“It is Sipho,” Imogen said from beside her.
“No, it’s not. Sipho’s got—he’s not—he’s…” Amahle stared at the body on the ground, and slowly, the swollen and indistinct features began to swim into focus. The scrapes on his knuckles, the ones she’d seen at the hospital, were almost healed, but every other wound was bleeding freely or seeping blood slowly onto the concrete. The flesh around part of his ankle looked charred, as did his fingertips. A long, thin cut along his cheek ran from the corner of his mouth up to his ear.
“It is him,” Imogen said.
Josh nodded and continued to scan the area. The knowledge didn’t change his actions or his demeanour at all. He just stood there, looking up and down the street.
“Why aren’t you helping him?” Amahle shouted. “Why are you just standing there? Help him.”
Imogen wrapped her arms around Amahle’s shoulders and spoke quietly into her ear. “He’s doing his job, sweetheart. Laura and Greg are helping Sipho.”
Amahle tried to shake her off. She wanted to push Josh. She wanted to grab his arm and drag him to Sipho’s prone body, to make him do something.
“They don’t need Josh getting in the way. They’re doing everything that can be done for him. Josh’s doing the best thing he can right now. He’s making sure they’re safe to help Sipho, and that you’re protected while you’re out here.” She turned Amahle’s face until she had no choice but to look at her. “He’s going to be okay. Trust them. They’re an amazing group of people, and they know what they’re doing here. Let them do it.”
Amahle wanted to get away from her. She wanted to kneel by Sipho and tell him it would be all right, just as she had when they were younger. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry they’d hurt him because of her. She wanted to take all the pain he had suffered and feel it herself, suffer it herself, to save him from it. But she couldn’t. She felt impotent. Just as she had when she had lain on the floor of her home and watched as Grace had been ravaged.
The paramedics arrived and were quickly into action. She could see the movement but couldn’t make out any individual moves. She knew she was helped into a vehicle, and she knew she was led down a corridor to a hospital room. She knew she was surrounded by people, but the only one she could see was Imogen. Imogen holding her hand and telling her that she’d be okay, that Sipho would be okay. She wasn’t sure how long she sat listening to Imogen’s voice, no longer hearing her words, just her voice. The low tones, slightly husky with emotion, and filled with caring as she glanced over frequently.
All Amahle looked at was her hand. Their fingers entwined. Black and white. She’d always found the contrast so striking when they were little. Nothing more than that. Just another beautiful thing about her friend, her golden hair and skin that turned pink when they played on the vineyard for too long. She spread her fingers and slid their palms together before turning Imogen’s hand over in hers. She needed to know every millimetre, every line and crack on her skin, every hair and follicle, every vein that pulsed with life just under the skin.
“What do you think, Ami?” Imogen said, her question dragging Amahle from her trance.
Amahle shook herself as she surfaced and took a breath for what felt like the first time since she’d seen Sipho lying on the ground.
“About what?” She frowned when she noticed who Imogen was talking to. “When did you get here?”
“I arrived at the house before the ambulance left, Amahle.” Julius stared at her. “Are you all right?”
She waved her hand. “I’ll be fine. What do I think about what?”
“Julius thinks we need to strike while we have the element of surprise on our side. Gather a press conference and present them with the results of our investigation now. Get the public on side,” Imogen said. “All he wants is an exclusive interview with you later in return. Isn’t that generous?”
“Very. What about the police? They need to investigate.”
“I know someone we can trust. He’s almost here. We can brief him while I get my cronies over here. We’ll do it outside here. I know you won’t want to go anywhere while we wait for news about your brother,” Julius said.
“Where is he?”
“Still in surgery.”
“In surgery? What do you mean?”
Imogen grasped her hands again. “Amahle, you signed the consent forms.”
She tried to remember, but it was all a blur. “What’s wrong with him?”
Imogen frowned. “Do you want to go somewhere else while I tell you?”
“No. Just tell me.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath, and Amahle readied herself for the details. “He has many injuries that they’ll have to deal with, cuts that will scar his face and so on, but they aren’t life threatening. There are two major issues for them. His right lower leg, they’re pretty sure they will have to amputate, but they don’t know if it will be at the ankle or mid calf.”
“Oh God.” Amahle put her hand over her mouth, remembering the bloody lump of meat.
“Are you okay?”
“There’s more?”
Imogen nodded solemnly. “Do you want me to stop?”
Amahle shuddered. If he could go through it, the least she was going to do was listen to what the bastards had done to him. “Go on.”
“The doctors are also trying to assess the damage to his penis and testicles. They aren’t certain, but they found wire wrapped around them and burn marks under the wire. They think he was electrocuted.”
“What do you mean assess the damage?”
“They’re doing all they can to save it.”
“Amputate his penis?”
“They hope not.”
“Jesus Christ.” She closed her eyes, and bile rose in her throat. She put her hand to her mouth.
“Bathroom’s here.” Imogen tugged her to her feet and pushed her the ten feet into the room. She held Amahle’s hair back while she bent over the bowl and threw up.
Imogen rubbed circles over her back. “You feeling better?”
“No.”
“I love that honest streak of yours.” Imogen held out a packet. “Here. Mint.”
“Thanks. Did they say how long it would take?”
“The surgery? They didn’t know. Lots of complex procedures going on. Lots of potential for things to go wrong.”
“But they think he’ll be okay, don’t they?”
“They didn’t make any promises, Ami. And they wouldn’t commit to anything with regard to what shape he’d be in if they could save his life.” She pulled Amahle into her embrace. “I know this probably scared the shit out of you again, but please, please don’t try to send me away again. I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want to have an argument with you here.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You weren’t?”
“No. You’re right. It has scared the shit out of me, but having you here with me helps. You help.” She twined her fingers with Imogen’s and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Shall we go back out there and see if there’s any news? The doctors did say that they’d keep us up to date when they could.”
“You’re just full of good ideas, aren’t you?”
“Come on.” Imogen wrapped her arm around Amahle’s shoulders and led her back to the waiting room. Julius stood as they approached him.
“Get on the phone, Julius. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it all the way.”
“If we do this there’s no turning back.”
“I know.”
“Any sign of Claudia?”
“None. Her house was empty and there’s no sign of her at the office. I’ve got Laura’s people looking into any potential minefields she’s planted on the evidentiary trail, but so far they haven’t found anything.”
“They haven’t exactly had long to look, Ami,” Imogen said.
“I know.” Amahle turned back to Julius. “Call your cop friend—”
“I already did
.” He pointed to the doors. “He just walked in.”
“Sergeant Solongo. That’s your contact?” Amahle asked.
“Sergeant? No. This is Lieutenant General Solongo.”
Amahle whirled around to look at the unassuming man walking toward them. “It looks like you have some explaining to do.”
“My apologies for the misinformation, Minister. I have been working undercover. I want to reestablish the anti-corruption unit, but I’ve been stonewalled at every turn. I decided to go undercover and bring irrefutable evidence to the government to force the issue.”
“I can certainly understand that thought process, Lieutenant General.”
“I’m very sorry to hear about your brother. Julius filled me in. I had a few leads back in Stellenbosch but nothing concrete. Just the link to a local thug by the name of Tsotsi, as I mentioned to you.”
“I remember. The good news is I have a lot more for you. And it will do your case for a new anti-corruption unit no harm at all.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I’ll just go see if they have somewhere a bit more private for this,” Imogen said. “It’s going to take a while.” She wandered over to the nurses’ station.
“One of those stories, is it?” Solongo asked.
“More than you can possibly imagine.” Amahle ran her hand through her hair. “How much do you know about the HIV treatment programme?”
“More than I wish I did. My brother and his wife have HIV. They have two children who were born with this despicable virus.”
Amahle reached out and gently touched his arm. “I’m so sorry, Lieutenant General.”
“Please, call me Dingane.”
“Dingane, what I have to tell you will directly impact your family. And for that I am very sorry. We’ve worked as quickly as possible.”
“I’m sure you’ve done all you can.”
“There’s a family waiting room we can use over there.” Imogen returned and pointed a little way down the hall. “The nurse said she’d find us in there if there was any news on Sipho.”
They followed Imogen to the small room and took seats on the uncomfortable plastic chairs. The bright colours hurt Amahle’s eyes under the harsh fluorescent lights, but she pushed her discomfort aside. It was nothing compared to the pain and suffering of so many others. There was a jug of water and some plastic cups on a table. Imogen poured them all glasses and indicated for Amahle to start the story. It took almost an hour for her to cover every detail, and when she finished, Dingane whistled.
“That’s one hell of a story. I take it you have proof?”
“The proof is right here in this hospital. There are evidence stores where rape kits and so on are kept. All Dr. Marais’s samples are in there. It’s in the pills your brother and his family are being prescribed, I have no doubt.”
“You certainly know how to get a man’s attention.”
“I don’t want a man’s attention, Dingane. I need the whole country’s attention, and I need good officers to take care of business.”
“I know enough officers with affected family to be able to make the arrests we know of now. But if this is as big as you say, I can’t guarantee we have enough people to make sure this shit is properly taken care of. We’re talking a massive recall of medication. Coordinating the collection and redistribution of medications to those with contaminated supplies alone will be immense.”
“I know.”
“The people will be outraged. There’ll be riots.”
“I hope not.”
“How do you plan to start getting the information out to those who need to coordinate the response?”
“I’m having my office send out emails to all hospital administrators, executives, and pharmacies within the hour. Detailing which hospitals need to test their stock. We’re also organizing collection points in affected areas for people to dump their bad medications. Emergency stockpiles of Combivirine are being gathered as we speak and will be distributed as soon as they reach the hospitals.”
“And how are you going to tell the people? Send them letters from the hospitals?”
Amahle shook her head. “Too long. Too many people won’t see them or be able to read them, or they will ignore them. We’re taking this out there straight away.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m holding a press conference in twenty minutes.”
“I can’t possibly coordinate multiple arrests in that time.”
“Dingane, it’s amazing what we can do when we’re motivated and fighting for what’s right.”
“It would be a lot safer to send out letters and give me the time to pick these bastards up.”
“It might be. But I refuse to betray the people any longer. We have the means to help those in need. We have the medications to help them stay healthy and fight AIDS. Greed has stolen that from them. I refuse to hide what has happened and skulk in the shadows while people die. I will not do it. I will not live the rest of my life ashamed of this. I—we—have been trusted with the care and protection of our people, Dingane. I will not betray that trust as others have.”
Dingane looked her in the eye, and she hoped he couldn’t see her shaking.
“Very well. I have some calls to make, Amahle.” He held his hand out to her and shook it firmly. “It is a pleasure and an honour to serve and protect our people alongside you.” He left the room, his phone already in place, barking staccato words to the person on the other end.
Amahle turned to Julius. “How many did you manage to get in touch with?”
“Every media service in Cape Town will be there and all the major national news services who have representatives in Cape Town. I’ll go and make sure everything is set up outside for you. I’ll see you down there.”
“Good. Are you ready for this?” She looked at Imogen.
“You want me there with you?”
“Yes. Like I said before, I’m done with skulking in shadows. I’ve never made a secret of who I am. I’m not ashamed, and I refuse to behave as though I am.”
“You sure?”
“I just said so. Come on. Let’s go.” She stopped at the nurses’ station. “Is there any news about my brother?”
“I’m sorry, no. Nothing yet,” the woman said, a piteous smile on her face. “Would you like me to put my head in and see if they can tell us anything before you go?”
“Please.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you.” Amahle waited until she was gone. “Do you think they teach that smile in nursing college?”
Imogen chuckled. “Probably. At law school we have a whole term dedicated to the appropriate look for every occasion. From the smile that instills fear to the one that eviscerates.”
“You’ll have to teach me that one.”
“I think you’ve got that one down, Minister.”
“Minister?”
Amahle turned to see a doctor approach her. “Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Stephanie Sisulu. I’m one of the team working on your brother. So far he’s hanging in there, but we still have a long way to go. We weren’t able to save his foot. The damage to the tissue was too great and there were already signs of necrosis as we debrided the wound. There was also substantial capillary damage to the lower leg and we’ve had to amputate just below the knee.”
“And his other injuries?”
“The damage to his penis is extensive. We are doing all we can, but it isn’t looking good.”
“What does that mean?”
“We won’t amputate unless we have to. There is substantial burn damage to the tissue, and the wire that was wrapped around it has fused both to itself and in places to the flesh.”
“Oh, God.”
“We will have to perform skin grafts to try to rebuild some areas of the flesh and muscle. It won’t be possible to do all that needs to be done right now. We need to ensure there is no infection before we can consider the grafts.” The doctor shook her head. “It’s been years since we’ve had to treat
injuries like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“The last time I was part of a surgery with a penile injury like this was before apartheid was abolished. It was a technique used by the police back in the day.”
“The police?” Imogen asked.
“Yeah. They’d shock the poor soul until it literally dropped off.”
“That really happens?”
“I’m afraid so. I have to get back in there. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Imogen ran her fingers through her hair. “Well, that was more information than I needed to know.”
“Me too. Come on. I’ve got a press corps to talk to.”
“You sure? You can take a few minutes if you need to.”
“I just need to get this over with.”
“Okay, but just remember, whatever happens next, you’re the good guy in this story. You’re doing the right thing.”
Amahle nodded and pushed the call button for the lift. “I’ll try to remember that when someone starts calling for my head.”
“Head of state, more likely.”
“I thought you were a barrister, not a comedienne.”
“Now look who’s being funny.”
They stood side by side in silence until the doors opened at the lobby. Amahle pulled a deep breath into her lungs and led them out the door.
“Jesus, how many people?” Imogen said.
“Looks like a couple hundred.” Bulbs flashed as she took her place on the makeshift podium. Julius stood off to the side, camera on a tripod, peering down the eyepiece. He looked up as she turned to him. He held her gaze for a moment before looking back at his camera, but it was long enough for her to recognize the pride, faith, and the fire of righteousness burning in his eyes. They were committed and there was no turning back now. This was the right thing to do. She cleared her throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, thank you for joining me today. Make sure you’ve got your recorders on, your notebooks out, and your brains in gear. I have a lot to get through, so please, no questions until I’m finished.
“When I was a little girl my grandmother told me a story. Some of you may know it, the Curse of the Chameleon. I see some of you nodding. For those who don’t, in short, it is the story of how the Creator made new skins for the people of the earth in order to prolong life. He gave the gift to the chameleon to deliver, but he was tricked and the new skins were stolen by the snake. After this, the chameleon was so ashamed that he vowed to hide from people for eternity and humans died.
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