Allegiance (26 page)

‘No receipts but, one of those places you can’t ask for receipts, still okay?’

‘I’ll cover it.’ Durant silently wondered how much of his own money he’d invested in Splinters. ‘Carry on.’

‘Came to about three clips. Anyway, she tells me about Nathi, her brother and his chinas. Eish, it was late, she can drink doubles that lady, but the more she’s drinking, the more she’s talking, and the more she’s talking, the thirstier she gets. So it’s two in the morning and now she’s totalled, head on the table, everyone else is gone. She wants to tell me a secret.’

‘And you love secrets.’

‘Secrets is what makes me a good living, Kev. Can I finish now?’

Durant nodded.

‘So Tamara’s as drunk as a skunk and all this stuff is coming out about Nathi’s friend Frost. They call him “Frost” ’cos he’s so cold. Get it? Frost.’

‘I get it, Splinters.’

‘Ja, so to cut the story a bit shorter, she says Frost was involved in a shooting last year, involving a Filipino.’

Durant wound down the window. It was getting hot in the Land Rover. ‘What? You serious?’

‘Kevin. Don’t insult me.’

Durant closed his eyes hard. The bangs and flashes were suddenly in his head. The pain, the hurt, all the emotions he’d felt over the past year could suddenly be distilled into one terrible word: ‘Frost’. He shook his head. ‘I never thought, I mean it’s incredible that you . . . you’ve come across this piece of info.’

‘It’s a miracle,’ Splinters said, nodding slowly. ‘I told you. A miracle. She was boasting about knowing this guy. He’s like the gang leader. Lives in Chesterville. Owns taxis.’

Durant felt both elation and rage. This man had not only taken the life of the Filipino, but for a time he’d taken away Durant’s love and passion for his country and his faith in human beings. Frost had turned him into someone he never thought he could be: bitter, wounded, untrusting. For six months he’d wrestled with the depression and finally overcome the physical and mental pain. The wounds had healed, the scars had faded slightly, but there were still the terrifying nightmares. It had been a year. Almost to the day. Perhaps Splinters was right. Perhaps it was a Christmas miracle.

It was a minute past 5 p.m. when Khalid found an envelope in his post box which contained a small grey key attached to a label which indicated a number and the address of the post office. Khalid made a U-turn and exited through the complex gates, arriving at the post box cluster eight minutes later. The small brown padded bag contained only a cellphone, which Khalid quickly put into his pocket before locking the box again and climbing back into his car.

He held the phone in his hand for a moment, contemplating what to do with it. He knew he should have taken the package to Fulham or to the consul-general or even reported it directly to someone in the embassy, perhaps the regional security attaché, but it was too late. He had already taken the first steps into this deceit and although he knew it was too late to go back, he still nursed the hope that he could just make it all go away. Perhaps still retire at the beach cottage in Tampa and admire the sea in the Gulf of Mexico from his veranda. There he would look back on his diplomatic career and contemplate all his follies. He knew worse was yet to come, the treachery of blackmail is that you never know when it will end – he had learnt that at Diplomatic Security Studies. Once you’ve taken the first step of treason, there is no undoing it and you can only hope that your manipulator will show you some mercy once you have fulfilled his purpose.

His thumb pressed the ‘on’ button and the screen of the cellphone lit up. The heat was becoming oppressive and he opened the Volvo’s window to let fresh air in as lightning flashed in the western sky and the earth rumbled from the thunder. He noted there was one video clip in the phone’s memory and saw the file was created on the day of Mariam’s death. The footage was distorted and poor quality and Khalid only recognised what he saw because he was there and because the audio was clearer than the video. The video had been shot through some bushes and he cursed himself for not realising how close behind him the attacker had been. He was so focused on Mariam, everything else had been shut out of his mind, even his spatial awareness. He saw himself strike Mariam on the side of her face.

‘I value my job, you hear me? You’re jeopardising my career in this country, you little slut.’ It was tinny and crackled, but unmistakably his voice. The clip ended. The phone slipped from his fingers and dropped into his lap as big raindrops started pelting his car.

Masondo had opened his office window because the air conditioners were being serviced and without them the building had become an oven. ‘Well, Kevin, we’ll find this Frost character, and when we do, you’ll be the first to know. I’ve got the guys working and living in Chesterville looking at it. They won’t sleep until they’ve traced him. Just a matter of time.’

‘Thanks, Chief. I need closure on that whole miserable saga. I’d love to see that swine in court.’

‘I hear you, Kevin, and you will. He’ll go away forever, no question. It was a dastardly thing he did.’

Durant respected Masondo, yet he knew that even if Frost was convicted and made it to court and if, by some miracle, he was found guilty, ‘forever’ just wasn’t a word the justice system used when sentencing even the nastiest of murderers to prison sentences. He changed the subject. ‘How was the meeting with the
RAW
guy? Any confessions?’

‘Suleiman didn’t deny the sheikh’s working for them. He also didn’t say the sheikh was an agent or an informer of any kind, he just said he cooperates.’ Masondo offered Durant some popcorn.

Durant shook his head. ‘No thanks. Most people would cooperate for a case full of dollars. Come on, sir, we know he’s handling the guy and paying him.’

‘Of course we do. And he knows we do. The question is how do we benefit from it? You see, this window of opportunity has been benevolently sent to us at a time when we desperately need answers about what’s happening at the centre. We’re under pressure, as you know. We need to work with everything we have, even if it’s unpleasant.’

‘So are they willing to share info with us,
RAW
?’

‘No. They’re unwilling, but they will. They know they have to. Obviously it’s taken them a lot of time and money to develop the sheikh as an asset and now we’re telling them we want everything they get from him. It’s a bitter pill for them to swallow.’

Masondo answered his phone and said, ‘Send him in.’

Shabalala knocked and entered the office. ‘Sorry to interrupt, sir, but our asset at the centre has given me the name of someone he thinks might be our man.’

Masondo motioned for him to sit. ‘The threat call?’

‘Correct, sir.’

‘What’s happening, chaps? Suddenly, all the news is good.’

‘Faizel Mohammed. Quite outspoken, according to Ruslan. Always making statements about the crusaders and jihad and the West. Ruslan says no one at the centre really takes him seriously, all talk and no action, but I think in light of the threat . . . maybe we need to look at this guy.’

Masondo agreed. ‘Make it happen, Mr Shabalala. Popcorn?’

‘No thanks.’

‘Of course not. Let’s throw all our resources at this Mohammed chap for the next twenty-four hours. Mr Durant, you help him. Register him as a target and apply surveillance on him. We don’t have a lot of time.’

‘Can we ask our new asset, the sheikh, to maybe also give us a headsup on Mohammed? The Indians are paying him so we might as well get our money’s worth,’ Durant said.

‘I’ll speak to Suleiman. And I’ll have to speak to Special Agent Fulham. We’re forced to work as a team here. We don’t want their Assistant Secretary of State harmed while she’s on our soil.’

Fulham smiled as he got into Khalid’s car. He slid the seat back to accommodate his legs and Khalid remembered Mariam was the last person to sit in his car. He hoped Fulham couldn’t smell her perfume as he did every time he rode in his vehicle. ‘Good news, Mr Khalid. We may have found our man. News just in is that the local guys have ID’d a certain Faizel Mohammed at the centre who’s been a naughty boy, saying all kinda nasty things about us. Bet he’s the guy.’

Khalid accelerated away from Fulham’s hotel on the beachfront and headed for the city centre. Again he unconsciously chose a route which dodged the area he’d always parked in while he’d waited for Mariam to come to his car. ‘Really? Well, Assistant Secretary Conroy will be pleased.’

‘I’ve already cabled Washington, and the boys at Quantico are running this name through every database they got. The
CIA
and
NSA
fellows should also have it by now and I’m guessing something’s gotta pop up in the next twenty-four hours or so.’

Khalid nodded and set the air-conditioner knob to twenty degrees. Fulham’s eyes were all over the inside of the car. What was he looking for? Evidence of Mariam? ‘Well, that’s a relief.’

‘Yeah, sure is. I could see this thing was really starting to bother you. What did I tell you? Fundamental nobody, right? Shooting off his mouth at evening prayers and telling everyone he’s going to get us for invading Iraq. Well, we’re going to get him. He’s going down and I’m heading home.’

Khalid turned into the underground parking at the consulate building and silently hoped he wouldn’t go down with Faizel Mohammed.

Durant didn’t relax often, but he was relaxed now. It was just before seven, Alexis was in the bath, and he’d changed into a T-shirt and shorts. Stephanie sat beside him on the couch.

‘I think we might know who did this to me,’ he said.

Stephanie put a hand to her mouth. ‘Who shot at you?’

‘Who shot me, ja. A guy called Frost.’

‘Frost? That’s his name?’

‘Well, that’s what they call him.’

‘But why don’t they arrest him?’

Durant chewed his lip in thought. ‘They will, when they find him.’

Stephanie curled up close to him and smiled, but he continued to stare at the television. ‘Wow, that’s a relief. How do you feel about it?’

‘Relieved, I suppose. I never expected to know who did it.’

Stephanie thought for a moment. ‘You won’t change your mind about going now, will you?’

Durant shook his head and looked at his wife. ‘Of course not.’

‘I’m so happy for you. Great you can put all that behind you before we go. You can leave
NIA
with a clear conscience.’

‘By the way, I don’t work for
NIA
any more.’

‘What?’

‘It’s called the State Security Agency now, can you believe it?’

‘Really, why?’

‘I don’t know. New principals.’

‘So what’s different?’

‘Nothing really. Makes no difference to how we work. Business as usual for me.’ Durant got up and clicked the kettle on.

‘How’s your friend?’

‘Cedric? He’s okay. He’s a brilliant worker; I can’t complain.’ Two cups clanked onto the countertop. ‘If one can look past his annoying habits.’

‘No tea for me, thanks.’ She got a daily update from her husband on Cedric’s idiosyncrasies, which were hugely entertaining. ‘I’ll miss your stories about him. I hope he’ll be able to cope without you.’

Durant would miss the big guy. Every day was an adventure with him. ‘He’ll have to. I feel sorry for Mr Masondo, though. He might be a bit lost having to work with Ced day in and day out.’

‘Don’t let it bother you. They’ll manage without you. I need to make an appointment for us for a medical. It’s going to cost again, I’m afraid, but it’s one of the things we have to do.’

The kettle clicked off and Durant slopped the water into his cup. Every step towards emigration seemed to present further challenges. Durant normally thrived on challenges. He had worked on some complex cases which threw up challenge after challenge and he somehow overcame them. Yet, when it came to moving to New Zealand, he simply didn’t have the energy for it. ‘By the time we finally get to New Zealand we’ll be broke.’

‘Don’t be put off. If it was easy, everybody would be doing it.’

‘I thought everyone was doing it.’ He smiled. ‘But I hear more people are coming back than going nowadays.’

‘Don’t be silly, Kevin. That’s obviously not true. That’s what everyone wants you to think.’

‘I don’t know. I know it’s hard to get there, but it’s even harder to get back once you’re there and things don’t work out. The recession’s biting.’

‘Things will work out. There’ll always be a demand for your kind of work. They need security specialists there, with experience.’ The words came out quickly. ‘It’ll be easy for you. Which reminds me, my mom’s been getting calls from an Arab-sounding guy. Clean forgot to tell you.’

Durant looked up from stirring his tea. ‘What? When?’

‘She mentioned it this morning. Maybe give her a call and ask her.’

‘That’s quite important, I’d say. How did you forget to mention it?’ There was an edge to Durant’s voice he couldn’t conceal.

Stephanie shook her head and smiled. ‘You’re dealing with so much at the moment, didn’t want to add to your stress. You know Mom, always has her stories.’

Durant nodded. ‘She hasn’t taken the news of emigration very well, has she?’

‘No, Kevin, don’t do that. It’s got nothing to do with
US
emigrating. Mom’s fine with it, I told you. She’s the one who said it’s the best thing for Alexis. We’ve got her blessing.’

‘I hope she wasn’t just saying that to make it easier for you.’

‘Mom wouldn’t do that. She knows what we’ve been through; she’s fine with it.’

Durant remained silent. Everyone seemed fine with it except him.

The centre was situated in a relatively isolated rural area but security had never been an issue. The surrounding communities benefited from the benevolence of the sheikh’s outreach programmes and the food and medical supplies delivered to the local population brought in return a fraternal ownership of the centre. It was a peaceful coexistence, a balance of food for security. Doors were routinely left unlocked, bicycles rested against walls overnight, tools and farming implements lay untouched in the fields.

Faizel Mohammed left his room at the accommodation centre and walked the hundred metres to the mosque for evening prayers. Ruslan should have joined him, but didn’t. He would be late for Maghrib tonight, a courtesy, he was sure, the Almighty would grant him.