7 Days

by Deon Meyer

  It was a while before Afrika responded. With his eyes on the floor he said, ‘I know Kotko.’

  Those words were not what he had expected. Griessel nearly blurted out, ‘Excuse me?’

  Afrika made a small gesture with his hand. ‘I want it on record that I had no idea that Kotko had any contact with Sloet. I want it on record that I did not know he is the communist that the shooter was referring to. And I want it on record that I shared this information voluntarily.’

  ‘Very well, General. Please tell us how you came to know Kotko.’

  Emotions came and went across John Afrika’s face. ‘People make mistakes, Musad,’ he said. ‘We all make mistakes …’

  42

  Afrika put a hand in his jacket and took out a folded sheet of paper. He unfolded it, looked at it, took a deep breath, and said seriously, as though he were testifying in court, ‘On the morning of Thursday twenty-third September last year I received a call from a member of the Ministerial Committee. That person—’

  ‘The Ministerial Committee for Police?’

  ‘Yes. That person asked me to be of assistance with a request from a Mr Kotko—’

  ‘Who is this person, General?’

  ‘Musad, I am not going to tell you now.’

  Manie just sat there, frozen and without emotion.

  ‘The person asked me to help with a request from this Kotko, who was entirely unknown to me at the time. Shortly thereafter I received a call from Kotko, who invited me to lunch with him that afternoon. I did so. Kotko told me how many of the people in government he knew from the struggle days. And that he was a businessman now living in Johannesburg, and investing in the economy. Then he asked me to help two of his friends. These two …’ Afrika consulted the paper in his hand ‘… were Fedor Vazov and Lev Grigoryev, who had been arrested the previous night, September twenty-second, by the Table View station after a complaint of assault in a nightclub. They were still being detained. Kotko said he believed the whole affair was a misunderstanding, one of those things where everyone involved has had a little too much to drink. And he and the member of the Ministerial Committee would appreciate it very much if I could solve the problem. After the meal I phoned the station. The SC confirmed that it was a bar brawl, and that it would be difficult to make a case against the suspects. I asked him to release them, and drop the charges. It was done.’

  ‘That’s all, General?’ Nyathi asked, with relief audible in his voice.

  Afrika shook his head slowly. ‘No, Zola, that is not all.’ He consulted his notes again. ‘On the twenty-ninth of September last year I drew money from an ATM in Long Street. I noticed that the balance in my cheque account was larger than I expected. I went into the bank and requested a statement. I saw that on the twenty-seventh there had been a deposit of twenty-five thousand rand. I enquired about the origin of the money, and the bank informed me it came from the Isando Friendship Trust. I said that must be a mistake, and told the bank I have to contact the Trust. But I could not track them down.’

  Afrika slowly folded up the paper. ‘I phoned Kotko, because I suspected he might be behind the money. He said it was just to say thank you. For my help. So I said, I can’t accept it, he must please arrange to reverse the payment, or he must give me the bank account number of the Trust so I could pay it back. He just laughed and said he didn’t know if that could be done, he would have to find out. He never came back to me.’

  Silence descended. Outside, a pigeon fluttered at the window, and then perched on the windowsill.

  Nyathi sighed deeply. ‘Do you know what isando means, General?’

  ‘No, Zola.’

  ‘It means “hammer” in Xhosa. And Zulu.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘General, you had no idea that Kotko was the communist to whom the shooter was referring?’

  ‘No. Not at all.’

  ‘I have to ask, when you brought the Sloet case to us, and the emails, why did you specifically ask for Benny and Mbali to work on the investigations?’

  ‘Because I know how brilliant they are.’

  ‘It’s not because you recommended Benny to us in December? And you thought he owed you?’

  ‘Look, Zola, I understand that you have to ask these questions, but I’m telling you that it is not true.’

  ‘And you are the only one who knows what happened to Mbali in Amsterdam? You got her on the Dutch training programme when she was still working at Bellville, and the Dutch reported back to you.’

  Afrika threw his hands in the air. ‘I know what it looks like. But I am telling you now, that is not how it is.’ For the first time he looked at Griessel. ‘Benny, you know me … Musad, you and I have come a long way together. You know I wouldn’t do something like that. Tell them.’

  Manie folded his large hands. ‘General, how does a white conservative Afrikaner know about your connection to Kotko?’

  ‘I don’t have a connection to Kotko.’

  ‘General, how does he know?’

  ‘I don’t know. I mean, we ate together at Balduccis. The world walks past that restaurant. And I wouldn’t know who the SC at Table View spoke to.’

  Manie nodded thoughtfully. ‘Has there been any contact between you and Kotko since the shooter began sending emails?’

  ‘Since September, I never had any contact with him again.’ In a heavy tone.

  ‘Does the person on the Ministerial Committee know about the shooter’s emails?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What will happen if we arrest Kotko?’

  Afrika looked at the pigeon on the windowsill, and shook his head. ‘God, Musad, it will be a mess. He’s got connections …’

  ‘Think for a moment about the mess we’re in now, General. If we arrest him, it will be a sea of politics and drama. And another media circus, because the whole world will be able to see that photo of him and Baloyi. If we don’t do it before four o’clock, the mad devil will shoot another of our people tonight.’

  When the general had gone, Manie sent for Mbali and told her the news.

  ‘Hayi,’ she whispered in disbelief and disappointment.

  ‘Ewe,’ said Nyathi and put his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Whether we like it or not, we are working against time,’ said Manie. ‘Benny, you’ll have to fly up to Gauteng, I’ll get Mavis to see how soon we can get you on a flight, but I think you’d better pack a bag in the meantime. I will talk to the DPCI in Johannesburg, so they can track Kotko down and watch him. Vaughn can coordinate this side, we need more ammunition when you interrogate him, those phone calls in December are not enough.’

  ‘All right, Brigadier.’

  ‘Mbali, everything points at the shooter knowing about John Afrika and Kotko’s doings, that’s our best chance to catch him. You and Vaughn must liaise closely, because the two cases are running together now. But begin at Table View station. Look at people who were there in September last year, who were dishonourably discharged, or under investigation.’

  She nodded dutifully.

  The brigadier checked his watch. ‘We have to get a press release out about Kotko by two, half past two, so it can get on the radio and Internet. There won’t be a policeman shot today.’

  When Griessel had brought Cupido up to speed, he said: ‘Vaughn, my cellphone doesn’t have a speaker. Can you phone Hannes Pruis so we can both hear what he says?’

  ‘No problem. Do you have the number?’

  Griessel gave it to him.

  Cupido phoned, turned the phone around and put it upside down on his desk. The ring was clearly audible.

  ‘Will he be able to hear you talk?’

  ‘Easy.’

  ‘Hello?’ the lawyer answered irritably, probably because it was just after seven in the morning.

  ‘Mr Pruis, this is Benny Griessel of the Hawks …’

  ‘Yes, Captain,’ he said without enthusiasm.

  ‘We are eager to hear more about Silberstein’s connection with a Mr Makar Kotko of ZIC …�
��

  The silence on the line confirmed Griessel’s suspicions.

  ‘Mr Pruis, you know who I am talking about?’

  ‘I … the name sounds familiar …’

  ‘Mr Pruis, you will have to come and explain to us why you withheld information about Kotko and his relationship with Hanneke Sloet.’

  ‘I withheld nothing, Captain. How could I have known he was relevant?’ But Pruis was on the defensive.

  ‘With all your research, you must have known Kotko was involved in organised crime?’

  Pruis did not answer.

  ‘You have forty minutes to present yourself at our offices,’ said Griessel. ‘Or I will bring a warrant, and the entire team of the Hawks’ Organised Crime group.’

  Griessel and Cupido stood staring down at the upside-down cellphone. Pruis took some time to answer, ‘What is your address?’

  ‘We are in the book. Ask for Captain Vaughn Cupido when you arrive.’ Then he indicated to Cupido to end the call.

  Cupido grinned, picked up the phone and turned it off.

  ‘You give him hell, Vaughn. He knew, from the beginning, and he didn’t say a word.’

  ‘I can’t give him the Cupido treatment if Mbali is here, Benna.’

  Griessel understood. ‘Then only get her in after you’ve got the fucker to talk.’

  43

  At half past eight he drove to his flat to pack his bag. The traffic on the N1 to the city was dense and slow-moving.

  He thought about John Afrika. He had felt sorry for him back in Manie’s office. Afrika had only ever been good to him. Direct. Fair. Afrika had believed in him when the rest of the SAPS had written him off as a drunkard. Afrika and Mat Joubert. And Mat had left the Service.

  The thing was, he didn’t know if he could blame Afrika. What do you do if a member of parliament calls you up and says, ‘Help out a little’? You are coloured, but still not black enough for affirmative action, you have a wife and children, a mortgage on your house. You are in your fifties, with maybe five, six years of service to go, you hope for one last promotion to give your pension a bit of a leg-up …

  Afrika had tried to return the money. And the Russians’ drunk-and-disorderly charge was a mere trifle.

  What would he have done if someone had paid twenty-five thousand into his account, and it was one helluva administrative headache to get it paid back? While Carla’s student fees, and Fritz’s school fees, and Anna’s maintenance, and his new expensive clothes all had to be paid for? How long and how hard would he keep on trying to reverse the payment?

  Had Afrika told the whole truth? And what had Manie and Nyathi expected, as early as Saturday night, when the Giraffe came into his office and said, ‘You find any monkey business anywhere, you come to us …’? On Sunday at Greenmarket Square, Mbali had asked him why they had put her on the shooter case. Everyone had had their suspicions, except him.

  The Hawks was another world. And he still stood half in and half out of it.

  What else were they going to dredge up? Who was the person on the ministerial committee that Afrika was protecting?

  This was his first sample of big politics, his first taste of being caught in the crossfire.

  This country wasn’t simple.

  Let him stick to his case. Henry van Eeden’s words, ‘Then I asked if everything was OK, and she said, yes, just an annoying Russian.’

  And Sloet’s friend, Sam Grobler, ‘All men have a thing for Hanneke.’ And Griessel could understand that, if you looked at the photos, the smouldering sensuality.

  Makar Kotko had met Sloet somewhere. And he had lusted for her, and he had phoned her. Over and over. But he was not what she wanted. She had said ‘no’.

  Or had she? If he thought about the vibrator, the pornographic movies, Roch telling him about her desires: if she knew about Kotko’s links to organised crime, if she liked the risk …

  No. If you compared the middle-aged Russian with his little teeth and the slicked-back hair with Egan Roch. It couldn’t be.

  If she said ‘no’ to Kotko, was that a motive for murder?

  Would she have opened the door for him?

  That was the big question.

  Maybe. If he was of economic value to her. Or to Silberstein Lamarque.

  In Roeland Street his reverie was interrupted when Nyathi phoned.

  ‘Benny, we’re sending Bones with you to Jo’burg.’

  He understood immediately. It was better like that. In the circumstances, a black detective was much more politically correct.

  His dress options were limited. He hadn’t done laundry since last week, thanks to the investigation, and sleeping over at Alexa’s. His entire life was in disarray. And for how many days should he pack?

  He took out his battered case. He hated the thing, too many bad memories – it was the one he had carried when Anna had kicked him out of the house back then. It was distressing that he could fit his life into a suitcase so easily. It had been the darkest of times: the withdrawal symptoms after more than a decade of drinking. Homeless, rudderless, hopeless, alone.

  But not irretrievably lost.

  And look at him now. Still standing.

  He packed all his clean clothes. Pulled on his new jacket, so that he wouldn’t embarrass his Cape colleagues when he was in Gauteng.

  Then he phoned Alexa to tell her.

  ‘What’s your problem?’ Cupido asked Hannes Pruis.

  They sat in the smallest DPCI office that Cupido could find, in battered chairs. Pruis sat with his back to the door, Cupido only half a metre away, his face as close as possible to the lawyer.

  ‘My problem?’ Pruis asked indignantly, but the arrogance of yesterday was gone. The man was tense.

  ‘Yes. Your problem. Captain Griessel asked you about the communists. Yesterday I asked again, you and your lawyer buddies, but you knew nothing. Must have thought we’re a bunch of fuckin’ nitwit cops, who would never find out about Kotko.’

  ‘It really isn’t necessary to swear.’

  ‘So now you decide what’s necessary? You, who lie without blinking an eye, while it’s one of your people who gets nailed with a moerse iron blade? Where’s your morality? Where’s your conscience? Or do you trade it in when you get your lawyering licence?’

  ‘Kotko is not a communist.’

  ‘That’s your defence? The best you can do?’

  Pruis moved his hands helplessly. ‘But he isn’t. He’s a businessman. A capitalist …’

  ‘You are pretty pathetic. Where did they meet, Kotko and Sloet?’

  ‘In Johannesburg.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Friday seventeenth December.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Hanneke and I attended an Ingcebo meeting in Johannesburg. There was a cocktail party afterwards, in the Radisson Blu in Sandton.’

  ‘That’s a hotel?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who all was there?’

  ‘People from all the parties involved. Ingcebo, Gariep, SA Merchant Bank, the other legal firms …’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Kotko was also there. With a few politicians.’

  ‘Which politicians?’

  ‘Youth League people. Edwin Baloyi. A few others.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Then Kotko saw Hanneke. He came and talked to her, and—’

  ‘Why?’

  Pruis shrugged. ‘Why do you think? Hanneke was an attractive woman.’

  ‘So he wanted to chat her up?’

  ‘That’s how it looked.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘I was standing beside Hanneke.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘When he heard what she did, he said he wanted to buy a share in Gariep on behalf of a client, and whether we would be interested in handling the contract.’

  ‘And you obviously said: Yes, please.’

  ‘It’s what we do, Captain. We handle contracts.’

  ‘Who was his client?’


  ‘Magadan Zoloto. The Russian mining house.’

  ‘When did you find out Kotko was Russian?’

  ‘That evening.’

  ‘In Johannesburg.’

  ‘Sandton.’

  ‘Now there’s a difference?’ Pruis did not react.

  ‘And when did you discover he’s organised crime?’

  ‘According to our due diligence ZIC was clean.’

  ‘And Magadan?’

  ‘The allegations against Mr Arseny Egorov are just that. Allegations.’

  ‘Oh. So it’s mister Egorov. When did you hear about the allegations about him.’

  ‘On Monday.’

  ‘What Monday?’

  ‘The twentieth of December.’

  ‘Did Hanneke Sloet tell you Kotko phoned her that Saturday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And on the Monday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did he say to her?’

  ‘He told her he was coming to Cape Town, he wanted to take her out to dinner.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  ‘She said her schedule was full. She was packing. For the move. And for Christmas with her parents.’

  ‘She told you all that?’

  ‘Yes. She suspected Kotko’s interest was … not necessarily business driven.’

  ‘Business driven. Fuck sakes. And then?’

  ‘Then we invited him to our offices. On Wednesday the twenty-second of December.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘In the morning. Ten to twelve.’

  ‘Despite the fact that you already knew about the organised crime connections?’

  Pruis nodded slightly.

  ‘And he came?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘He gave us a brief to represent ZIC in obtaining a share in Gariep Minerals. We accepted the brief and discussed the cost structure.’

  ‘And how much was in it for you?’ Pruis looked away. ‘How much?’

  ‘Fifteen.’ Reluctant.

  ‘Million?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sweet Jesus. Did you know he phoned her three times that afternoon and evening?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The man was basically stalking her.’