing the rucksack. 'I'm temporarily without transport, would you mind if we took your car?'

  'Not at all.'

  On the way to Lion's Head she realised he was quieter than usual, though he held her hand. She asked him: 'How was your day?'

  'It was busy,' he said.

  He was tired, she realised. Of course he was tired, they hadn't had much sleep, he must have had a difficult day, she didn't even know what it was that kept him busy.

  Relief. She squeezed his hand and said, 'If you would prefer to relax, we don't have to climb the mountain.'

  He laughed, full of tenderness and gratitude. 'It wasn't that busy, thanks.'

  'They have parked. They are going to walk up the mountain. What shall we do?' the operator asked.

  Quinn considered the risks. 'Stay with the car, let's not take chances.'

  'OK,' said the operator, thankful.

  It was the third night that Becker had taken her somewhere public, out in the open, thought Quinn. Was he avoiding the flat? Did he suspect anything, that it might be tapped?

  They leaned against each other on a rock, each holding a glass of champagne, the food laid out in front of them. The moon was a silver coin above, Sea Point and Green Point spread out in front of them, the city to the right, the N1 a worm of light creeping to the dark Hottentots Holland mountains. There were other people with them on the crest, small groups that, like them, spoke in muted tones.

  He told her about the article in Die Burger, that morning, about the British scientist who believed that mankind had reached the end of the evolutionary road, because there was no more real natural selection. He said it was an interesting point of view, but not one he fully agreed with.

  Then he stopped talking and she wanted to ask him about his day, what he had done, but he shifted away from her and said, 'Milla, there is something I need to tell you.'

  She saw how solemn he was. 'What?' and reached for her cigarettes.

  'I have to be careful how I say this, Milla, because I need to get it right. I owe you that.'

  'Just say it,' she said, suddenly worried about implications of the word 'owe'.

  He saw her discomfort and put out his hand to her, then let it drop as though he had changed his mind.

  'I went to draw money in Durbanville. I saw the sign for the dance school. It's been five years since I last danced. I went to enquire and they said there was a social, and I was welcome to come as a guest. And then I saw you. And I danced with you. When I sat down, I thought... I wanted to dance with you some more. So, on Monday, when I saw you, purely by chance ...'

  'Why didn't you?' She suddenly understood, he wanted to back off. Now. After he had slept with her. She couldn't keep the distaste out of her voice.

  'What do you mean?'

  'Why didn't you dance with me again on Friday?'

  'That's what I wanted to explain to you. My circumstances were not good ...'

  'Circumstances? What circumstances?' She felt anger now at his betrayal, his lame excuse.

  He weighed his words. 'I see you misunderstand me. I don't want to stop seeing you. I can't stop seeing you. It's the timing, Milla ... It's because of these people that owe me money. It would be better if I didn't see you for the next few days, and I want you to understand why. I don't want to expose you to any danger.'

  'It would be better ...? What danger?'

  'Can I tell you the story, from the beginning?'

  She looked at him, then at the pack of cigarettes she was still holding in her hand. She took one out, lit it, drew deeply and exhaled slowly. 'Tell me,' she said.

  'Will you bear with me until I'm finished?'

  She nodded.

  He put down his glass of champagne. 'Over the past few years, I tried to spread my investments, not to have all the eggs in one basket. One of my investments was with Northern Rock, the British bank that landed in trouble with the credit crunch last year. When that happened ... I took a flight to London, and I withdrew the full amount, because I wanted to wait and see. So I had all this cash, and in Iraq ... all I could do was lock it away. Until I landed here three weeks ago. With the money in my rucksack. That was my first mistake. Then I made another one. In Johannesburg. I hired an expensive car at Oliver Tambo Airport. I didn't plan to, it was a spur of the moment thing, they offered me an upgrade and the roads of the Free State lay ahead. So I took a Mercedes SL and drove to Sandton to find a hotel, to get some sleep. I was hijacked. Four guys with guns, there was nothing I could do. The money was in my rucksack, in the back. I asked them if I could take my baggage out...'

  'So they stole the money?' The question burst out involuntarily, she saw him smile at the interruption. 'Sorry,' she said.

  'Yes. They stole the money. Forty thousand pounds sterling. Half a million rand.'

  Milla caught her breath, she suppressed her words with difficulty.

  'It was an interesting experience,' he said, 'to see them drive away. I ran after them, for a few hundred metres ...'

  Milla looked at him, in wonderment now. Her heart had slowed down a bit.

  'In any case, I reported the hijacking, waited a day or two ... No, let me backtrack a bit first, please be patient, this part is important... for us. I want to explain to you why I have to do certain things. It comes partly from my childhood, from my mother's illness, my father's helplessness, neither one of them had control, Milla, circumstances overwhelmed them. I remember how I experienced a sort of revel
ation at fifteen, that I didn't want to live like that. That I could only truly rely on myself, with the ... absence of both of them. At university I read Voltaire, where he said you can't choose the cards life deals you. But it is your choice how you play them. If you want to win. I made up my mind then, Milla. To decide my own fate ...'

  She nodded, because she understood.

  'When they stole the money ... I realised the police in Sandton were dealing with two or three hijackings a day, they don't have enough manpower, too much other crime ... and even if they caught the men, there was little chance of getting the money back. I had to have the money to pay for the farm, otherwise the sale would fall through. So I decided I would have to get the money back myself. The first problem was to track down the hijacker. One of them had a serious eye defect, a white discolouration of the cornea. I knew if I described him to the right people ... It took a few days, I asked around, I paid people for information, until I found him. And then, another day before he told me who he worked for. And then I began negotiating with the boss, Julius Shabangu ...'

  It was the name that shocked Milla, because she knew it.

  '... and the trail of my money led me to Cape Town, that is why I am here. The trouble is these are difficult people, syndicates and organised crime in Johannesburg, and PAGAD here in the Cape, I suspect. Yesterday ... I think someone is following me. That's why I want to get this thing sorted first. But I promise you, when I'm finished, I will come back ...'

  'Wait,' she said. 'Tell the police. Now that you know who has your money.'

  'Shabangu is dead, Milla. He was shot last week in his house. If I go and tell the police that it was he that.. .You do understand?'

  62

  The realisation of her own dishonesty dawned slowly on Milla, a dark stream flowing through her, pressure building up; she must tell him that she knew about Shabangu, PAGAD, organised crime, and more - of the PIA profile on him that she now began to vaguely understand.