Shabalala nodded. ‘Then who killed Mariam? If he was being blackmailed, with her dead, that would have been the end of the blackmail.’
Durant paused and pursed his lips. ‘Unless he killed her.’
‘Or someone else killed her and made him look guilty.’
‘Which might have led him to kill himself, or, perhaps he was killed,’ Durant said.
‘What if Mariam was involved? What if she was dangled, like a honeypot?’
‘It’s possible, but unlikely. I mean, she’s a mother and Amina said she’s a decent person. Perhaps she was unwittingly dangled, set up. And the more I think about it, the more I’m thinking Arshad Tanveer.’
‘What?’ Shabalala narrowed his eyes. ‘Would he set up his own wife?’
‘It wasn’t much of a marriage, we know that. Something’s always bothered me about that guy. He walked in, remember? We never found him, he found us.’
‘So we’re part of this whole thing? We’ve protected him and maybe given him information which he could use?’
‘I’m thinking out loud here. I might be way off, but Tanveer would have been in the perfect place to blackmail Khalid. All he had to do was follow Mariam and take some photos. He had ample opportunities. We knew Mariam was being abused, it would have been easy to blame everything on Khalid, force him to cooperate.’
‘It’s plausible. But he was the first one to point us to the IAC and identify the sheikh. Why would he have done that?’
‘Maybe to take attention off himself, I don’t know.’
‘This is all speculation, Kev, we need to prove it.’
‘Global Research. I mean, it all makes sense now. Mariam wasn’t working, she was with Khalid. Amina could never find out where she worked. Then there’s the FBI guy, Fulham. Perhaps the FBI were also onto him. He also knew about Mariam. Pity the guy’s dead.’
‘Do you think Khalid carried the bomb onto the ship?’
Durant sighed. ‘It’s quite a serious allegation and he can’t defend himself. But it’s conceivable. He would have done whatever the blackmailer demanded. He was in charge of security – he must have had full access to the ship long before the security measures were put in. He could have.’
‘We need to write a report. We need to put all this down on paper.’
‘I need to see Tanveer, ask him some questions.’
‘Let’s run it by the chief first.’
‘I saw Tanveer yesterday. He seemed fine. He doesn’t know we’re on to him.’
‘I’ll back you up then, in case you need some muscle.’
‘Thanks. Backup would be good; let’s surprise him at his flat.’
‘What about Mohammed? Still think he’s innocent?’
‘I don’t know any more. Everybody seems guilty. Even the Indians; the sheikh was their asset. So, indirectly, the Indian government is responsible if the sheikh blew up the ship.’
‘This whole thing’s one big “if”. But you’re right; Tanveer has a lot of questions to answer.’ Shabalala walked towards the door. ‘Let’s go. I’ll follow you to his flat.’
Durant picked up his phone. ‘Damn. Cellphone battery’s on one bar, so if we lose comms, that’s why. If you need to break away, flash your lights and go. Otherwise, I’ll see you there.’
Durant swung the Land Rover out of the underground parking and headed for the main road. His cellphone rang before he reached the robots and he clicked his tongue. He doubted he had more than a few minutes of battery time left on the phone and he really needed to stay in touch.
‘I was thinking,’ Stephanie said. ‘What if Mom’s medical aid—’
‘You know, Steph, let’s chat tonight, I’m low on battery.’
‘What time will you be home?’ The low battery tone sounded and just like that, the phone went dead.
The Americans weren’t messing around. They had practically commandeered the Hilton Hotel and there were whole floors dedicated to specialist agencies. The ATF had the third floor, the FBI the fourth, the Department of the Navy had the seventh. The conference halls of the Hilton were turned into command posts and operational centres. Earlier, a C17 Globemaster cargo plane had brought in fifty tons of palletised cargo, which had been transferred to trucks and brought in during the course of the morning. The newspaper mentioned that a pilotless drone had been spotted taking off from Virginia Airport and was flying over Durban, sending images to the operational centre. In the hotel lobby, police and soldiers patrolled, automatic rifles in their hands. Outside the hotel, concrete blocks prevented vehicles from entering the area. The only way in was through a tightly controlled corridor which the army had secured. Berkeley met Masondo at the boom gate and helped him into an embassy vehicle. Two armed soldiers accompanied them to the lobby area.
‘We’ve been invaded,’ Masondo said to Berkeley as she helped him into the wheelchair. ‘Not by terrorists, but by the Americans.’
Berkeley smiled and waved off the officers. ‘It feels a bit like we’ve locked the stable door after the horse has bolted, I’m afraid. We’re all here to help you.’
Masondo shook his head. ‘You guys never learn,’ he said. ‘We need before-the-bang intelligence, not after-the-bang show of force. This is exactly what the terrorists want to see.’
‘I’m sure you know I don’t make these types of decisions, Mr Masondo. This decision was made at presidential level.’ They were silent as the lift ascended to the fifteenth floor. As the doors opened, Masondo heard radios crackle and two men in suits stepped in and wheeled the chair out. One held a device to the chair, scanned it quickly and nodded without saying a word. Masondo was tempted to say something, but refrained. They were led to a room and allowed in.
‘Sorry about all that,’ Berkeley said. ‘But we’re alone now and can talk.’ She clicked the briefcase open and handed Masondo a thin folder.
‘These are the cellphone records of the sheikh’s mobile.’
Masondo shook his head. ‘How did you get that right? We applied for a warrant two days ago and we’re still waiting for a response.’
Berkeley smiled. ‘American Express gave the FBI terrorist squad a plastic card with no limit. Off the record, Mr Masondo, we don’t always have the luxury of time on our side. Look around you. The budget for this operation runs into tens of millions of dollars. We can get whatever we need to make progress fast.’
Masondo raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.’
‘Be impressed. The first forty-eight hours are crucial. We can’t be bogged down with bureaucracy. New rules apply when you’re at war.’
‘We are a very unwitting participant in this war, ma’am, I assure you.’
‘I hear you. But look at this. The sheikh received a call just prior to the explosion from one of his employees – his driver in fact – Ruslan Vakhayev.’
Masondo nodded. ‘We know about Ruslan.’
‘So we looked at Ruslan’s cell records and found he received a call just prior to phoning the sheikh from – this number,’ and Berkeley handed Masondo a piece of paper.
It was Shabalala’s number. Masondo didn’t react immediately but folded the paper and put it in his pocket. ‘The proverbial plot thickens,’ he said. ‘I know you’re a diplomat, so let me be diplomatic, ma’am. Under normal circumstances, I’d be communicating with one of my counterparts, an intelligence officer. We’d be speaking operationally and we’d understand concepts like “need to know” and “operational security”.’
‘I know it’s awkward, Mr Masondo, but I can’t interfere in any processes, I’m merely communicating information to you as I receive it, as a courtesy. I don’t expect anything in return.’
‘I appreciate that. So, confidentially, let me tell you that this number belongs to one of my people, and that’s all you can know at this point.’
Berkeley leaned forward, frowning. ‘One of your people? An asset?’
‘No. A member.’
‘So Ruslan’s your asset?
Well, we can clear this up pretty quickly, because we’re liaising with SAPS right now to have him taken in for questioning.’
‘Allow me a phone call, ma’am.’
Masondo called Shabalala and spoke softly in isiZulu. He finished the call and placed his phone on the table.
‘My member spoke to Ruslan at around 20:15. He asked him if everything was quiet around the ship, to which Ruslan responded it was. The member asked him to try to make contact with the sheikh and find out the status of the event, if all was quiet.’
‘So your member phoned Ruslan at 20:15. At about 20:29 Ruslan phoned the sheikh and at 20:30, the sheikh phoned a cellphone which detonated the bomb.’ Berkeley twirled a pen between her fingers. ‘What are you reading into this?’
‘Are you implying my member is involved?’
‘Not at all, Mr Masondo, sorry if I implied that. It explains why Ruslan called the sheikh, though, on your member’s instruction. Did Ruslan give the sheikh information? What did he write down?’
‘I saw him write something down. I assumed it was a number.’
‘Then didn’t Ruslan give the number of the detonating phone to the sheikh, who then dialled that number?’
Masondo raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s two o’clock now. Give me a few hours before you take Ruslan in. We don’t want to lose his trust. Let me send my guy to talk to him. Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation.’
NINETEEN
‘This thing is slowing me down,’ Masondo said, using Nandi’s arm to support himself until he could manoeuvre himself out of the wheelchair and collapse onto the couch. ‘I’m better off without it.’
‘Dad, you need to rest that leg of yours, otherwise it’ll never get better. Don’t be stubborn.’ Nandi tried not to sound disrespectful, but knew she had to be firm with her father. He was an old soldier and soldiers were their most heroic – and foolish – when wounded.
‘Stop thinking like a doctor, my girl. Think what’s in the best interest of your father.’
‘I am. You’ve got nerve damage to that leg. If you don’t look after it, you’ll be in that wheelchair forever.’
His daughter, however, underestimated the resolve of a struggle veteran. Obstacles and setbacks didn’t break morale, they fed it. While Nandi started to replace the dressing on his leg, Masondo reached for his cellphone and paged through his directory. He looked at his watch and did a quick calculation. It was late afternoon in Moscow and General Ivanov would still be at his office. Whether he’d be sober or not was the question.
‘Sergei, privet. Long time.’ Masondo had last spoken to the general when he’d attended the funeral of an mk commander in Lusaka two years previously. Masondo was in his twenties when his organisation sent him to Russia for military training. The then Captain Ivanov had struck him as efficient, dedicated, discreet. The camaraderie had stood the test of time. At the cemetery, Ivanov had embraced him like a brother. The general was the chief of personnel in the Western Strategic Command and highly respected, but assured Masondo that comrades were inseparable over time and distance and he could always be counted upon. Masondo was counting on him now.
‘Comrade Alfred, greetings from Mother Russia.’ He laughed, and it was as raucous as Masondo remembered the time he’d walked into the Leningrad barracks where the ragged crew of ANC exiles first met him. ‘You need me to find the terrorists who did this in your country?’
‘A favour, comrade. An urgent favour and you’re not far from the truth. Maybe you can help me with that.’
‘I am so sorry, comrade, to read of the disaster. Your beautiful country has been blemished.’
‘And I need you to help me fix it, comrade.’
‘I toast your resolve. Of course.’
‘I want to give you a name and a date and city of birth. Do you have friends in Chechnya?’
‘Comrade, you know I have friends everywhere. Especially Chechnya.’
‘How long will it take you to get me details of this fellow?’
‘A few hours, comrade, and a few vodkas.’
‘Can you make it a few minutes, and much vodka? You can send me the bill.’
‘Comrade Alfred, as always you are rushed. It is too warm there; you need to be frozen to slow you down a little.’
The area surrounding Arshad Tanveer’s building lacked lighting and smelt of sewage. Amina felt uncomfortable bringing Siraj to the flat at night, but she’d do it for Mariam. Siraj was wrapped up in a blanket and she held him close to her, even though it wasn’t cold at all. His little sleeping body gave her a measure of comfort. Arshad had allowed her to keep Siraj for three days and it was hard for her to bring him back to that squalid place, but he’d phoned earlier and indicated he was ready to take his son back for a while. She’d parked her car as close as she could to the entrance of the flats, but there was still a ten-metre walk along a narrow alley, a journey up a flight of broken steps and then onto a landing where a rusted steel gate served no purpose other than to disfigure the building even more.
Masondo dialled Shabalala’s number while Nandi changed the dressings on his leg. ‘Cedric, go and see Ruslan. I want you to get back to me after you’ve met him and you need to reassure me he’s not involved in this thing. Where’s Durant? He’s not answering his phone.’
‘I’m driving behind him. We’re on our way to Tanveer’s flat. He wants to ask him some questions, I’m backing him up.’
‘Thank you, Mr Shabalala, turn around and go to Ruslan. Durant is old enough to look after himself. I can’t waste the talents of my two best men doing the same thing. Call Ruslan, meet him somewhere. I want to know exactly what he asked the sheikh and whether he gave the sheikh something he would have written down.’
Durant saw Shabalala flash his car lights and peel away. His cellphone lay lifeless on the passenger seat beside him and he assumed his colleague would have tried to phone and say that he had needed to abort the convoy role. No problem, Durant thought, he could handle Tanveer. It was approaching 7 p.m. and he was desperate to get home.
Masondo took Nandi’s hand. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m trying to run your life. I’m sorry if I seem overprotective, but since Mom died, you’re all I’ve got.’
‘Don’t be silly, Dad, you’re not going to lose me; don’t worry so much.’
‘I’ve thought about a lot of things lately – a near-death experience has a way of focusing a person – I don’t want you to begrudge me one day and say I didn’t give you every opportunity possible to flourish.’
‘You have, Dad. It’s because of you I’m a doctor, without you I probably wouldn’t be anything in life. You’ve given me every opportunity I could possibly hope for.’
‘I don’t want you to think I have an issue with Cedric Shabalala. He’s a good man.’
Nandi wrung her hands. ‘I’m sure he is, Dad.’
‘And I know he’s considering courting you. I know he’s not exactly Prince Charming and you probably wouldn’t be interested, but don’t hurt his feelings. Be open to it perhaps, if you feel you want to.’
Nandi smiled. ‘What if we fall in love?’
Masondo winced and jerked his leg.
‘Sorry, Daddy, did I hurt you?’
‘No, no it’s just that you mustn’t rush into anything. Cedric is a very complicated person.’
‘Dad, I—’
‘Excuse me, darling.’ Masondo raised his cellphone to his ear. ‘Good evening, comrade, you’re working late tonight.’
‘I am sending you an email, comrade. The information you requested is in my hands, and I have a man I owe a big favour to. I will send my banking details. And drink to your success.’
It was after seven and Shabalala realised he hadn’t eaten yet. He had five minutes to kill before Ruslan came, so parked his car outside an ATM at the Plaza to draw money. He would buy something after his meeting. He heard the distinctive sound of the sheikh’s Mercedes behind him as he walked away from the cash machine. Ruslan motioned for him to come o
ver to the car.
‘Climb in, Reno, let me take you for a drive.’
Shabalala hesitated at the car window. ‘Um, I left my phone in my car. Don’t you want to come with me rather?’
‘How often do you get a chance to drive in a car like this? I have something important to show you and we don’t have a lot of time.’
Shabalala shoved the cash into his small rucksack and climbed into the passenger seat. ‘Sorry to drag you out this time of the night, but I needed to see you.’
‘I was about to phone you because something came up, so I’m pleased we were able to meet. You wanted to ask me something?’
‘I’m sure they’ve already asked you a whole lot of questions,’ Shabalala said.
Ruslan gunned the motor and turned onto the beach road. ‘The police spoke to me at the centre.’
‘You were close to the sheikh, so they assume you know a lot about him.’
‘Yes, I’ve been harassed a lot. The police have interviewed me and they’ve searched my room. There is one thing I haven’t told them; I wanted to tell you first.’ A cane truck loomed closer in the single-lane road and Ruslan slowed the Mercedes down. ‘So dangerous, these trucks. Look at this, so easy just to drive into the back of it. And it happens a lot.’
‘I’m listening. Do I need to write something down?’
‘No, just listen. You asked me to phone the sheikh during the function, do you remember?’
‘Of course. And you did phone him.’
‘I did. When I phoned him, he asked me for the number of a contact of his called Walid. I never met this man, but a week ago he gave me Walid’s number. I forgot about it. When I phoned him on the ship, he said I must look up the number of Walid on my phone and read it to him. I did that.’
‘Was it the number that detonated the bomb?’
‘It must have been. Because the police are saying after I called the sheikh, the next call he made was to the cellphone bomb.’
‘So Walid didn’t exist. Maybe he just didn’t want to have the number on him or in his own phone directory.’
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