by Tony Park
He blinked a few times, then licked his lips. His face was bathed in the harsh light of the television cameras. ‘Umm, well, off the top of my head, about a hundred and twenty-two times.’
There was an audible murmur in the ranks of assembled journalists.
‘So this is far from an isolated case of Global Resources breaking the law,’ said another reporter.
‘What was that number again, and over what time period?’ Oberholzer asked.
Wellington laughed out loud and slapped his thigh. The girl started and glanced up at him, wide eyed. ‘Nothing,’ he said to her, ‘keep going.’ They were making Loubser say it again so there was no doubt the number was on the record.
‘A hundred and twenty-two times in the past ten years,’ Chris said.
‘Dr Hamilton, did you know that Global Resources has broken the law, and endangered the lives of its workers, on average, once a month over the past decade?’ the reporter from Beeld asked.
The camera panned back to Hamilton. She glanced at Loubser then back down the barrel of the lens. She looked flustered. Wellington wanted to laugh again, but also didn’t want to break the girl’s rhythm as she worked him close to the edge.
‘I’m sure this can be put into perspective,’ Kylie said.
Before she or Loubser could explain, a journalist said: ‘Dr Hamilton, you said in your earlier statement that the matter reported in the press was, quote, “an isolated incident”. Clearly it wasn’t, so were you lying or were you just not aware of what was going on at this mine?’
‘Neither, I just –’
‘Dr Hamilton,’ Oberholzer interrupted, ‘the ANC Youth League’s spokesman said today that your criminal negligence of health and safety at Eureka means the government should reject your plans to mine in the Kruger Park. How confident are you that the environmental impact assessment for the Lion Plains mine will be approved now that your record on pollution monitoring has been made public?’
‘I …’
The television screen returned to the studio, where the pretty anchor woman said to her co-host, ‘Well, Vusi, that looks like a very rattled Dr Kylie Hamilton from the mining company Global Resources. We’ll be watching this story with interest, and also the company’s plans to mine in the greater Kruger Park, which must be looking a little shaky now.’
Wellington closed his eyes and pictured himself back underground, with the Australian mining executive on her knees, in the dirt. He bunched the whore’s hair tighter in his fingers and she moaned compliantly for him.
Yes, Dr Hamilton would like it, though she might protest at first. He might not have to force her at all, once she realised there was no escape.
There were loose ends to be tied up. The traitor, Correia, would have to be eliminated before he could slip across the border into Mozambique. McMurtrie and the woman had seen him, so as long as they were alive he was at risk if he ventured back to Barberton. A car-jacking might be the best way to get rid of them, however Wellington wanted to feel her mouth on him before he killed her.
The smart thing would be for him to melt away and find another mine or another line of work. But he knew Eureka like it was his own. He wanted it all. The mine, the woman, the gold.
He would have it all. He closed his eyes and felt the surge of power from his loins.
*
‘My office, now,’ Cameron said to Chris as they left the boardroom.
Coetzee was escorting the last of the journalists and camera people out of the administration building, a task he seemed to relish. One of the photographers told him to take his hand off his arm.
Kylie followed them into the office which, Cameron realised yet again, was actually not his any more. He struggled to keep his fury in check. ‘Sit down. What the hell were you thinking, Chris?’
Chris held out his hands. ‘Musa said not to lie. Jissus, Cameron, what was I supposed to say?’
‘How about putting it in context?’
‘OK, let’s everyone cool it,’ Kylie said. ‘Cameron, to be fair to Chris, you don’t know how strenuous it is facing the media until you’ve had to do it.’
He shook his head. ‘I have had to do it. But the way that just went makes it looks like we’ve got a serial problem with air quality.’
‘Have you?’ she asked.
God, she could be infuriating, he thought. ‘No. Whenever we do get an elevated reading we report it and fix whatever’s caused it. What you should have said,’ Cameron fixed Chris with his gaze, ‘was that three weeks of those readings came from when the ventilation system in number two shaft was down. We stopped mining and sent workers down in breathing apparatus to fix it, but the whole time we continued to do air quality monitoring and report the findings to the DMR. No one was breaking any laws and no one was at risk. Why on earth didn’t you say that?’
Chris looked sheepish. ‘They didn’t give me time. I was nervous. I felt like an impala in a spotlight.’
‘I’ll get Musa to issue a statement of clarification,’ Kylie said. ‘Chris, I want you to talk to him and give him all the facts and put it all in context.’
‘Ja, all right.’
‘Hell, it won’t do any good. The vultures have got their headline already. 120 BREACHES AT KILLER MINE, or something like that,’ Cameron said. ‘At this rate we’ll be out of business before the end of the year.’
There was a knock at the door. Coetzee opened it and walked in. ‘The criminal miner is asking if he and his wife can leave now.’
Cameron stood and said to Chris, ‘Get on the phone to Musa now. I’ll see Luis off.’
He walked out into the corridor where Luis and Miriam were waiting. Luis had changed out of his Global Resources shirt and into a plain one. It was another of Cameron’s that he had brought from home. He held out his hand and Luis took it, touching his own right forearm with his left in a gesture that said thank you very much.
‘I’m sorry you have to leave us, Luis.’
He nodded, and Cameron saw the sadness in his eyes. ‘I am sorry, too, but I have been away from my family for too long. I think it is time that I went home.’
He knew how Luis felt. He had left Jessica in the care of his neighbours for too long. He clapped Luis on the arm. ‘Thank you.’
‘Obrigado. If you come to Inhambane, please look for me. Here is my Mozambican cellphone number.’ He handed Cameron a piece of paper.
‘We’ll be sorry to lose your husband,’ Cameron said to Miriam. She didn’t seem sad at all that he was leaving South Africa. ‘I’ll get one of our drivers, Sipho, to take you to Nelspruit. You should be able to get a bus or taxi from there to the border.’
‘Obrigado.’ Miriam took his hand in both of hers.
Chris and Kylie came out of Cameron’s old office as he was telling Hannelie to organise Sipho. They all said their goodbyes.
‘Stay safe,’ Cameron said to Luis.
‘You too.’
18
Vusi Khumalo and Danger Maseka were playing pool in a shebeen in Emjindini when the call came through.
‘Sharp, my brother,’ said Danger when Vusi put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered that it was the boss on the line. ‘We are back in business,’ he added when Vusi finished the call.
They drained their Black Labels and went straight to the black Golf GT. Vusi had stolen it a week earlier and it now sported a new colour scheme and plates and dark tinted windows. Vusi felt the adrenaline kick in, out to his fingers and toes as he revved the engine and sent up a fantail of red dirt as they skidded to the tar road. A mangy dog barked and jumped out of their way just in time to save itself. The young men laughed.
Danger lit a spliff and dragged deep before passing it over. Vusi inhaled the marijuana smoke and held it in his lungs, feeling it even out the rush. As he drove, the needle sitting on one-twenty, he reached down between his legs and under the seat for the Colt .45. It was a cannon, and it had been too long since he’d used it.
‘I was wondering,’ said Danger
as he took the spliff back, ‘if we would hear from Wellington ever again.’
Vusi laughed half-heartedly. ‘Don’t ever let him hear you say that, my brother. Just be thankful we are back in business and he has called on us.’
‘Amen.’ Danger tuned in the car radio to some hip-hop, but Vusi reached over and turned it down.
He explained the details of the job to Danger, who lifted his T-shirt and slid out his Glock. Danger thumbed the magazine release, checked his load, then rammed it back home again. He pulled back the slide and released it, chambering a round.
They passed through Barberton and out onto the R38. Both men scanned the road.
‘There he is,’ Vusi said, spying the mine bakkie ahead of them, flying the orange day-glo safety flag from its rear bumper. ‘I knew we would catch them. That Sipho drives like a woman.’
Vusi eased off the accelerator, not wanting to get too close to the truck until it was time. There was too much development on the roadsides around here. He would wait until they were on one of the stretches where the bush grew close to the road.
It would not be an easy hit, but Vusi liked a challenge. And an even bigger challenge would be keeping his boy Danger focused. ‘We go for the rear tyres. Shoot them out, then close in on them when they go off the edge.’
‘No. Just overtake them and cap Sipho.’
Vusi shook his head. ‘Too dangerous. He might roll the bakkie and kill them all. We have our orders. We must do this job correctly, but we must also be fast.’
‘Go past them,’ Danger suggested, ‘and we lay some rubber and stop close to a tree. Make it look like we have crashed. I will flag them down and when Sipho stops and comes to help us, we kill him.’
Vusi knew this was why the boss had called him and not Danger. He took the time to think things through and the dagga made him think clearly, unlike Danger who was turned into even more of a madman by the weed. ‘My brother, if you were Sipho, would you stop for you?’
Danger had to smile at that one. ‘All right. We do it your way.’
*
Luis saw the eyes of Sipho, the cautious driver, flick up once more to the rear-view mirror. Luis, sitting in the back seat of the Hilux next to Miriam, looked over his shoulder. A zippy black Golf with tinted windows was accelerating fast behind them. It came up close to the tailgate.
‘Boys.’ Sipho clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and shook his head.
Luis took his wife’s hand and squeezed it. ‘It is good to be going home.’
‘I can’t say I am unhappy,’ Miriam said.
‘Of course, I don’t have a job any more.’
‘We will manage,’ Miriam said.
As Luis turned his eyes back to the road in front, there was a series of bangs. Luis, who had served during the war, could not mistake the sound for anything else. Sipho, however, was caught unaware and seemed confused. The steering wheel bucked in his hands as the rear of the Hilux slid from side to side.
‘Get down!’ Luis pushed Miriam down with a hand on her shoulder.
Sipho was panicking, overcorrecting. ‘They shot out a tyre, maybe two!’ He eased his foot off the accelerator.
‘Go faster – forget the tyres,’ Luis said.
The Golf sped up beside them and Luis saw the squat black pistol in the passenger’s hand through the wound-down window as the gunman waved at Sipho to pull into the kerb. Sipho eased off the accelerator again.
‘No, don’t stop! Ram him,’ Luis ordered Sipho.
Sipho glanced at him, then at the road. ‘No! These men just want the bakkie. They can have it.’
‘Sipho, listen to me. Those men, they don’t want the bakkie, they want me.’
The driver of the Golf was blowing his horn and his passenger was waving his pistol at them, furiously gesticulating for them to pull over.
‘Eish, they can have you!’ Sipho said, not looking back. The Golf kept pace with them.
‘They won’t leave witnesses. If they kill me they will have to kill you too.’
Miriam looked up at him and grabbed his arm. ‘Luis, what do you mean? Who are these men? You have done nothing wrong.’
Luis swallowed back a rising tide of nausea. His sins were being visited on him, along with his wife and the innocent driver. At least one tyre slapped noisily on the road as the truck continued to slow. Luis lowered his head below the sill of the window and said to Miriam: ‘Listen to me, get ready to jump.’
‘No! I can’t.’
‘You must. It’s our only chance.’
He opened his door just a fraction and got ready to remove his seatbelt. ‘On three, my love.’ He undid her belt and grabbed her forearm.
She looked into his eyes. ‘I am scared.’
‘What are you doing back there?’ Sipho asked, his eyes still alternating wildly between the road ahead and the car beside them.
Luis ignored the driver and clasped his wife’s hand. ‘We will die unless you jump, my love.’
‘All right, I am ready.’ She straightened her torso, readying herself to follow him out of the vehicle.
Luis glanced to the right and saw the mean young face over the top of the pistol. The boy smiled at him, then pulled the trigger. The pistol bucked in his hand twice. Luis flinched and ducked and heard the right rear passenger window shatter. ‘Miriam!’
Sipho winced as broken glass spattered the back of his head. He risked a glance back. ‘No!’
Too late, Sipho accelerated and swung wildly to the left, then back to the right, and the Toyota sideswiped the Golf.
Luis clutched Miriam to him and looked into her wide eyes. She was dead already. Blood oozed from the entry wound on her right temple. The left side of her face was a mass of shattered bone and spilled brains that soaked his shirt. She stared at him accusingly and he knew she would watch him, like that, forever. If it wasn’t for their son he would leap through the broken rear window now and throw himself at the Golf, like a lion on a buffalo.
Reluctantly, Luis laid his wife’s body against the seat, unclipped his seatbelt and opened the door.
Two more gunshots sounded and bullets slammed into the truck’s engine bay. A cloud of steam erupted from the bonnet and washed over the windscreen as Sipho hit the brakes. ‘Where are you going?’ Sipho screamed.
Luis ignored him and leapt out of the slowing bakkie. He hit the gravel verge of the road hard, and rolled, trying to keep his arms and legs tucked in tight as he tumbled. He felt something tear in his side, where the gunshot wound had been stitched. The wound was not as serious as it looked, but he felt blood wetting his shirt as he bounced to a halt by a tree. He got up, drew a ragged breath, and ran into the bush. Tears welled in his eyes as he stumbled on.
*
‘What was that?’ Vusi yelled.
‘What?’ Danger’s eyes were wide and bloodshot with the lust of battle and the residual effects of the marijuana. He had ejected the magazine from his pistol; he was either out of ammunition or had a stoppage.
‘He’s gone,’ Vusi said. ‘And hurry up and reload.’
‘No, he ducked down.’
‘Look, you fool, the passenger door is swinging open.’ Sipho was coasting to a halt. Vusi drew his own pistol for the first time and leaned across Danger, took aim and fired. The first shot missed so he fired again. Danger yelped like a dog at the thunder and flash in the car from the .45’s barrel. The second shot took the top off Sipho’s head. He slumped to the side and the Toyota veered lazily off the road and smacked into a tree.
Vusi pulled over, leapt from the Golf and ran to the bakkie. Steam hissed from the punctured radiator and twisted metal pinged as it cooled. He smelled the blood from inside. He stuck his head in and confirmed what he had seen. ‘Shit, man. He jumped. You should have been paying more attention. And you shouldn’t have shot the woman so soon.’
‘But the boss said –’
‘Shut up, Bright. We have to find the Professor. The boss will kill us if we lose him.’
&nbs
p; ‘Don’t call me that.’ He tapped his chest with the barrel of his Glock. ‘I am Danger. Come, my brother, let’s see what they have in their pockets.’
Vusi shook his head. A poor Mozambican woman dressed in near rags and a mine driver. There would be nothing. He saw the sticker for the satellite tracking service on the remnants of Sipho’s window. They were Wellington’s enforcers, but only part-time car thieves. Vusi had no idea how to find a tracking device. There was the risk Sipho had set off some sort of panic button while they were shooting his tyres out. ‘We can’t stay here.’
Danger was tugging at a ring on the dead woman’s finger. ‘Wait.’ He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a flick knife, releasing the blade.
‘Eish. Come, man.’ Vusi shook his head as Danger began sawing at the dead woman’s finger. ‘The boss …’
Danger glared up at him, his hands slick with blood. ‘Fuck the boss. The Professor is long gone.’ He went back to his cutting.
Vusi ran back down the road to where he thought the Mozambican had jumped from the car. Someone had to follow the boss’s orders.
He turned his mind to the ground, where the answer always lay, as his father had often told him. His father had been a poacher, before he’d died of the wasting disease, and he had taught Vusi much about following spoor. Fleetingly, Vusi had thought about a career as a game ranger, but then he had found work on the mines and from there drifted across to the zama zamas where he could make more money. Wellington had spotted his dedication and ruthlessness – he’d once beaten a fellow worker to death when Wellington ordered the punishment, and had since used his .45 to cap a rival gangster from Johannesburg who had tried to rip Wellington off during an arms deal.
Vusi found the scuffed dirt where the man had rolled from the car and hit the ground. From there it was easy to see the path he had trodden through the bush. He held his Colt at the ready and was about to set off when his cellphone vibrated in his pocket. He stopped and looked at the screen and saw the number of the Mozambican pre-paid sim card.
‘Yebo boss?’
‘Is it done?’
‘Ah …’