‘I value my job, you hear me? You’re jeopardising my career in this country, you little slut.’ It was tinny and crackled, but unmistakably his voice. The clip ended. The phone slipped from his fingers and dropped into his lap as big raindrops started pelting his car.
Masondo had opened his office window because the air conditioners were being serviced and without them the building had become an oven. ‘Well, Kevin, we’ll find this Frost character, and when we do, you’ll be the first to know. I’ve got the guys working and living in Chesterville looking at it. They won’t sleep until they’ve traced him. Just a matter of time.’
‘Thanks, Chief. I need closure on that whole miserable saga. I’d love to see that swine in court.’
‘I hear you, Kevin, and you will. He’ll go away forever, no question. It was a dastardly thing he did.’
Durant respected Masondo, yet he knew that even if Frost was convicted and made it to court and if, by some miracle, he was found guilty, ‘forever’ just wasn’t a word the justice system used when sentencing even the nastiest of murderers to prison sentences. He changed the subject. ‘How was the meeting with the RAW guy? Any confessions?’
‘Suleiman didn’t deny the sheikh’s working for them. He also didn’t say the sheikh was an agent or an informer of any kind, he just said he cooperates.’ Masondo offered Durant some popcorn.
Durant shook his head. ‘No thanks. Most people would cooperate for a case full of dollars. Come on, sir, we know he’s handling the guy and paying him.’
‘Of course we do. And he knows we do. The question is how do we benefit from it? You see, this window of opportunity has been benevolently sent to us at a time when we desperately need answers about what’s happening at the centre. We’re under pressure, as you know. We need to work with everything we have, even if it’s unpleasant.’
‘So are they willing to share info with us, RAW?’
‘No. They’re unwilling, but they will. They know they have to. Obviously it’s taken them a lot of time and money to develop the sheikh as an asset and now we’re telling them we want everything they get from him. It’s a bitter pill for them to swallow.’
Masondo answered his phone and said, ‘Send him in.’
Shabalala knocked and entered the office. ‘Sorry to interrupt, sir, but our asset at the centre has given me the name of someone he thinks might be our man.’
Masondo motioned for him to sit. ‘The threat call?’
‘Correct, sir.’
‘What’s happening, chaps? Suddenly, all the news is good.’
‘Faizel Mohammed. Quite outspoken, according to Ruslan. Always making statements about the crusaders and jihad and the West. Ruslan says no one at the centre really takes him seriously, all talk and no action, but I think in light of the threat . . . maybe we need to look at this guy.’
Masondo agreed. ‘Make it happen, Mr Shabalala. Popcorn?’
‘No thanks.’
‘Of course not. Let’s throw all our resources at this Mohammed chap for the next twenty-four hours. Mr Durant, you help him. Register him as a target and apply surveillance on him. We don’t have a lot of time.’
‘Can we ask our new asset, the sheikh, to maybe also give us a headsup on Mohammed? The Indians are paying him so we might as well get our money’s worth,’ Durant said.
‘I’ll speak to Suleiman. And I’ll have to speak to Special Agent Fulham. We’re forced to work as a team here. We don’t want their Assistant Secretary of State harmed while she’s on our soil.’
Fulham smiled as he got into Khalid’s car. He slid the seat back to accommodate his legs and Khalid remembered Mariam was the last person to sit in his car. He hoped Fulham couldn’t smell her perfume as he did every time he rode in his vehicle. ‘Good news, Mr Khalid. We may have found our man. News just in is that the local guys have ID’d a certain Faizel Mohammed at the centre who’s been a naughty boy, saying all kinda nasty things about us. Bet he’s the guy.’
Khalid accelerated away from Fulham’s hotel on the beachfront and headed for the city centre. Again he unconsciously chose a route which dodged the area he’d always parked in while he’d waited for Mariam to come to his car. ‘Really? Well, Assistant Secretary Conroy will be pleased.’
‘I’ve already cabled Washington, and the boys at Quantico are running this name through every database they got. The CIA and NSA fellows should also have it by now and I’m guessing something’s gotta pop up in the next twenty-four hours or so.’
Khalid nodded and set the air-conditioner knob to twenty degrees. Fulham’s eyes were all over the inside of the car. What was he looking for? Evidence of Mariam? ‘Well, that’s a relief.’
‘Yeah, sure is. I could see this thing was really starting to bother you. What did I tell you? Fundamental nobody, right? Shooting off his mouth at evening prayers and telling everyone he’s going to get us for invading Iraq. Well, we’re going to get him. He’s going down and I’m heading home.’
Khalid turned into the underground parking at the consulate building and silently hoped he wouldn’t go down with Faizel Mohammed.
Durant didn’t relax often, but he was relaxed now. It was just before seven, Alexis was in the bath, and he’d changed into a T-shirt and shorts. Stephanie sat beside him on the couch.
‘I think we might know who did this to me,’ he said.
Stephanie put a hand to her mouth. ‘Who shot at you?’
‘Who shot me, ja. A guy called Frost.’
‘Frost? That’s his name?’
‘Well, that’s what they call him.’
‘But why don’t they arrest him?’
Durant chewed his lip in thought. ‘They will, when they find him.’
Stephanie curled up close to him and smiled, but he continued to stare at the television. ‘Wow, that’s a relief. How do you feel about it?’
‘Relieved, I suppose. I never expected to know who did it.’
Stephanie thought for a moment. ‘You won’t change your mind about going now, will you?’
Durant shook his head and looked at his wife. ‘Of course not.’
‘I’m so happy for you. Great you can put all that behind you before we go. You can leave NIA with a clear conscience.’
‘By the way, I don’t work for NIA any more.’
‘What?’
‘It’s called the State Security Agency now, can you believe it?’
‘Really, why?’
‘I don’t know. New principals.’
‘So what’s different?’
‘Nothing really. Makes no difference to how we work. Business as usual for me.’ Durant got up and clicked the kettle on.
‘How’s your friend?’
‘Cedric? He’s okay. He’s a brilliant worker; I can’t complain.’ Two cups clanked onto the countertop. ‘If one can look past his annoying habits.’
‘No tea for me, thanks.’ She got a daily update from her husband on Cedric’s idiosyncrasies, which were hugely entertaining. ‘I’ll miss your stories about him. I hope he’ll be able to cope without you.’
Durant would miss the big guy. Every day was an adventure with him. ‘He’ll have to. I feel sorry for Mr Masondo, though. He might be a bit lost having to work with Ced day in and day out.’
‘Don’t let it bother you. They’ll manage without you. I need to make an appointment for us for a medical. It’s going to cost again, I’m afraid, but it’s one of the things we have to do.’
The kettle clicked off and Durant slopped the water into his cup. Every step towards emigration seemed to present further challenges. Durant normally thrived on challenges. He had worked on some complex cases which threw up challenge after challenge and he somehow overcame them. Yet, when it came to moving to New Zealand, he simply didn’t have the energy for it. ‘By the time we finally get to New Zealand we’ll be broke.’
‘Don’t be put off. If it was easy, everybody would be doing it.’
‘I thought everyone was doing it.’ He smiled. ‘But
I hear more people are coming back than going nowadays.’
‘Don’t be silly, Kevin. That’s obviously not true. That’s what everyone wants you to think.’
‘I don’t know. I know it’s hard to get there, but it’s even harder to get back once you’re there and things don’t work out. The recession’s biting.’
‘Things will work out. There’ll always be a demand for your kind of work. They need security specialists there, with experience.’ The words came out quickly. ‘It’ll be easy for you. Which reminds me, my mom’s been getting calls from an Arab-sounding guy. Clean forgot to tell you.’
Durant looked up from stirring his tea. ‘What? When?’
‘She mentioned it this morning. Maybe give her a call and ask her.’
‘That’s quite important, I’d say. How did you forget to mention it?’ There was an edge to Durant’s voice he couldn’t conceal.
Stephanie shook her head and smiled. ‘You’re dealing with so much at the moment, didn’t want to add to your stress. You know Mom, always has her stories.’
Durant nodded. ‘She hasn’t taken the news of emigration very well, has she?’
‘No, Kevin, don’t do that. It’s got nothing to do with US emigrating. Mom’s fine with it, I told you. She’s the one who said it’s the best thing for Alexis. We’ve got her blessing.’
‘I hope she wasn’t just saying that to make it easier for you.’
‘Mom wouldn’t do that. She knows what we’ve been through; she’s fine with it.’
Durant remained silent. Everyone seemed fine with it except him.
The centre was situated in a relatively isolated rural area but security had never been an issue. The surrounding communities benefited from the benevolence of the sheikh’s outreach programmes and the food and medical supplies delivered to the local population brought in return a fraternal ownership of the centre. It was a peaceful coexistence, a balance of food for security. Doors were routinely left unlocked, bicycles rested against walls overnight, tools and farming implements lay untouched in the fields.
Faizel Mohammed left his room at the accommodation centre and walked the hundred metres to the mosque for evening prayers. Ruslan should have joined him, but didn’t. He would be late for Maghrib tonight, a courtesy, he was sure, the Almighty would grant him.
Mohammed’s room was in a block on the south side of the complex, a row of concrete buildings which served as stables in bygone years. There was accommodation for twelve students in this block, each with his own room, which was nothing more than a three-by-two-metre area with a door and a small window which was set too high to see anything out of. The stable door was still the way in, and the room was lit with an overhead tungsten globe which made it intolerably hot. Mohammed’s single bed was set against one wall, a small desk opposite it. A laptop lay open on the table and various books and files lay on the floor underneath. Ruslan went to the cupboard under the window and pulled it open. He put his hand in and felt around the area where a pile of shoes lay. How did Mohammed live in this hole? Perspiration glistened on Ruslan’s arms and he felt his confidence at completing the operation melt away in the heat. He’d given Reno the name but the name wasn’t enough. Reno wanted evidence that Mohammed was the target. He would not disappoint Reno. And he would not disappoint the Almighty. Two minutes later, he was done and as he exited the stable, he looked over his shoulder to make sure everything was the same as when he’d arrived. Satisfied, he left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He made his way to the mosque, his spirits lifted. Allahu Akbar. God is great.
The Sibaya Casino wasn’t Shabalala’s favourite meeting place. First off, he didn’t like gambling. It was a smart business model designed to look like entertainment, wrapped in sugar-coated marketing and calculated to fulfil one purpose only – to persuade you to feed your money to a machine connected to a computer which was programmed to repay only a fraction of what was put in. Unless you were one of the few who found favour in the world of random arithmetic, the chances were good you’d leave poorer than when you arrived. Second, it was very close to the centre, a mere two or three kilometres. But it was convenient for Ruslan. He said no one from the centre would venture to the casino – strictly forbidden – haram. They would use other casinos where their chances of being spotted by the imam, or, God forbid, the sheikh, were minimal. Unless the imam and sheikh were also hunched over the machines, with their caps pulled down low over their faces, in which case the ‘I didn’t see you if you didn’t see me’ rule would apply.
Durant always told Shabalala the casinos were good places for meeting dangerous or dodgy characters. They would have to pass though the metal detectors first so you’d know they weren’t carrying any weapons. And then, just about every square metre of the building is covered by CCTV so one could always go back to the footage if anything went wrong. But Shabalala didn’t consider Ruslan dangerous or dodgy, so he thought it wasn’t necessary to go right in. Instead, the meeting was held in a quiet garden outside, just past the arched bridge which led down to the theatre.
Ruslan greeted Shabalala with a wave. ‘Thank you for coming, Reno.’
‘Have you got something for me?’
Ruslan’s hand went into his pocket and emerged with a plastic wrapper. ‘I went into Faizel’s room last night, looked around. I found this.’
Ruslan handed Shabalala the wrapper.
‘You went into Faizel Mohammed’s room? On whose authority?’
‘It was open. I didn’t break in. I just walked in.’
Shabalala shook his head, for a moment forgetting about the wrapper in his hand. ‘But still. There are due processes. Leave the investigating to us. You gave us the lead, that was all you had to do. What’s this?’
‘I found it in his shoe cupboard. I didn’t have much time to look around. It’s a label. Look carefully at the print on it.’
Shabalala held it up and looked at the small print.
Durant read the print on the wrapper and there was a discernible tremble to his voice when he spoke. ‘Powergel explosives.’
‘Isn’t this where we say “bingo”?’
‘No, we can’t. Not yet. Ruslan took it from Mohammed’s room. It’s not admissible evidence.’
‘But at least we know we’re targeting the right person. I’m sure SAPS can apply for a search warrant. I spoke to Mr Masondo earlier. The sheikh confirmed Faizel Mohammed is a bit of a problem child. A real hothead, attention-seeker. He says most of the people at the centre just laugh him off.’
Durant shrugged. ‘Well, we can’t just laugh him off. I wish we had more time to do this properly. It feels like we’re rushing it.’
‘Because we are rushing it. An American warship’s in our harbour in a couple of days and one of the most important American officials will be in our city. With Mohammed in custody we can tell the Americans their lady will be safe here.’
‘I hear you. But to arrest him we need evidence. How sure are you that there’s explosives hidden in that guy’s room?’ Durant froze in thought for a moment and then smiled.
‘What? What, Kevin?’ Shabalala punched his colleague lightly on the shoulder to bring him back.
‘I’ve got an idea, but keep it to yourself, it’s an unofficial idea.’
Shabalala put his hands up. ‘No, please, I don’t want to hear your unofficial idea. Once I hear it, I’m part of it.’
Durant smiled. ‘You’re part of it anyway. You’ve got a stash of clean prepaid cards, haven’t you?’
‘I’m not giving one to you to do something unofficial with. I’m sorry, I don’t work like that.’
‘Come on, Ced, it’s a good cause. It’s going to get us into the centre without a warrant and quite legitimately so. I just need to make a call from a clean SIM card and phone.’
Ruslan swung the sheikh’s Mercedes through the gates of the centre and slowed down when he counted three, four police cars and a police minibus parked outside the reception area, their blue lights
flashing. Had they come for Mohammed? That was quick. He could hear the barking of dogs and the crackle of police radios. He turned the Mercedes into the visitor’s parking and motioned to one of the staff. ‘What’s this all about?’ he asked.
‘Bomb scare. Somebody phoned. The bomb squad’s checking now. We can’t go back in until they’ve finished.’
Ruslan smiled at the creativity of someone. The sniffer dogs would find traces of explosives in Faizel’s room. Very clever. Deceptive, but clever. He dialled Shabalala’s number from his prepaid cellphone.
‘Hello, Reno. Congratulations. Your plan should work.’
‘What plan?’ Shabalala asked.
‘Your bomb scare plan. Very smart. I commend you.’
‘I will speak to you later,’ Shabalala said, and ended the call.
Shabalala looked flustered when he entered Durant’s office. ‘That’s a crime. I should report you.’
Durant laughed. ‘I didn’t lie. I said there were explosives at the centre. You and I know that’s probably true.’
‘But the way you did it. Phoning in a bomb hoax.’
‘If there’s five kilograms of Powergel at the centre, then it’s not a hoax call, is it?’
‘So if they find the explosives, you think you’re off the hook?’
‘Look, Ced, there was no quick way of getting a search warrant based on circumstantial evidence. Ruslan brought us evidence we couldn’t use. I just helped the process along.’
‘Using illegitimate means.’
‘No, using a well-established intelligence tradition called “deception”. My motive was pure. It’ll achieve our objective.’
‘What if they don’t find anything?’
‘My motive was still pure. We had to be sure. But I’m pretty sure they’ll find something.’
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