Gun Dealing (The Ryder Quartet Book 2) (31 page)

The second or two of complete silence
was ruptured by Koekemoer.

‘
Yissus
,
Mavis. I think I’m going to ask you to complete my tax return this year.’

The babble of affirmation was
overwhelming for Mavis, and she covered her face with both hands.

Mavis then took great delight in
responding to Captain Nyawula’s request that she herself go through to Sergeant
Cronje’s office and immediately put a call through to Nadine Salm to ask her to
implement exactly what she had just suggested.

With Mavis out of the room, there was
a round of silent high-fives, fist-punches, and nodding affirmations. After the
tragedy of Sinethemba’s death, Mavis was back on track.

Pillay and Ryder made the move to
disperse. They were going out to Mkhize’s place together, but in separate cars,
they told the Captain. Nothing had come from Pillay’s observation this morning
at Wilson’s Wharf, or from Ryder’s at Westville, so they decided that it was
time to tail Mkhize. If by any chance Mkhize made a move, they would follow him.
And if he met anyone, the detectives would split and would tail both of them.

17.15.

The afternoon had been tedious. Since
leaving the Captain and the rest of the team at 12.30 Pillay and Ryder had been
on two different stakeouts, now going on for well over four hours. Almost an
hour out at Nomivi’s Tavern, followed by more than three hours, now, at
Wilson’s Wharf. They had their eye on one vessel only. They had been sitting in
Pillay’s car looking at nothing else.

Nothing. No-one came. No-one went. Thirty
metres
away from where Pillay had parked her car the
yacht rocked gently on the swell.

The only break in the tedium was when
Nyawula called.

‘Jeremy?’

‘Captain?’

‘Still at the Yacht Club?’

‘Yes, Cap’n. Navi’s with me. We’re in
her car.’

‘Anything?’

‘Nothing. Nothing at all. But we’ll
hang in. Maybe they’ll come before dark. We’ll give it up after sunset if
there’s nothing.’

‘OK. Call if you need anything. In
the meantime here’s something for you.’

‘What’s that, Captain?’

‘Nadine thought Mavis had hit it
right on the head. So she dropped everything she was doing. She’s now run
Thabethe against the evidence from Cato Manor. It’s a hit. He’s definitely the
Cato Manor man.’

‘Good on Mavis!’

Pillay knew immediately what that
meant and gave Ryder a fist-punch.

‘No surprises, Jeremy, but good to
have it wrapped up like that. Get that little bastard for me, will you?’

‘We will, Captain.’

‘Take care, Jeremy.’

And he was gone. In the light of
their flagging energy the call had served to give Ryder and Pillay a little
boost.

‘Hungry, Navi? We didn’t have any
lunch. I told Fiona I’d only be back around nine or ten tonight. How about
something?’

‘For sure.’

‘Toss you for one of us to go and get
some John Dory’s? Safer than going into the Yacht Club.’

‘Right on.’

They tossed a coin. Ryder lost. They
both decided on the quick take-away special from the fish restaurant. He got
out of the car to walk the fifty
metres
over to his
own. They had separated their two cars earlier on, in an effort not to attract
attention. Before he left her, he leaned in through the window.

‘I should be no more than thirty
minutes. Call the moment you see anything and I’ll come right back.’

‘OK, Jeremy. Bring me a coke, too,
will you.’

‘Sure.’

Ryder strode over to his car and
within a couple of minutes he was driving down to the far end of the wharf. The
restaurant was little more than five hundred
metres
away but he wanted the car in case a quick return became necessary.

Pillay watched him go. Her gaze
drifted back to the yacht moored just thirty paces from where she sat. Her
thoughts ranged over the possibilities that she and Ryder had discussed during
the course of the afternoon’s long wait. And she re-visited the events of the
past few hours.

They had had a chance to bust both
Mkhize and Thabethe this afternoon, but had decided to hold back and follow the
trail to where Ryder was sure the honey-pot waited. Somewhere in the area
surrounding the Royal Natal Yacht Club he was convinced that Big Red had a big
stash of drugs. He had been bust ten days ago with a sizeable haul at his home
in Westville, but once Ryder had heard this morning that the big man was out on
bail, he was convinced that there was much more stuff tucked away somewhere.
The guy oozed ostentatious wealth. His lawyer was the most expensive criminal
lawyer known to the police throughout the province. The Rooster had been sprung
from prison on an enormous bail, the price tag for which he probably hadn’t
even blinked at. Ryder wanted him badly. He was prepared to hold back for a while
on an instant arrest of Thabethe if it gave him a chance to nail Big Red too.
Big Red would lead them to the real prize.

So when Thabethe arrived at Nomivi’s
in a 1974 Ford while they were watching Mkhize’s place, the initial excitement
gave way to a wait-and-see game. Speaking on their iPhones from their separate
cars, the two detectives decided not to barge in and arrest both Mkhize and
Thabethe. They would have had them cold, Pillay thought, but she saw the sense
in Ryder’s argument.

They watched as Mkhize and Thabethe
talked out on the street, not noticing either of the two cars each parked more
than fifty
metres
from where they stood, one up the
street and the other down the street. They continued to watch as a woman walked
out from Nomivi’s and handed the two men each a bottle of beer before she
returned to the tavern. They watched the two men as they laughed, clapped each
other on the back, and did high-fives. Pillay had grown more and more incensed,
but she went along with Ryder’s decision to hold back.

Eventually Thabethe got back into his
car. Mkhize leaned in at the window. Thabethe handed him a small package, and
Mkhize took what looked like three different wads of cash from his pockets and
handed it all over to the man in the car. Then Thabethe drove off, and Mkhize
returned with the package to his room at the back.

‘Change of plan, Navi. Looks like
Mkhize is staying put. We could bust him now. That’s probably an expensive pack
of
whoonga
for their next round of
dealing. But we can bust him for that anytime. Maybe even tomorrow. For now,
let’s rather both get on Thabethe’s tail. Discreet distance. I’ll go first. If
I sense that he suspects I’m on his tail, I’ll call and you can take over.’

‘OK Jeremy. Got you.’

‘Let’s go.’

They had tailed Thabethe all the way
to Wilson’s Wharf. They had watched him park the Ford, get out, and walk just
over twenty paces before walking up a short flight of stairs onto the deck of a
luxury yacht. The two detectives parked as far away from each other as
possible, while both keeping the yacht in view, and waited.

Ryder had called after fifteen
minutes.

‘This could go on for some time,
Navi. My instinct is to wait rather than make a move. Maybe he’s waiting for
Big Red.’

‘Maybe Big Red’s already on board.’

‘Could be. But either way we want to
take both of them down together. If we bust Thabethe now and find he’s alone on
board then we lose Big Red. Let’s wait. The moment he arrives and gets on board
we have them both.’

They had waited. And waited. After an
hour Ryder had called again to tell her he was coming over to join her. And
they had sat together in her car, watching and talking.

Until Ryder had got hungry.

Pillay now turned back to look at the
yacht. She
realised
that her gaze had drifted with
her thoughts and she had been looking down the road toward the restaurants,
from where Ryder would be returning. As she turned now back to a focus on the
yacht, she wound down her window and put her elbow out. Another hot, humid,
Durban evening, she thought.

Which was exactly when she felt the
prick of a bicycle spoke behind her right ear.

Thabethe chuckled, quietly. Pillay
froze. Thabethe whistled, a high-pitched shrill sound. Which brought Big Red up
from the interior of the yacht. As he strode over, almost nonchalantly, Thabethe
spoke into Pillay’s ear.

‘You been watching long time,
detective. You like my friend’s boat from the outside. Now you come on board to
have a good look inside,
nè?
’

17.55.
  

Mkhize was in a tearing hurry. He had
just taken a call from Thabethe.
Grab all
your cash and add it to the tin. With the 100k. Everything you got, Spikes!

Then, he was told, he should head for
the hills.
Disappear, bra!

Mkhize was storming around the place,
screaming at two women inside Nomivi’s, then rushing out to his room, then back
again into the tavern, then back to his room. He was gathering things together.
He had a big suitcase and had stuffed all sorts of things into it. He was going
out somewhere for a few days, he shouted. He would phone them and let them know
what he was doing.

As Mkhize got into his car his mind
was racing over the things Thabethe had told him. He and the big
mlungu
had captured the Indian cop and
were holding her as bait to get Ryder. They were going to ambush Ryder then
kill both of them and then dump them out at sea. But Big Red was panicking
about the
whoonga
. He thought that if
the two detectives were on to them at Wilson’s Wharf then they must have shared
their information with other cops. Probably that bastard Nyawula, who was
another one that Thabethe wanted to give the spoke to. So all of them had to
split. They would have to come back to the big
whoonga
deal another time. For now, it was time to cover tracks.

But only after getting rid of the two
detectives.

In the meantime, Thabethe had told
his friend, he should bury any cash he had and run. Ryder might have arranged
for the cops to hit Nomivi’s. Mkhize should take cover until he heard more.

Mkhize decided that the few thousand
he had in his room was not worth the time it would take to dig up the Bank of
Skhura, make the deposit, and then bury it again with the hundred thousand that
was already there. He simply pocketed the cash, and roared away into the dusk.

18.00.
  

Ryder crept, agonizingly slowly, down
the internal flight of stairs coming off the deck. The first thing he saw was
Pillay, trussed up like a fly wrapped in a spider’s web. Not just tied. Wrapped
in
metres
of rope, and gagged. She couldn’t budge.
But her eyes said it all. Panic. Warning Ryder to back away. Just behind her in
the galley was someone. One, or two? Ryder crept closer. Pillay was shaking as
much of her head as she could, eyes even wider. She rubbed her face against the
wall in an effort to free the gag so that she could scream something.

Suddenly Thabethe leaped out from
behind the galley wall. Ryder saw the movement a split second before Thabethe
fired the SIG. Once. Twice. Three times. The rounds echoed off the laminated
finishings in the vessel and the sound rolled up the stairs and out into the
ears of anyone within thirty or forty
metres
,
notwithstanding the heavy traffic beyond on Margaret Mncadi Avenue. Ryder
rolled to escape the first bullet, ducked for the second, and ran smack into
the wall to escape the third. He bounced straight back off the wall before
Thabethe could fire the fourth round, with his right fist arcing round to smash
Thabethe’s gun-hand. The SIG clattered down and slid back into the galley as,
out of nowhere, Thabethe had the sharpened bicycle spoke.

He lunged toward Ryder, who responded
with a wayward kick to Thabethe’s right hip. Pillay groaned as she saw the
missed opportunity. Ryder would never have missed the opportunity if only he
had attended her martial arts classes. She would have taken Thabethe down with
that kick if it had been positioned correctly. Would have shattered the knee.
Put him into a wheelchair for months. But Ryder had aimed far too high.

Nevertheless, the kick had made an
impact. Ryder’s boot had at least connected with the hip and momentarily
disabled Thabethe, who dropped the spoke as he screamed in agony. It gave Ryder
time to launch himself at full stretch, but Thabethe rolled out of reach and
scrambled toward the stairs. Ryder kicked out at him again and felt his left
boot connect with Thabethe’s ankle. Another
agonising
scream from Thabethe, but he managed to kick back and drag himself away from
the detective, grabbing hold of the rail and clambering his way onto the first
two steps. Pillay was still screaming with her mouth firmly shut by the gag,
resulting in nothing but a swallowed gurgle. She was trying to warn Ryder about
something else. But Ryder missed it. As Thabethe reached the middle of the
stairs he lunged forward and upward to make a grab for the escaping man’s foot.