Allegiance (19 page)

‘Sorry, Mariam. It’s the adult company thing. Kids during the day, and at night, well, my husband isn’t the chatty type.’ Her shoulders slumped as the excitement died away. ‘Didn’t mean to keep you. But let’s meet again sometime soon and have a good chat, how about that?’

‘That would be lovely. I’ll look forward to that.’

It was about the only thing she had to look forward to, she thought.

‘You know it takes twenty-four hours for your kidneys to process one grain of coffee?’

Durant took another sip. ‘Really?’

‘Only trying to help; your health is my concern.’

Horizons restaurant was busy that Friday afternoon, and Durant and Shabalala had only managed to find a table close to a group of revellers and they had difficulty hearing each other speak. They were talking intelligence business, they couldn’t exactly shout.

‘If the sheikh’s working for Indian Intelligence, he might as well be working for the Americans,’ Durant said thoughtfully, ‘so why are they asking
US
for info? Their man is right there?’

Shabalala shook his head. ‘The Americans are masters of black ops. Maybe they’ve set up the sheikh as a moderate voice to counter some of the more radical voices in Islam.’

‘It’s not working, is it?’ Durant felt he was shouting to make himself heard. ‘The threat to the Yanks came right out of his territory.’

‘Maybe he’s a double agent, playing the Indians and Americans, secretly plotting evil in his room at night.’

Durant sipped his coffee. ‘You know, I sometimes think we’d be better off if these foreign agencies didn’t get so involved. It just adds to our workload.’

‘Now Suleiman’s his handler – if we can prove he’s engaging in espionage, we can counter that, by law I mean. He’s not declared.’

‘It’s not up to us. That decision’s taken way up. Maybe our government won’t want to upset the Indian government too much. Remember, South Africa’s got the second-largest Indian population outside of India.’

‘And we can’t risk the possible economic damage if India decides to disinvest or—’

‘It’s a mess, Ced,’ Durant interrupted, ‘and we’re in the middle of it. The best bet I guess is to cooperate with the Indians and get a share of the information.’

The noise from the revellers was now intolerable.

‘Still useful having Ruslan, though.’

Durant leaned closer to hear. ‘Sorry?’

‘Still need to keep Ruslan.’

‘For sure. Two sources are better than one. Ruslan might even be more in touch with what’s happening at the centre. The sheikh’s probably a bit out of touch driving around in that fancy car with cases full of money in the boot.’

‘Sure, and Ruslan’s not costing us anything. Can we get out of this noise pollution now?’

The Volvo was heading south, towards the airport, although this wasn’t the intended destination. Khalid’s aim was to take Mariam for a curry at a favourite restaurant and then work in a romantic walk along the beach at around sunset. He was driving fast because he was angry and he had already discarded the idea of the beach walk. After Mariam’s initial silence and then her impetuousness, the restaurant stop also seemed like a futile exercise.

‘Why so defensive?’ Khalid asked, his hand gripping Mariam’s wrist tightly.

‘You’re hurting me, Imraan.’

‘I asked you a question. Why the excuses? I’ve been phoning you since Monday to see me.’

Mariam bit her bottom lip in a gesture that would have been attractive under different circumstances. ‘I’m sorry; I’ve just had so much to do.’

Khalid released his grip and decelerated his Volvo, taking the ramp off the freeway.

‘I want to spend more time with you, and you disappear, your mobile’s off and you’re not around. I’m very upset.’

‘I said I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t you want this friendship? Do you want me to treat you like a street tramp, because that’s what you are?’

Mariam was silent, but inside she was raging.

‘You want to go on with your own life? You’re stressing me out. Is there someone else?’

‘Just you, Imraan, don’t worry.’

‘Then why this? You must stop it, you’re upsetting me. If you want to go back to the street, I’ll take you there now.’

‘I value our friendship.’

‘You value our friendship? Then why do you treat me like garbage? Why do you avoid me, not take my calls? I don’t do that to you.’

‘I didn’t do it deliberately. I just didn’t feel well; I was in bed.’

‘But then call me, tell me, I can help you, bring you medicine. Don’t push me away.’

‘I didn’t want to bother you.’

‘Listen to me very carefully. I care for you. You know that. That’s my nature; I want to be there for you, if you’ll let me.’

‘Sorry I disappointed you, I’ve had a lot on my mind.’

‘Then share it, Mariam. That’s what I want, you understand me?’

Mariam nodded. Two men. Both bad. She felt sick to her stomach.

‘I trust you, my dear,’ Khalid said, ‘completely.’ He took a set of keys from the cubbyhole and pressed it into her hand. ‘The keys to my apartment. You’re welcome there any time, day or night. That’s how much I trust you.’

Mariam put the keys in her bag knowing that she would never use them.

Durant turned the Land Rover into Crescent Street and pointed at a double-storey house behind a high wall.

‘That’s where Mr Suleiman stays, apparently. Looks a bit run down.’

Shabalala nodded in agreement. ‘Maybe the Indians don’t pay their staff well. I was expecting something looking more like the Taj Mahal.’

‘Budget cutbacks, I guess. And I suppose he’s also trying to blend in with the local population.’

‘Well, he’s got himself a good agent in the sheikh. The Indians must know everything there is to know about the centre.’

Durant swung the Land Rover back onto the main road and headed back to the office. ‘It’s annoying, because we don’t know much. Let’s do a trash run on the centre, see what comes up.’

‘Forget it.’ Shabalala showed Durant an open hand. ‘That’s one thing I don’t do, scratch in other people’s rubbish.’

‘Rubbish yields good intelligence.’

‘Forget it, Kevin; you’re by yourself on that one. No, definitely not.’

‘Come on, Ced, think operationally. We’ll wear gloves and we’ll wash our hands afterwards.’ Durant said it with a chuckle. He was enjoying watching Shabalala getting hot under the collar.

Shabalala shook his head. ‘I’d rather drink a cup of filter coffee from Horizons before I do a trash run. I’m sorry, Kevin, I’m out.’

Durant grinned. ‘It might give us old bank statements, sermon notes, I don’t know, blueprints for making bombs. Let’s do it, man. Let’s go in there tonight and scratch around.’

Shabalala shook his head urgently. ‘In the garbage bins? It’s Wednesday, remember. I’m otherwise occupied tonight.’

‘Tomorrow night then. They collect the bins on Friday, so it’s got to be before then. Come on, be brave. It’ll be the bravest thing you’ve ever done.’

Shabalala looked at his hands and reflected for a moment. ‘Get me one of those biological suits with its own oxygen supply, and I’ll consider it.’

Durant laughed. ‘Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll get Splinters to go in during the day and scavenge around a bit. He looks the part, he must just carry a bag and make like he’s looking for those bits of garbage those guys find useful.’

Shabalala smiled. ‘At least he won’t have to dress up. He can just go as himself.’

It was towards evening and most of the staff had left. Durant went down to his car and pulled out a large shopping bag from the boot, took the lift and went directly to the conference room. Durant met Shabalala there and he poured the contents onto a plastic sheet on the conference table. He pulled on a pair of blue surgical gloves and motioned to Shabalala to do the same.

‘Suit up, we’re going in.’

Shabalala shook his head. ‘It’s hard enough for me just to be in the same room as that stinking pile of rubbish. Please, you go ahead.’

Durant shook his head and smiled. ‘It’s carefully selected rubbish, lovingly picked out from the bins by a connoisseur.’

Shabalala gagged as Durant flipped over a wet piece of paper and carefully opened it.

‘See, our trash run’s already yielded an . . .
ATM
receipt. Okay, that’s useless because there’s no account number on it. What about this?’

Durant sifted through more damp paper and separated a small square object, covered in what appeared to be a green mouldy substance.

‘This guy had some of his jungle oats, chucked the rest of it in the bin and then threw away his
SIM
card.’ Durant wiped it with his gloved hand. ‘Might be useful.’ He slipped it into a plastic bag and continued searching.

‘Here we go, a bunch of computer printouts – expenditure, income, this could be good if we can see around this green slimy substance.’

Shabalala put a handkerchief to his mouth and nose. ‘I think I’m going to throw up, Kevin.’

‘Aw, come on, this is nothing. I’ve seen worse. We had a target once who used a restaurant as a dead drop. Man, the stuff we had to dig through—’

‘Thanks for sharing that. Can we finish here?’

The pages went into the bag. ‘Some personal emails, a prescription for blood pressure tablets and, what’s this? Accounts; look Ced, it’s not the lottery, but there’s stuff here that might help. Splinters did well.’

‘Maybe he even found some old food in there he could eat.’

Durant laughed. ‘Leave him alone. He’s a good guy. It was him or us, so be grateful. Remember, this is the sanitised stuff we’re looking at.’

Amina took the crumbed chicken from the oven and set the dish down on the countertop. She was arranging a bunch of flowers on the dining room table when the front door swung open and her husband entered.

‘The machines were temperamental today, they kept going down. I changed the oil we use; the presses have never been the same.’

‘I cooked you crumbed chicken, I hope you’re hungry.’

‘I could eat. What are the flowers for?’

‘Just to make the table look nice. What did you bring me?’ Amina asked, motioning to the brown parcel in Yusuf’s hand.

‘Not for you. Some samples I have to deliver.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Tonight.’

‘Can’t it wait?’

‘The client’s desperate. It must be tonight.’

‘But you’ve just got home. Look at your overalls.’

‘I know. I own the press and I get the dirtiest of everyone. It’s not right, is it? I’ll go and shower quickly and change.’

‘And dinner?’

‘I’ll have some when I get back. I won’t be long.’

Yusuf went upstairs. Amina waited until she heard the shower water running before she went upstairs.

Yusuf ’s overall and underclothes were lying on the bathroom floor when she entered the steam-filled room. Gathering them up, she went to the family bathroom and ran the bath with cold water. She felt the parcel under the overall and laid it on the cabinet before throwing the clothes into the bath. The passage echoed with the sound of running water and Amina knew she didn’t have long. But she didn’t need long. There was no going back now, she had to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt. It would only hurt for a while. And then she would feel better again. The shower was still running. She quickly manipulated a pair of tweezers under a side flap of the parcel and pried it open. A minute later, she was finished and quickly left the bathroom and sat on the bed in the main bedroom.

Ten minutes later, Yusuf came out the shower and scowled.

‘Where’s my parcel?’

Amina smiled but she seethed inside. ‘You’re lucky I didn’t throw it into the bath with your overalls. I left it on the bathroom cabinet.’

Yusuf glowered. ‘Please leave my stuff alone in future. I don’t want it damaged, it’s expensive stuff.’

‘Well, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help. I had to get your overalls into cold water.’

Yusuf shrugged. ‘I’ve got plenty of overalls; you could have just thrown them away.’

Amina dried her hands on a towel, even though they weren’t wet. ‘Are you still going out, or would you rather stay with me and eat something nice—’

‘Why so many questions? I hate it when you question me. I said I had to go out.’ Yusuf shook his head and huffed.

‘I thought maybe you didn’t feel like going any more. I thought maybe you’d rather want to choose me.’ Amina chose the words carefully. Something inside her said Ahmed could still steer his life in the right direction, to a future with her and the promise of happiness. If he walked out the door tonight, it was the closure she needed. If he stayed, she would help him, get him out of the mess he was in.

‘Listen to me very carefully. I need to go. I don’t have to explain myself, so you must stop it right now.’

‘It’s every night, isn’t it? You have to go out every night?’

‘Don’t push me. You push and you push and you drive me crazy and then you cry when I snap.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘You think I’m cheating on you? You think I’m seeing someone else? Do you blame me? You don’t respect me.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ Now she wished he would go.

‘You didn’t say it, but you’re thinking it. I’ve given you everything you have, this house, a nice car, everything here, it’s mine, and I share it with you.’

‘I gave up my job for you.’

‘You didn’t need that job. Your job is to be here for me.’

Amina thought about this silently. He was right. Everything she had was his. He’d bought most of it, paid for it, controlled it. He’d given her access to a wonderful life, but the life itself wasn’t wonderful. He loved the idea of her – the devoted wife, always looking her best, a trophy he could display to his friends. But he didn’t love her. She needed more than this. She needed affirmation, not a plush apartment. She needed respect, not a fancy car. Every material thing was hers, but the very thing she needed the most, money couldn’t buy. It was time to change this. It was time to take her life back.

Masondo motioned to Durant and Shabalala to sit opposite him at the conference table. ‘Any news for me, chaps?’

Shabalala slid a file across the table to Masondo. ‘Some progress with regard to the
SIM
card we found in the centre’s garbage, sir.’