Daddy Long Legs (32 page)

Human and Lerato were sitting in the backseat of a BMW X5, one of five now racing towards the address of Arnold Havenga on the R369. Behind the convoy was a specially modified armoured truck carrying twelve members of the Special Task Force. Leading the convoy were two officers from the Northern Cape Traffic department, both on high-powered Kawasaki bikes.

Both Lerato and Human wore black Kevlar bullet-proof vests over their clothing. All the members of the convoy were similarly attired. Lerato was reading from an open file on her lap. She was bringing Human up to speed on the details that the squad had unearthed concerning one Arnold Havenga. Human sat quietly, staring ahead. A look of grim determination on his face. Point by point, Lerato narrated his personal history, from birth and early childhood to his university career and the events that firstly brought him to Luck, and then secondly to Hope.

‘Here’s something interesting,’ she said, her finger tracing a line in the file. ‘He was arrested by the university security personnel for peeping into the dorm rooms of female students.’ Human nodded knowingly.

‘I’m not surprised.’ Amongst many other telltale signs, many serial killers have a history of voyeurism. ‘Very interesting indeed.’

‘However, due to his father’s influence, the matter was never taken further, and he merely received a verbal reprimand.’ Lerato flipped a page. ‘And guess what. Three of the victims from the 80’s were piano students of his.’ Lerato shook her head. ‘The bastard.’

Human looked at Lerato intently, a tender smile on his lips. Sensing that Human was looking at her, Lerato looked up. For a moment they simply stared at each other, not saying anything. ‘What?’ She smiled with embarrassment.

‘You did an amazing job today. Superb.’

‘Really? It seemed to me as if you solved the case all by yourself.’

‘No, I didn’t. Your work was vital. The final piece to this...’ he shook his head as if trying to shake the entire thing from his mind, ‘...sick puzzle.’ She placed a hand on his leg. Human squeezed it. ‘Whatever the case, I am going to personally write you the most brilliant commendation ever.’

‘You would do that for me?’ Lerato asked coyly. Human smiled. He leaned forward and spoke to the driver.

‘How far to Orania?’

‘About five minutes, sir.’

Orania was a strange place indeed. A town that could arguably only exist in the new South Africa. Following the landmark speech by F.W. de Klerk in February 1990 in which he announced the release of Nelson Mandela from prison and the repeal of certain racist laws, effectively bringing an end to Apartheid and three hundred years of minority white rule, a group of Afrikaner nationalists, headed by Carl Boshoff – academic and son-in-law of Hendrik Verwoerd, much maligned architect of Apartheid – bought the town (yes, they actually bought the town) of Orania.

Orania was formerly a construction camp for workers building the Vanderkloof Dam. Orania is unique in South Africa in that it is exclusively populated by whites, mostly Afrikaners. Although, under the new constitution, the residents of Orania cannot officially deny residence to other races, there exists an implicit understanding that non-whites (and Englishmen) are not welcome. This is because Orania is not only a place built on a racial ideal but it is at the same time a resistance to the dominance of English, especially with regards to education. Because Orania can, strictly speaking, not exist politically separate from the rest of South Africa, it is operated as a private company, with its own currency (the Ora) and its own bank. Around one thousand people call Orania home and it includes around seventy businesses. Nelson Mandela, always the perennial peacemaker, famously visited the Afrikaner stronghold in 1995 and had a cup of tea with Betsie Verwoerd, widow of Hendrik Verwoerd.

Right now, Human and his convoy of heavily armed police officers were racing towards Orania where, their records indicated, Arnold Havenga was currently living.

‘Good,’ Human said, responding to the estimated time of arrival. The landscape whizzed past the tinted windows of the BMW. ‘Now I know why Havenga never appeared in our original list of suspects,’ Human said, turning to Lerato. ‘We focused on all those males who had moved away from Hope. Except, in a sense he never left the area at all. He only moved a couple of kilometres away. Perfect.’ He grimaced. ‘Well, this time he’s not getting away.’ Lerato smiled and nodded. Human’s entire being was electrified. Drunk on a cocktail of apprehension and excitement. It was the way he always felt when he was on the verge of making an arrest. And today, the stakes were so much higher. And the consequences of a failed raid so much more severe. Success would mean unprecedented acclaim. And failure? Well, it was not a thought that Human entertained at the moment, sitting with tense nervousness in the darkened interior of the luxury SUV. He only prayed that they were in time to save the little boy. He didn’t dare think of the terrible torment that had possibly already been inflicted on the premier’s son by now. Dear God, Human thought, please bring a final resolution to this terrible episode.

In the front passenger seat, a detective’s cell phone rang. He answered it, talking in monosyllables. Then he ended the call, turning to Human. ‘Sir, the search warrant has been approved.’

Human had requested a search warrant from a local magistrate, although, strictly speaking, they could proceed without one at this stage. The South African Criminal Procedure Act stipulated that a police officer could search a house or vehicle if there was reasonable suspicion that a crime had been committed or was about to be committed. In this case, there was a great deal more than just mere suspicion.

‘Here’s something else,’ Lerato said, scanning the file on her lap. ‘He had fairly major surgery in 2002. A chromium and cobalt-based alloy prosthesis was implanted in the Medi-Clinic in Bloemfontein.’

‘Good. That’s good to know.’ Human turned to the detective in the front seat. ‘Still no recent pictures of the suspect?’

‘No, sir. Botha and Malherbe are working on it, though. We should have something within the hour.’

Human nodded. In the distance, he saw a small shopping centre on the right and a row of tall trees on the left. He recognised the scene from a previous visit. They had arrived at their destination. Somewhere up ahead was a brutal killer that had avoided capture for more than twenty years. Human felt his heart quicken as he tightened the straps of his Kevlar jacket. ‘Are we all ready, guys?’

‘Yep.’

‘Ready as ever, sir.’

‘Let’s kick some ass.’

Human turned to Lerato. ‘You ready for this?’

She nodded, smiling. ‘I can hardly wait.’

Human squeezed her hand again. He looked through the tinted windshield at the traffic officers leading the convoy. ‘They know the address?’

‘Yes, sir,’ the driver responded. ‘They know the area well.’

They passed the shopping centre on their right. Next to it was another building housing various retail outlets, restaurants and coffee shops. This was the commercial heart of Orania. The actual residential areas lay across the R396, to their right.  At the main intersection, the convoy turned left and made another immediate left. The houses that lined the dirt road were typical of small town South Africa, and virtually indistinguishable from Hope.

Earlier that day, the administrative body of Orania had been informed of the raid. It was a mere courtesy. Although Orania was an autonomous entity, South African legal jurisdiction was nonetheless valid there. In front of them the road veered sharply to the right. Human sat forward in his seat, nervous tension making his body taut. The interior of the X5 was alive with excitement and apprehension. They were mere seconds away from capturing one of South Africa’s most vicious – and infamous – serial killers.

‘It’s a few houses up front, sir,’ the driver informed Human.

As instructed, the traffic officers had not activated their sirens. They now pulled to the side of the road. The rest of the convoy also stopped. Back in Hope, Human and the leader of the STF unit had agreed on a strategy. They were to approach the house on foot. To minimise any chances of discovery. And maximise the element of surprise.

Human, Lerato and the other two detectives jumped from the stationery BMW SUV. The other detectives were already waiting for them. Forming a silent line along the side of the road. From behind, the members of the elite STF unit rushed forward, all attired in full tactical gear and toting South African manufactured selective fire R5 assault rifles. Originally designed by Yisrael Galili, the modified R5 assault rifle, manufactured by Denel (a South African government-owned company), featured a rounded magazine, similar to the AK47 and a side-folding tubular stock, all made from extremely lightweight synthetic polymers. The features of the powerful assault rifle made it particularly popular amongst special force units, including the Serbian Special Brigade. All the STF R5 rifles were fitted with sound suppressors. Two of the STF team members each carried a Heckler and Koch HK417 with an attached AG-C/EGLM (Enhanced Grenade Launching Module) equipped with a teargas grenade. As the STF team sprinted past them, Human also saw two specially modified battering rams.

As agreed earlier, the STF would take point on the assault, with Human’s team following closely behind.

On their left was an open expanse of veldt. About a hundred metres ahead, stood their target, a solitary building, one of only two houses on the left side of the dirt road. To their right, modest houses lined the full length of the road.

The Special Task Force sprinted along the dirt road, with the group of detectives jogging some distance behind. The convoy had attracted a great deal of attention. And all along the road, residents came from their houses, watching the unfolding scene with awe and trepidation. From one house, a mother came screaming, and collected her two toddlers playing in the front garden. As the detectives jogged past, she rushed the two boys into her house.

Up front, the STF unit reached the target house. Employing standard tactical manoeuvres, they fanned out with synchronised precision. Crouching low, they swiftly surrounded the house, securing both exits. Additional members crouched below some of the larger windows. The leader of the unit communicated with his men using a specially designated frequency. All members wore specially designed headsets. Fearing for the safety of the premier’s son inside, it was agreed that the unit wouldn’t announce itself. The STF was going to go in hard. And swift. To immobilise the target with brutal force. The instruction was to take him alive, in case the child was held in another location.

Using the tall grass of the bush veldt as cover, the detectives crouched down along the dirt road. Waiting.

The house was secure.

It was time to nail the bastard.

Using a signal only audible to the STF team, the order was given.

From his vantage point, Human watched one of the STF members rise from his position underneath a large window. It was one of the soldiers equipped with the Heckler and Koch. He stepped back. And fired a grenade through the window. Normally the STF would use a stun grenade, but the threat posed to the young boy was too great in this instance. Human assumed another STF member mirrored the action at an opposite window. From their position, they heard the glass shattering.

‘Wow,’ Lerato said next to Human. He looked at her silently, suddenly feeling an intense desire to hold and kiss her passionately.

The STF leader held a fist in the air, unfolding one finger after another in rapid succession. Counting down. When his palm was completely exposed, he shouted an order into his headset. As one, the team slipped specially designed gas masks over their faces. Human saw an STF member rush towards the front door, the battering ram held before him. With a crash clearly audible from their position, he smashed the front door with a single smack. Using the backward motion of the ram, the policeman threw himself against the exterior wall, next to the obliterated doorway. With perfect synchronisation, the STF stormed inside.  Crouched low. And holding their assault rifles before them.

A group of Orania citizens had gathered on a nearby lawn, watching with shocked interest.

Next to the road, Human crouched low. Waiting impatiently. This was it. Finally. After such a long time. After so many burdens and obstacles. After so much goddammned politics and bullshit. Finally. They were here. And the reign of terror was over. Daddy Long Legs was no more. Human waited with growing desperation. What were they doing? Why was it taking so long? What was happening inside the little house, choked with the debilitating teargas? After what seemed an eternity, the STF leader appeared. He gave Human the pre-arranged signal. Not wasting a second, Human jumped up. ‘Let’s go. Let’s go.’

Human sprinted towards the house, quickly closing the gap between them and final absolution, his team hot on his heels. At the fractured door, Human met the STF leader. Out of breath and sweating from the exertion under the hot Karoo sun. He looked into the task force leader’s eyes.

And felt his heart sink. Plummeting into a dark abyss.

He knew what the elite policeman was going to say before he opened his mouth.

‘There’s no-one inside.’

‘What about the shed?’

From his earlier position, Human had seen a large garden shed behind the house.

The STF leader, Captain Robert Coetzee, slipped the gas mask, positioned on top of his skull, from his head. ‘Nothing, detective. We checked it.’