The Soldier who Said No
Page 33
Henderson caught up with De Villiers outside. ‘Wait,’ he said.
De Villiers stopped in mid-stride, his hand in the air ready to grab the handle of the driver’s door.
‘Why didn’t you shoot him?’ Henderson asked.
‘Shoot whom?’ De Villiers asked, his head at an angle. ‘Shoot Robert Mugabe,’ Henderson said in a low voice which carried only as far as De Villiers.
De Villiers turned to face Henderson. It took time for him to find his voice.
‘He wasn’t a soldier,’ he said at last.
‘That’s not what they told me in Pretoria,’ Henderson insisted.
‘Pretoria lies.’
Henderson shrugged. ‘Maybe so. What did you do for the medal they gave you?’
De Villiers took a step backward so that his torso obscured Emma’s view completely.
‘I shot someone,’ he said, surprised at the ease with which he was able to make the admission.
‘A woman,’ Henderson stated without fear of contradiction.
De Villiers took a deep breath. ‘A Russian soldier,’ he said.
Henderson nodded. ‘Colonel Nankova, at over a kilometre,’ he said.
‘You mean, at Nankova?’ De Villiers asked.
‘No,’ Henderson said. ‘She was a colonel and her name was Nankova.’
‘Who told you that?’ The question had come out more harshly than intended.
‘Pretoria,’ Henderson said without elaborating.
For a time neither man spoke.
De Villiers took his escape in another topic. ‘Why didn’t you support the charges against me? You didn’t give any evidence to the committee.’
Henderson smiled. ‘Kupenga may be an asshole, but he was ready to withdraw his complaint when we returned to the enquiry. And then the Commissioner stopped the proceedings, as you saw.’
‘Come on Dad, we want to go,’ Zoë called from the back seat.
‘Who told you?’ De Villiers asked a second time.
Henderson hesitated before he spoke. ‘General Vandenburg.’
A bus roared past drowning out their voices.
‘I have to go,’ De Villiers said. He pointed at the manila envelope in Henderson’s hand. ‘The answer to the Prime Minister’s case is in your hand, Sir, but there’s still a lot of tidying up to do.’
I know,’ Henderson said, ‘but once we have them in custody, they are bound to break ranks and we’ll play them against each other, as we always do.’ He held out his right hand. They shook hands briefly.
De Villiers pointed at the manila envelope a second time. ‘You were right about something stirring in the South African community.’
‘I know,’ Henderson said.
De Villiers hesitated. ‘When you arrest him, I would like you to give him a message.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I want you to tell him that this,’ De Villiers touched the envelope, ‘this is for Jacques Verster.’
Henderson took a pen from his pocket. ‘Who?’
De Villiers took the envelope from Henderson and wrote:
This is for Jacques Verster – 4 Recce
From: The soldier who said no
De Villiers handed the envelope back to Henderson. ‘Thanks.’
‘I want you at the office soonest,’ Henderson said over his shoulder and started turning towards the hotel.
‘Sir,’ De Villiers called after him.
Henderson turned and faced De Villiers. ‘Yes?’
From the height of the driver’s seat, De Villiers looked down at Henderson. ‘There’s one other thing.’ De Villiers waited for Henderson to nod. ‘It’s in the dossier. That Leatherman is a PST, a 1983 model, and it’s mine, and I want it back once the trial is over.’
‘What makes you think he has it?’
De Villiers chose his words carefully. ‘You’ll find that the arrowhead was made using a steel file, and I think you’ll find that the steel file in that Leatherman matches the file markings on the bone.’
Henderson stood silent for a while, contemplating the outcome. ‘And that should close out the investigation into the attempted assassination of the PM, shouldn’t it?’
When De Villiers didn’t respond, Henderson answered his own question. ‘Yes, I think it would.’
‘I’d better tell the men conducting the searches to look out for it,’ Henderson said. He turned and left with a wave of his hand.
De Villiers watched him dig in his pocket for his cellphone.
De Villiers sat still in the driver’s seat with his hand on the key in the ignition.
‘Are we going, Dad?’ Zoë asked from the back seat.
De Villiers turned and caught Emma studying him. His wife put her hand on his arm.
‘Is your seat belt fastened?’ he said over his shoulder to Zoë.
‘Of course, Dad, I’m not a baby any more!’
‘Let’s go home,’ Emma said softly.
De Villiers put his hand behind Emma’s head and played with her hair, unwilling to let go.
‘It’s time to go home,’ he said and turned the key.
Glossary
balaclava SA English ski mask (used by criminals)
boep Afrikaans pot belly (short for ‘boeppens’)
boerewors Afrikaans sausage
bosbefok Afrikaans shellshocked (military slang)
bossies Afrikaans colloquial abbreviation for bosbefok
braai Afrikaans barbeque
Buffel Afrikaans an armoured troop carrier (literally, a buffalo)
dairy NZ English tearoom, corner café
dominee Afrikaans clergyman, parson
djani !Xun (San) ‘catch the light’ (a children’s game)
footpath NZ English pavement, sidewalk
gemsbok Afrikaans Oryx gazelle
impimpi Zulu turncoat
induna Zulu tribal policeman, supervisor
iwi Maori a Maori tribe
knobkierie SA Eng & Afr stick with a knob of wood or metal at one end
mana NZ standing, presence
pohutakawa Maori New Zealand’s national tree
prospect NZ English junior or neophyte member of a gang
Olifant Afrikaans heavily armoured troop carrier (elephant)
Ratel Afrikaans fast troop carrier, lightly armoured (badger)
Rooivalk Afrikaans attack helicopter (red falcon)
tapu Maori sacred
tarentaal Afrikaans guinea fowl
teheroa Maori large, edible shellfish
tos Afrikaans cheap, tasteless
tramper NZ English backpacker
tsotsi Fanagalo a petty criminal, mugger, pickpocket, thief
tuangi Maori cockles
tuatua Maori small, edible shellfish
waka Maori Maori sea-going canoe
whanau Maori family (extended family)
Acknowledgments
I received a great deal of assistance and advice from the following people, whose contributions I acknowledge and appreciate: my friend and colleague, Adrian Collingwood, who can spot an inconsistency a mile away; my wife, Ansie, who proofread the manuscript more than once; and the doctors, staff and patients of the Durban Oncology Centre, who shared their secrets with me, wittingly and unwittingly.