The Colour of Gold (27 page)

Bogdan was
desperately tired. Ever since he'd been locked in the cell he had
not been allowed to sleep. His guards had forced him to stand in
the middle of the room and whenever he collapsed they had entered
the cell and shouted and slapped him until he managed to stand up
again. He had lost all perception of time as the overhead lights
were never switched off so he had no idea if it was day or night.
From the number of meals of cold porridge topped with a little
sugar and a tin mug of weak coffee he estimated that he had been in
the cell for three days, although this was a guess as he had
neglected to take note of the first few meals and with the lack of
sleep his memory was confused and unreliable. Whenever he tried to
eat, the only way that he could get the food down without gagging
because of the stench from the plastic bucket, was to pinch his
nose closed with his left hand and spoon the food into his mouth
with his other hand.

What had become
of vital importance to Bogdan now was his need to speak to someone
- anyone. He had to know why he was being imprisoned and whether or
not anyone was doing anything to free him. He also desperately
needed to know what charges the police had levelled against him but
whenever he tried to speak to the policemen who brought him his
food, they ignored him. His frustration and fear mounted and
several times he broke down and cried. He began banging on the cell
door with the palm of his hand and when this failed to attract
anyone's attention he began pounding the steel door with his fists.
He screamed and shouted at the men who watched him through the tiny
observation window in the door but all they did was laugh at him.
His feet ached form standing on the cold concrete floor hour after
hour and he longed to be able to lie down and rest his head on the
floor but each time he fell to the ground the policemen entered the
cell and began shouting and slapping him.

Bogdan's mind
began playing tricks on him and he imagined that he was lying on a
soft warm bed, only to be brought back to reality by the shouts of
the angry policemen. He imagined seeing a bed with a soft mattress
in the corner of his cell only to find that there was nothing there
when he reached it. He broke down and began crying and screaming
but nobody took any notice of him. Eventually he could no longer
stand by himself and was allowed to lie on the cold concrete floor
but whenever he fell asleep a guard would enter the cell and begin
shouting at him to stay awake.

On what Bogdan
estimated was the morning of his fifth day of detention the door of
his cell opened and, as he blinked and tried to focus his eyesight,
a white man dressed in a pale blue safari suit and grey shoes
walked in. At first Bogdan didn't recognise him and then he
realised that the man was the police officer who had taken him into
custody at the flat in Hillbrow.

The man stared
at Bogdan, his pale blue eyes hard and unemotional. Bogdan's tongue
was so thick and the inside of his mouth so gummed up that, when he
tried to speak, the only sound that he could make was a hoarse
croak. His mouth moved vigorously as he tried to produce the words
that he'd been practicing but no intelligible sound came out. Tears
of frustration flowed down his cheeks and his hands began to shake.
The stranger stared at Bogdan for a short while and then turned and
left the cell, slamming the door closed behind him.

Bogdan, who by
this time had managed to get to his feet, sank back onto the floor.
He had so desperately wanted to speak to someone and now, when the
opportunity had arisen he had been incapable of speech. He began to
cry quietly desperately wishing that someone would come and help
him; help him cope with his loneliness and despair. His depression
and the stench that surrounded him overwhelmed him and he fell
asleep.

The following
morning two guards entered the cell and hauled him to his feet.

"You're getting
a visitor today." one of the men said. "We can't let him see you
like this, so let's go and give you a shower."

The two men
supported Bogdan as they walked him to a small shower cubicle and
stripped off his dirty clothes.

"Get in there
and clean yourself." one of the policemen said.

Even the ice
cold water couldn't detract Bogdan from the pleasure of cleaning
himself and when he had finished he was handed a rough towel to dry
himself with.

"Who's coming
to visit me?" Bogdan asked.

"Shut up and
put on these overalls." the policeman said.

Bogdan dressed
in the clean clothes. He felt excited. At last he would have
someone to talk to and he swore to himself that this time he
wouldn't forget what he wanted to say or be unable to articulate
his words. He desperately needed to know why he was being detained
and what he needed to do to regain his freedom. As he walked back
to his cell he began to rehearse what he would say to his visitor.
There were so many questions that he wanted answers to and so many
things that he needed to say that he became confused and had to be
guided along the passageway to his cell by the two policemen.

After he had
been secured in his cell and the policemen had left, Bogdan began
to worry that he would forget what he wanted to say to his visitor.
If only he had a pencil and paper so that he could make notes to
remind himself. He began to panic when he tried to remember what he
wanted to say and found his mind blank. He became desperately
frightened and started talking to himself out loud so that when the
time came to speak he would be able to do so.

For the rest of
the day Bogdan sat on the floor waiting for his visitor and
whenever he heard a noise outside his cell he would struggle to his
feet and exercise his jaw so that he could speak clearly. When his
evening meal of cold porridge arrived he clambered to his feet.

"When's my
visitor coming to see me?" he asked the policeman as the man pushed
the tin plate into the cell.

"You bloody
fool!" the man replied. "Nobody's coming to visit you."

"But this
morning I was told that someone was coming to visit me!" Bogdan
exclaimed.

"Get this
through your thick skull." the policeman said. "Nobody's coming to
visit you today or any other day. You're going to be left here to
rot! Now, eat your food."

The door of the
cell slammed closed. Bogdan blinked his eyelids rapidly as he
realised that he was being strung along and that nobody would be
coming to visit him until he had completely broken down. He meant
nothing to the authorities and his need for communication was
irrelevant to their needs. He sank to the floor, too depressed to
eat.

***

The plain
clothed policeman who had apprehended Bogdan at the Hillbrow
apartment and also visited the cell earlier in the day suddenly
appeared late that night. Bogdan was too weary to stand up and
stared at the man looming over him. The police had stopped forcing
Bogdan to stand as he usually collapsed as soon as they left. They
did continue to shout and scream at him so that he had as little
sleep as possible.

Bogdan closed
his eyes, convinced that when he opened them again, the policeman
would have disappeared like all the other mirages that played
tricks with his mind and he would be able to go back to sleep, but
when he did open his eyes the man was still there.

"Mister
Vodnik." the policeman said. "I'm Captain Tiaan Botha and I think
it's time you and I had our little talk. According to my men you've
wanted to talk to someone for some time. Well, now's your chance
but, I must warn you, that if you try and bullshit me, I'll walk
out of here and you won't get another chance to talk to anyone for
a long time. Do you understand me?"

Bogdan
struggled to make sense of what the man was saying. His mind was so
confused and it had been so long since he had heard a person
speaking to him and not shouting at him that his mind seemed unable
to recall the meanings of the words that he was hearing. Vaguely he
felt himself nodding his head. The Captain turned to the two men
waiting outside the cell door.

"Okay." he
said. "Bring him to room eight on the tenth floor. We'll
interrogate him there."

***

Bogdan shuffled
into the interrogation room with the two policemen on either side
of him. He peered around the harshly lit room, narrowing his eyes
to protect them from the glare. Towards the back of the
white-painted room he saw a small wooden desk and behind it, on a
wooden chair, sat the Captain Botha who had visited his cell
earlier. To the right of the captain was another small desk with a
uniformed policeman sitting behind it. On the desktop Bogdan
noticed an unusual type of typewriter. He presumed that the
policeman was some kind of stenographer who would be recording the
meeting between him and the police captain. One of the officers who
had accompanied Bogdan from his cell closed the door as he looked
around for a chair.

"If you're
looking for a chair to sit on, forget it." the captain said. "This
isn't a social gathering and you'll stand here until we're
satisfied with your answers to our questions. So, stand here in
front of me so that I don't have to shout. And if I'm not satisfied
with the information that you give me you'll stand here until you
drop to the floor unconscious. Do you understand?"

The enthusiasm
that Bogdan had built up in anticipation of his being able to speak
to someone at last, disappeared like mist burnt away by the sun. He
felt fear crawl over his body as he saw the hatred in the
policeman's eyes.

"Please, sir."
Bogdan whined. "I've been forced to stand for days. I just can't
stand any more."

"You'll stand
or my guys will beat you to a pulp." the Captain said. "I'm not in
any hurry. You'll stand and talk to me, I can assure you. So shut
up and stand in front of my desk!"

One of the
policemen grabbed Bogdan roughly by the arm and shoved him across
the room until he was in front of the Captain's desk. As Bogdan
turned towards the man to protest the man slapped him viciously
across the face with his open hand. The sound of the harsh smack
bounced off the bare walls and Bogdan reeled sideways and would
have fallen if the man had not still been holding his arm. A thin
trickle of blood seeped from the corner of Bogdan's mouth, ran down
his chin and dripped onto the front of his shirt.

"Why have you
brought me here?" Bogdan asked his voice rising hysterically. "What
have I done that allows you to assault me? I have a right to
know!"

"You don't have
any rights." Captain Botha said. "You lost your rights when you
joined our enemies and began trying to overthrow our legitimate
government. The law allows us to detain people like you without
giving you a reason and to keep you in custody for at least ninety
days. And after that we can keep you for another ninety days and
then another ninety days. In fact, if we really want to, we can
keep you here until you die. Now shut up and answer my
questions!"

Bogdan wiped
the blood off his chin with the back of his hand, glanced at the
red stain and sighed.

"Please let me
sit…" he pleaded, but before he could complete his plea the
policeman standing next to him slapped him hard across the side of
his face. Bogdan staggered to the side and nearly fell.

"The Captain
told you to shut up and answer his questions!" the man screamed,
jerking Bogdan upright as he began to sag to his knees. Gasping for
breath Bogdan straightened and stared at the concrete floor in
front of him.

"Do you know
someone by the name of Isaiah Zuma?" the captain asked.

Bogdan
struggled to marshal his thoughts. The isolation that he'd endured,
the physical abuse that he was forced to undergo by standing
barefoot on the cold concrete floor of his cell and the resultant
deprivation of sleep had dulled his mind to such an extent that he
found it impossible to focus on anything. His mind just wouldn't
obey him. It flitted from one thought to another, never coming to
any conclusion. It was completely out of his control. Isaiah Zuma?
The name was familiar but, as hard as he tried, he couldn't place
it. He frowned deeply as he tried to capture the relationship
between the name and the faces of the people that he knew.

Pain burst
through his head as the policeman standing next to him slapped him
again. The pain made him cry out in protest and he sank to his
knees. The policeman lifted him up roughly.

"Answer the
Captain!" the man screamed. "Do you know Isaiah Zuma?"

"I'm trying to
remember!' Bogdan shouted. "I can't place him! I know the name but
I can't identify him! I'm just too tired!"

"Answer the
Captain properly!" the man next to him shouted. "Stop trying to
make excuses! You're going to stand here until you answer the
Captain's questions!"

Bogdan forced
himself to concentrate. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed and
tried to focus on the name "Isaiah Zuma". Suddenly the image of the
man that had blackmailed him and that he had supplied the bomb
parts to swam into his mind. He began to sweat as he realised that
if he admitted to knowing the man and also admitted to supplying
him with revolutionary material he could be signing his death
warrant. How did they security police know about him and Zuma?

Bogdan glanced
at Captain Botha just in time to see the man nod to the policeman
standing next to him. An excruciating explosion of pain erupted in
the area of his kidneys as the policeman hit him viciously across
his lower back with what Bogdan imagined was a heavy rubber baton.
He screamed and collapsed to the floor, vomit spewing from his open
mouth.

"Stand up!" the
policeman shouted. "Stand up and answer the Captain!"

The pain in
Bogdan's lower back was so intense that he almost lost
consciousness. He struggled against the blackness and with an
almost super-human effort managed to get to his knees. The
policeman next to him grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his
feet.