The Top Prisoner of C-Max

by Wessel Ebersohn

  ‘Some of them should not be paroled, ma’am.’

  ‘I also heard that you have very fixed views and are not easily dissuaded.’

  Yudel looked into the minister’s serious eyes and sighed. What she was saying was probably true. ‘I was thinking particularly of a convict called Oliver Hall.’

  ‘Inmate,’ the minister chided. ‘Didn’t you see the memo instructing all staff to refer to them as inmates, not convicts?’

  ‘Yes, I saw it. I should have said “an inmate called Oliver Hall”.’

  The minister’s jaw seemed to tighten. ‘I know of the case.’

  ‘He killed both during and after the end of apartheid, but confessed at the Truth and Reconciliation hearings and was cleared. And he may have killed again since then.’

  ‘There’s nothing in his file to that effect.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Mr Gordon, you and I may not like this man, but he has been sentenced and has served a fair part of his sentence. You have to understand that influential people feel that, given his history, he should be granted amnesty. The matter is out of my hands. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, I do. But there is another side to this.’

  ‘And that is?’ The minister’s way of enunciating her words was becoming more clipped.

  Yudel knew that he was trying her patience, but he was not finished yet. ‘He’s going to kill again – probably often, until we get him back inside. In my view, there is a certain class of prisoner – I mean inmate – who should never be released. Not because of what he did, but because of what he is and will do again. I’m concerned that we may have to explain the reason for his release to the families of his future victims.’

  In a quick movement, she turned her head away. An abrupt wave of her left hand indicated that this was not something she wanted to hear. ‘I have seen no evidence that we will have to explain anything. What hard evidence is there?’

  Yudel knew that this was a battle he could not win, but he was unable to stop. ‘None. But I have dealt with many such cases.’

  ‘I know that he has gone seriously astray, that he started mixing with criminals, but he has been punished for it. Since the Truth and Reconciliation hearings, he has only been guilty of armed robbery.’ The minister’s indignation was growing by the moment.

  Yudel knew that the minister had her orders and it was impossible for her to agree. ‘I believe that he’s a violent psychopath. I believe that there are killings we don’t even know about. Such people don’t change, not ever. He’s been waiting for the opportunity to kill again. Placing him on parole is giving him that opportunity.’

  Again the wave of a hand jettisoned what Yudel was telling her to the realm of unwanted information. ‘Mr Gordon, as far as Hall is concerned, this is just your opinion and you don’t seem to have any basis for it.’

  A moment ago, you were asking for my opinion, Yudel thought.

  ‘In any event, I understand you put him through our psychopath programme and he passed with flying colours.’

  ‘Madam Minister, the truth is that no such programme, being applied anywhere on earth, can be relied on. They just don’t always work. One might say that they don’t usually work. I believe Hall used the political struggle to kill without personal responsibility.’

  ‘Nothing can be done about Hall and, as far as I’m concerned, nothing needs to be done. He has to be released in two days.’

  Yudel looked at the minister and wondered how well their new relationship was going to function. Suddenly she smiled. ‘Your first name is Yudel. What does it mean?’

  ‘As I understand it, it means my little man, more specifically, my little Jew.’

  ‘My little Jew,’ she repeated. ‘Well, you’re not very big.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  Her face again became serious. ‘You were in the Department of Prisons, as it was called in those days, throughout the struggle years?’

  She already knew the answer and, whatever use he would be to her in future, this would always be the barrier between them. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Were you ever present when someone was tortured?’

  ‘Once, but not in a prison. It took place in an office of the security police. The victim died.’

  The look on the minister’s face hardened. ‘Who was the victim?’

  ‘An activist by the name of Thandi Kunene.’ Yudel knew that he had tried to save her, but he had always felt that perhaps he had not tried hard enough, and certainly not soon enough. To try to explain his role to the minister now was beyond him.

  ‘Oh my God, I met her once. You were there?’

  ‘Yes. I also appeared before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. I told the story then.’

  ‘I’ll read it,’ the minister said.

  ‘I hope you get the chance, ma’am.’

  ‘Because you’re on my staff, I’ll make the chance.’

  On his way out, Yudel paused in the passage outside the minister’s office.

  He ran a hand across his forehead and found he had been sweating. Damn, he thought, that could have gone better. He wondered if she already regretted his new contract.

  THREE

  ROSA GORDON’S dinner parties were modest attempts to fulfil what she thought of as the duty of the wife of a prominent man. She liked to think of Yudel as a prominent man. ‘But I’m not,’ he had told her on a number of occasions.

  ‘You’re more prominent than you realise,’ she always replied.

  On this occasion, she had invited the minister’s chief of staff and his girlfriend (‘It’ll do no harm to be friendly with him,’ she said), the editor-in-chief of a chain of newspapers, Robert Mokoapi, and his new wife (he had been married to Abigail Bukula, with whom Yudel had worked closely in the past, so Rosa felt that no matter how much they liked Abigail, they should show that the divorce made no difference to them), her sister and the sister’s husband (‘A business couple always provides a nice balance’) and Rosa’s father and his girlfriend (‘I wish they’d get married,’ she told Yudel).

  ‘Do you think it’s a good idea to invite Dad and Mabel?’ Yudel asked when Rosa shared her plans with him.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, Dad’s behaviour can be a little eccentric.’

  Rosa looked hurt. ‘Shame on you, Yudel. Your behaviour is also sometimes a little eccentric, more than a little, I should say, and I never complain.’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned, he’s always welcome.’ Yudel was back-pedalling vigorously. ‘I just thought with the visitors …’ He left it there. It seemed better not to finish the sentence.

  Yudel had spent the day moving into his new office. He had brought a car load of reports, files, books, CDs and departmental manuals from his old office inside C-Max. By the end of the day, he felt almost at home, despite being on the same floor as the minister and her core team. He told the chief of staff that, and the other man had laughed. ‘You’re now part of that core team too, you know.’

  By the time Yudel got home, all the guests were already present. Rosa met him in the hallway. ‘How could you be late tonight, Yudel? Everyone’s here. Really, I can’t believe the things you do.’

  ‘They’re early, aren’t they?’

  ‘No. You’re late. Don’t you know what the time is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s nearly half past seven.’

  Yudel went straight into the living room to make a round of apologies, but he need not have bothered. The guests were scattered around the room, some seated and others standing. Rosa’s dad, ninety years old and full of the confidence that had returned to him with winning the affection of Mabel and three tots of ten-year-old whiskey, had control of the situation. ‘Never touch the stuff,’ he was saying. His voice had dropped an octave below its normal pitch. ‘I never touch the stuff.’ Each declaration was accompanied by the bold sweep of an arm. The faces around the room, especially Robert’s, all looked amused. Yudel considered that they may have looked
even more amused if they had known about the bell Rosa had to attach to the key of the liquor cabinet to keep Dad out.

  Robert waved at Yudel in greeting, but he addressed Dad. ‘I wish I could say the same, Morrie, but I need my sundowner to keep me going.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Hymie, Yudel’s brother-in-law.

  ‘I’ll tell you another thing,’ Dad started. He was getting into his stride. ‘Let me tell you this …’ Robert’s grin was broadening to the extent that his perfect set of even white teeth was on display.

  Yudel seized the opportunity to slip into the kitchen. This time Rosa looked glad to see him. ‘Here, Yudel. Help to take in the oysters. We’ll have them before we sit down to dine. Start taking them through.’

  ‘There aren’t plates.’

  ‘We’ll serve them in the shells,’ Rosa said.

  ‘Is that the thing to do?’

  ‘Of course it’s the thing to do.’

  Yudel took the tray from Rosa and set off for the living room. Robert’s new wife was close to the door so she was first to be served. She made a little movement that was almost a curtsy as she took the oyster from him. She had hesitated a moment, probably also uncertain about the absence of plates. Rosa’s sister followed, then Dad, and after him, Mabel, who was seated next to him.

  Yudel was turning to refill the tray when Dad screamed, the sound immediately followed by the crash of one hard surface against another. Yudel found him clutching his throat, his oyster shell spinning across the tiled floor.

  In a moment, Yudel was at his side, holding one of his arms, as if at a time like this support must be essential. ‘Yudel,’ Dad gasped, ‘the bastard thing’s alive, I swear to God. It’s wriggling around inside me.’

  Hymie had been raising his whiskey glass to his lips when Dad’s scream interrupted the movement. Yudel snatched the glass from him. ‘Swallow this down,’ he told Dad.

  ‘Maybe the Heimlich manoeuvre will get it out,’ the chief of staff suggested.

  ‘It’s the wrong channel for that,’ Yudel said.

  The chief looked affronted. ‘You won’t know for certain until you try.’

  Dad had followed Yudel’s instructions, emptying the glass of whiskey and ice in a single swallow. ‘Thanks, Yudel. Will that kill it?’

  ‘No,’ Yudel said. ‘But after that it’ll be so smashed it’ll curl up and give you no further trouble.’

  Mabel took one of Dad’s hands in hers. ‘It’s all right, Morrie,’ she said. ‘It’s fine now.’

  ‘Christ,’ Hymie murmured to Yudel. ‘Is it always like this around the old guy now?’

  ‘Not always,’ Yudel said. ‘Quite often though. Can I get you a new drink?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ Hymie said. ‘I can really use it now.’

  Entertaining had never been a human activity in which Yudel had revealed much skill or showed much enthusiasm. Small talk, the chattering about trivia that passed for conversation in most such dinner gatherings, was not something he understood. Where do you find the subject matter, he often wondered, when there is no subject matter?

  On this occasion, Yudel did not need to be concerned though. Dad’s surprising intervention had lifted the spirits of everyone, including the minister’s chief of staff.

  While Robert amused himself by engaging Dad on the preparation of seafood, his new wife was looking uncertainly between the two of them, not convinced that Robert’s merriment was entirely seemly. She was a pretty young woman by the name of Thandi, who smiled when she found anyone looking at her. Yudel judged her to be in her mid-twenties. He had been placed next to her and was aware that she had hardly spoken since they arrived. ‘So where did you meet Robert?’ he asked.

  ‘I was one of his reporters,’ she whispered.

  ‘Oh.’ Yudel accompanied the word with a series of nods. He had seen television interviewers do that to encourage the one they were interviewing. ‘What was your turf?’

  ‘My turf?’

  ‘Your speciality? Politics, entertainment, sports, labour?’

  She looked down at her plate. ‘Oh no, Doctor Gordon. I was just a general reporter.’

  ‘I’m just Mr Gordon,’ Yudel said. ‘But please call me Yudel.’

  ‘Yes.’ She seemed almost ashamed of her awkwardness.

  ‘Were you going out long before you got married?’

  ‘Not very.’ She glanced shyly at Yudel. ‘I never dreamed I’d marry someone like Robert.’

  Further down the table, Rosa was talking to her father. ‘Dad, please put your shoe back on.’

  ‘I’m showing Robert,’ Dad said.

  ‘What are you showing Robert?’

  ‘It’s all right, Rosa,’ Robert said. ‘We’re just enjoying ourselves.’ Judging by the breadth of his grin, that was true.

  ‘I’m showing him that my shoes are made by Armani,’ Dad said.

  Rosa snorted audibly. ‘Original Armani imitations from Vietnam.’

  From the other side of the table, Hymie was trying to attract Yudel’s attention. ‘Rosa tells me that she’s got you onto a homeopathic remedy for your diabetes.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Yudel said, trying to keep his voice neutral. To show Rosa that he thought the treatment was not working might encourage her to search for other remedies, a course that he wanted to avoid.

  ‘So, is it working?’

  Yudel became aware that this was one of the moments when the company had fallen silent to hear his response. He glanced at Rosa and met her eyes. What the hell, he thought. ‘It seems to be doing very well,’ he said.

  Rosa smiled.

  ‘Your readings come down since then?’ Hymie persisted.

  Rosa was still watching Yudel. ‘Tending downwards,’ Yudel said.

  ‘Tending?’ Hymie smirked.

  ‘Of course it’s working,’ Rosa told her brother-in-law. ‘I have complete faith in homeopathy.’

  ‘Of course.’ Hymie grinned. ‘What about Yudel? Has he got complete faith in homeopathy?’

  Yudel pretended not to hear the question. ‘Where did you grow up?’ he asked Thandi.

  Rosa too changed the subject. ‘I’ve been going to wonderful lectures on Buddhism,’ she told her brother-in-law. ‘I’m becoming a Buddhist. It doesn’t conflict with our religion.’

  ‘God help us,’ Hymie said.

  Later that evening, Robert manoeuvred Yudel out to the narrow terrace that overlooked Rosa’s garden. He was a tall, loose-limbed man who looked as if he could have been a sports star rather than a newspaper editor. He had been relaxed and jovial all evening. Now his face was serious. ‘Do you know how she is? Have you heard anything from her?’

  Yudel did not need to ask who he was talking about. ‘No, I’ve had no contact with Abigail.’

  ‘I need to make contact with her.’

  Yudel shrugged. The matter had nothing to do with him.

  ‘You know about the political killings in Mpumalanga?’

  ‘I’ve read about them in your paper.’ He thought about Oliver Hall, his impending release and the prison rumour that he had been responsible for one of the early Mpumalanga killings.

  ‘One of my people has come upon something that implicates senior politicians. I want to hand it to someone who will not allow it to be filed away and forgotten.’

  ‘That sounds like Abigail.’

  ‘But you haven’t seen her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes, you have, or yes, you haven’t?’

  ‘Yes, I haven’t.’

  ‘Not since our divorce?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You haven’t even spoken to her since then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t understand you, Yudel.’

  And I don’t understand you, Yudel thought. You were married to the most brilliant and stimulating woman, possibly the most attractive you were ever going to meet all your life, and you exchanged her for that sweet little nonentity, and you say that you cannot understand me. And now you’re ea
ten up by the need to know how she is. ‘Why?’ Yudel asked.

  Robert knew what he was asking. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s because she’s so damned independent. She insisted on keeping her own surname and, at heart, I’m quite a traditional Zulu. She was following her career and I was following mine. We didn’t see each other that often and I wanted a wife. Thandi is always there when I need her. She has no career ambitions and no emergencies that take her away from me. She doesn’t want to change the world. She only wants to look after me. I know it sounds selfish, but that’s what I want in a woman.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Don’t do that.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Don’t use that superior psychologist tone on me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You don’t understand me, do you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Yudel saw that Robert was looking seriously at him. ‘Yes, I don’t,’ he expanded his answer.

  Robert’s expression had changed. ‘It may also have been that I never had the link with her that you had.’

  ‘I was never—’ Yudel started.

  But Robert interrupted him. ‘I know you were never lovers. But there were times when you would start a thought and she would complete it, and vice versa. And not simple thoughts either. You have something with Abigail that I’ve never experienced with any woman, or any other human being for that matter. What does Rosa say about it?’

  ‘We’ve never discussed it.’

  ‘And yet, despite this thing, you weren’t lovers. It drove me crazy.’

  ‘Jesus, Robert.’

  ‘That’s what she would say if I told her this.’

  After the guests had left, Yudel went to his study. He had assured Rosa he would not be more than an hour. Just a few small matters needed his attention.

  Seated at his desk, amidst the barely organised chaos of his study, he switched on the computer. It would be best to make a pretence of dealing with the fictitious matters that he had told Rosa needed his attention.

  The real matters that were pursuing themselves through his mind seemed impervious to any action he could take. Robert’s need to contact Abigail about the killings in Mpumalanga had surprised him. In the last twelve years, many fairly prominent members of the ruling party had been murdered in the province. According to rumour, another faction of the same party was responsible. He wondered how Oliver Hall’s release might affect the longevity of Mpumalanga politicians.