Blindside

by Wilna Adriaanse

  At the apartment he sat down on the balcony. The light breeze carried the sound of the sea. He thought of everyone he had seen tonight. Replayed the conversations in his mind. It was a strange, complex world, where the most important things were often left unspoken. He didn’t want to think too much about Gabriella, but would think about Clara Veldman for a while. She was neither the first beautiful young girl to set her sights on an older man, nor the first who’d been game for a relationship with a man with Enzio Allegretti’s reputation. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that things might not be that simple. He found himself feeling the pocket where he used to keep his cigarettes. Damn, he missed it. How was he supposed to think without a cigarette in his hand? Quitting now had been a crap idea. Maybe someone had left a packet lying around.

  He got up, but when three drawers failed to yield anything, he went to bed.

  CHAPTER 6

  On her way to the office on Thursday, Ellie looked at the early morning traffic around her. Faces staring straight ahead, heads nodding rhythmically to music. Kids in school uniforms, babies in car seats, on their way to daycare. A familiar road, familiar scenes, but since last week she’d been feeling as if she didn’t real­ly know anything at all. As if every image and event suddenly had nuances she hadn’t been aware of before.

  Possibilities. Borders had shifted. The impossible suddenly seemed possible. No matter how she had relativised death in the past, nothing had prepared her for what it was doing to her mind now. She had a master’s degree in psychology and theoretically understood the process, but at the moment none of the theory applied to her.

  She jumped when a hooter blared next to her. A woman with hair an unnatural shade of auburn raised her middle finger as she drove past. The finger had a long red nail and wore a gold ring. Ellie smiled. That could be the answer. But she feared she didn’t have enough middle fingers to make herself feel better.

  The parking area was still quiet and she was glad she had come early. She wanted to be there before the others arrived. She still felt like an accident scene, with everyone slowing down to look.

  What did you think? she wanted to shout, but she drew back her shoulders and walked through the doors. She nodded at people as far as she went, but didn’t stop to chat. Here and there someone extended a hand, but she kept it to a brief handshake.

  She was grateful when she reached the third floor and it was still quiet.

  Brigadier Andile Zondi’s door was open and Ellie stuck her head in. The brigadier was hunched over her desk and her ample bosom almost rested on the documents in front of her. Her jacket pulled tightly across her shoulders. She was a striking woman with her full lips and short braids. If she could get rid of the chip on her shoulder she’d go far, but she had a habit of tripping herself up.

  “Mac, you’re back. I’m glad. I wish I could say take another day or two, but I need all hands on deck. This thing with Barkov is messy. Your friend Ahmed and his team are pointing fingers at us, and I won’t stand for it.” She sat back in her chair. “We warned them about Barkov and his crew, but they ignored us like a fucking stop sign, as usual.”

  “I’ll start working on it immediately and see if I can find any­thing new.”

  Back at her desk, she looked at the pile of messages. A few were from informers using false names.

  She flipped through the pile. By this time she knew who brought the hard news and who popped up every now and again with a piece of gossip. Today she didn’t have time for the latter. She was looking for facts. Her desk was inundated with files. On her computer were reports and photographs she had meticulously collected over the past eighteen months as their subjects had entered the country and appeared on the radar. Crime syndicates were by no means new in South Africa, as some of her older colleagues kept reminding her. But even they shook their heads at the number that had started pouring into the country after 1994. Everyone was here. The Italians with their Mafia connections, the Chinese triads, the Nigerians, Russians, Koreans, Indians, all of them, not to mention the local guys. No one was here for the natural beauty and the scenery; they didn’t give a damn about politics or the rainbow nation. Money was the only god they worshipped. No natural resource was sacred, no rhino, elephant or human life was worth anything. Abalone was marine gold. Something that had once been a staple for so many was now unobtainable and unaffordable.

  The well-known restaurants in the Orient denied that their aba­lone was illegally imported from South Africa and Australia. They insisted that Japan had the best abalone in the world, while it was common knowledge that Japan’s sources had long been depleted.

  If the war had been waged in some distant country, she wouldn’t have lost sleep over it, but the battles were taking place in suburbs, in business centres, at traffic lights and roadblocks. Without a moment’s thought for innocent bystanders.

  Yesterday’s shooting at a traffic light in Johannesburg was just another example. The victim had connections with a notorious Eastern European crime boss. The forensic team found thirty spent cartridges on the scene. It was a miracle no one else had been wounded or killed.

  She was still looking at her list of informers when Clive Barnard drew up a chair and sat down opposite her. “Howzit?”

  “Fine. You?”

  “Better than you, I reckon. That’s why I’m going to buy you a drink tonight.”

  “Thanks. I’d like that.”

  He looked at the papers on her desk. “I see you’re not wasting time this morning.”

  “It never rains, but it pours. Tell me what I’ve missed.”

  “Give me ten minutes to see what’s on my desk and get a cup of coffee.”

  Ellie was glad when it got busy around her. Someone still dropped in occasionally, but at least she could use the excuse that she was busy.

  “Right, let’s start.” Clive was back and pulled a chair closer again.

  Ellie cleaned the big whiteboard and wrote a name at the top. Alexei Barkov. Beneath it, she wrote the names of the two victims of the shooting.

  She had always liked making lists. When your mom starts drinking when you’re only fourteen, you learn a few tricks to make yourself believe you have a measure of control over the situation. One of those tricks is making lists.

  “We know those two worked for Barkov. The question is: Who shot them and why? Why didn’t they shoot up Barkov’s house? Was it a message? If so, what message were they sending Barkov by shooting up one of his properties and killing two of his men? He’s not a man who’ll take something like that lightly. I’m preparing for bloody vengeance.”

  She began to write again. Enzio Allegretti. Yuang Mang. Nazeem Williams. Abua Jonathan. She stepped back. “My money is on one of these men. Everything I’ve managed to learn about them over the past eighteen months points to a complicated interdependency, but a deadly rivalry.”

  “Anything new on Allegretti?” Clive played with an elastic band as he looked at each of the names in turn.

  “You know as well as I do that his hands are clean. Except for that assault charge the club’s former manager laid against him and a few speeding fines, we’ve got nothing.”

  “And Barkov?”

  “Dozens of rumours, but the only thing that’s ever appeared on a charge sheet was a bit of rough-and-tumble with his girlfriend. As usual, the ink on the charge sheet was hardly dry when she dropped the charge and said she’d lied. It was just a misunderstanding.” Ellie went quiet as she studied the board. “I’ve always said it’s not that they’re so clever – the problem is that they have so many people on their payroll. For how long have we been trying to get evidence? We’re like moles, feeling our way through the dark.” She rose up onto her toes a few times. “And we haven’t even mentioned the militant groups. Do you really mean to tell me our information is so crap that no one knew someone like Samantha Lewthwaite was in the country? Everyone knows we’ve become a stomping ground for Al-­Qaeda, Hamas and Hezbollah to recruit new members and look for financin
g, yet everyone seems surprised that someone on Interpol’s red list has managed to enter the country. It’s ludicrous.”

  “Let’s not depress ourselves completely now. What have I taught you over the years? Always keep the bigger picture in mind, but focus too. At the moment we’re focusing on Barkov.” Clive pointed at the board. “What does your sixth sense say?”

  Ellie stepped closer to the whiteboard and put her finger on Allegretti’s name.

  “Why him?” Clive asked.

  “There’s a rumour doing the rounds that he lost a lot of money at the gambling tables and that, with his extravagant lifestyle, he’s in trouble. Allegretti Senior’s health isn’t what it used to be. He’s been laundering money for a few years now. That was probably the main reason for buying the club in Green Point and getting it up and running again. I suspect he’d like to stop looking over his shoulder in his golden years. Whether Junior shares his father’s vision of the future remains to be seen. If Daddy finds out how much money he’s losing, he might tighten the purse strings and Junior could be left with nothing. The old man may be old now, but he was serious trouble in his youth. He was sent to South Africa for a reason as a young man. Things got too hot for him in Italy.

  “I suspect Junior had to make a lot of money in little time. With Barkov suddenly operating on his turf, it’s getting harder and harder to repay his debt. The old man is old-school, and might have had some boundaries, but it’s a new world and I think the younger Allegretti is trying to show the old man and the rest of the world that he can do it better.”

  “Why do you think the old man doesn’t know what his boy is getting up to?”

  “The younger Allegretti is probably paying a few people to keep his father out the picture.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but my money is on Williams or Mang. It’s their style. Allegretti has too much finesse for an ambush like that.”

  Ellie laughed. “Finesse, indeed. I didn’t know you knew the word.”

  “Don’t underestimate me.”

  “In different circumstances I would also have said it looks like Mang or Williams’s style. Even Jonathan’s, but our handsome Italian friend is in trouble, and a man will do strange things with his back to the wall.”

  “We’ll have to start at the bottom, with some of the foot soldiers. Maybe someone will get nervous enough to talk.”

  She perched on the corner of her desk. “It feels like we just can’t get a break. The bloody files are getting thicker, but there’s always a loophole somewhere.”

  Before they could continue, Ellie’s cellphone rang. She listened for a moment.

  “I’m not coming out in this tearing wind to listen to fairy tales. And if you’ve been drinking, I’ll have you locked up with the 28s.”

  She ended the call.

  “Who are you threatening?” Clive asked.

  “Happy. He says he’s got information.”

  “They can be worse than bloody flies.”

  “How about coming along? Fresh air would do you good.”

  He got to his feet. Ellie picked up her handbag and followed him outside.

  “This wind is enough to make you want to kill someone …” The moment the words were out, he looked at her. “Sorry.”

  She looked through the car window at a cluster of plastic bags blown against a fence, like white and yellow flags. “Forget it. It’s not like you can remove the word from the dictionary.”

  “I know I’m not in a position to talk, but try not to be so angry. It won’t help. He of all people understood the risks of the job.”

  “I know, but being angry gives me something to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The alternative is to live with this gaping hole inside me, and I can’t do that right now.”

  “If you want to be angry at something or someone, I have a few suggestions. From affirmative action appointments who are promoted far beyond their capabilities, to our fucked-up legal system. Or our own department, that’s got no idea what’s going on in its own backyard. And everything in between. It’s a long list.”

  “Will you tell me if you hear anything?”

  “About?”

  “My dad.”

  He gave her a brief glance. “Depends.”

  She sat in silence, gazing at the other vehicles on the road. The traffic on the N1 was heavy and the going was slow.

  Clive changed the subject. “I remember when I was a child there were two peak hours every day. Now it’s peak-hour traffic all day long. It’s ridiculous. Don’t people work any more?”

  “There’s probably a laptop and a smartphone in every car. We are the most well-connected people in the history of the world.”

  “If you ask me, we’re too well connected. Ansie and I went to Struisbaai last weekend. The first time in almost a year. I wanted to do a bit of fishing and enjoy the silence. True as Bob, she was on her cellphone all weekend. If it wasn’t her mom, it was her sister or a friend. And when she finished with them, she called the kids to find out if they were okay. They were only too glad to be on their own for a day or two, but no, she had to be on their case.”

  “It must be hard to raise children today.”

  “The older I get, the worse I sleep, especially when I think about my daughter. Still, you have to get out of the kids’ hair now and again. And it’s not like we left them on their own. They stayed with friends. It’s good for kids to get a look at other families sometimes. They think their own home is the worst and their parents are the cruellest. After a weekend of being on their best behaviour, making their own beds and helping with the dishes, they’re grateful for a while.”

  Ellie smiled. “Did you manage to enjoy the weekend in the end?”

  “I pried her away from the phone for long enough on Saturday night for a bit of a cuddle.”

  She laughed and looked at him. His blond hair was thinning. There was a bulge over his belt that hadn’t been there before and when they’d had to go for their mandatory fitness exercises he’d griped for a few days in advance. Clive was one of the few people she would trust with her life.

  Under the flyovers in the city centre they turned left into Christiaan Barnard and continued to Sir Lowry Road.

  Ellie pointed to the right. “He’s waiting at the Eastern Food Bazaar.”

  He turned. “Really! Gone are the days when they were happy with half a loaf and a packet of red viennas.”

  They found Happy at a table in the Turkish section. He smiled when he saw them.

  “Aweh! Nice of you to come.” He held up a fist and Ellie pressed her own against it. Clive ignored the greeting.

  “What’s with him? Looks like he’s got heartburn.” Happy looked towards Clive. “Cherry giving you grief?”

  “Enough with the wisecracks. What have you got for us?” Clive sat down facing Happy and Ellie.

  “Eish, what’s going on? Must I sit here and talk on an empty stomach?”

  “What do you want?” Ellie got up. “Keep talking. I’ll order.”

  “To start with, a schwarma …”

  “This isn’t a dinner date. No starters. What are you drinking?” Clive said.

  “Hey, bra, you’re difficult today. Make it a Coke.”

  She looked at Clive but he shook his head.

  When she returned to the table a few minutes later with Happy’s food, he and Clive were in the middle of an argument.

  “You don’t understand how dangerous this job is. If they find out I’m talking to the Boers, I’d be lucky if they only cut my throat.”

  Clive took the food from Ellie and got to his feet. “Come, he’s got nothing.”

  “Speak to the man. I was just warming up.”

  Clive sat back down. “Warm up faster. We don’t have all day.”

  Happy cast a longing look at the food, but Clive shook his head. “First, we talk.”

  “Last Friday I was at my auntie’s pozzy in the Hill when I saw a guy who was at school with me. Hangs
out with my cousin these days. Fancy, even drives a car. He must have bought the licence – he wasn’t too bright at school. Anyway, he tells me he’s working for Mr Williams himself. The problem is once you start showing off, you can’t keep your mouth shut any more. I acted dumb and he took the floor. As an encore he spoke about the big move they’re pulling. His eyes went all glassy and I could see the dollar signs.”

  “What move?”

  “Nei, he was a bit smarter than that. He didn’t say.”

  Clive began to get up, the food still in his hand. “You’re wasting our time.”

  Happy looked at Ellie. “Every little bit is important, you said. Now you’re being nasty. It’s not fair.”

  Ellie took the food from Clive and put it in front of Happy. “What do you know about the shooting at Milnerton?

  “Only what the papers said. I don’t hang around there.”

  “I know, but you know a lot of people. Someone might have said something.”

  Happy chewed in silence for a while, then shook his head. “You know I don’t love that Russian and his rubbish. They’re a bunch of mother—”

  Clive aimed a blow at him. “Watch your tongue.”

  “What I mean is, I stay far away from them. They’re a scary bunch.”

  “It can’t do any harm to talk to your contacts. I’m sure someone knows something.” Ellie rose to her feet. “Call me when you’ve got something.”

  “I will, but come alone next time.” He ducked when Clive got up as well.

  “Do you believe him?” Clive asked when they got into the car.

  “I know he’s dead scared of the Russians, so I believe him when he says he stays away from them.”

  “That doesn’t mean he hasn’t heard anything. He has a lot of contacts. These guys who sell the papers, they see and hear things. They act dumb when it suits them.”