Thirteen Hours (52 page)

'Wait,' said the paramedic, 'he can go with you.' To
Griessel he said: 'Where's your car?'

Benny pointed at the van. 'The keys are still inside.'

They loaded her into the helicopter, and Griessel
shifted in beside her with difficulty. 'Wait a bit,' the paramedic said and ran
back into the building. He returned with the toes in a little bag and passed
the gruesome cargo to Griessel. 'They can sew them back on,' said the man. 'Maybe
....'

In the helicopter she tried to talk but the rotors
made too much of a racket.

Once they had landed on the roof of the hospital and
when they were ready to wheel her into theatre, the same one where they had
operated on Mbali Kaleni and Eben Etlinger, she asked them to wait. She told
Griessel there was another thing, last night. After they had cut Erin's throat.

'We'll talk later,' he pleaded, because he had to get
back to Vusi, there was a lot of work to do.

'No. You have to know. They killed another man.'

She had seen them cut Erin's throat and she had run
blindly in fear and shock back to the street, chose the first possible street
away from them. Somewhere not long after that she had seen a building on the
left with an entrance through to an inner garden. She wanted to get out of
sight. She ran in there.

A big, middle-aged man in a suit, handsome, was
standing at a fishpond and watching two other men walk away. He shouted
something angry before they opened a glass door and disappeared inside. On the
wall was a logo of a bird, she could remember that.

'Please, help me,' she said with huge relief, here was
help. The big man had looked at her and the anger on his face had quickly
changed to concern. 'What's wrong?' he asked.

'They want to kill me,' she had said and went to stand
with him.

'Who?'

They heard their running steps and looked at the
entrance, where Jason and the others had appeared. Jason had a gun in his hand
now.

'We just want her,' he said to the big man. The man
had put his arm protectively around Rachel's shoulders and said: 'Not before we
call the police.'

'She stole from us. We just want our stuff back, we
don't want trouble.'

'Even more reason to call the police,' and he had
started to feel in his pocket, probably for his phone.

Jason pointed the pistol at the man. 'Then I'll have
to shoot you.'

The man took out a cell phone.

She realised she was not going to be responsible for
another death and she started running again. The big man tried to stop them.

She heard two shots. She looked back. The big man in
the black suit fell down.

Then she was gone, around the corner. In the street a
municipal lorry had pulled away, a smelly truck transporting rubbish bags. She jumped
up against it, saw them coming. The truck picked up speed so that Jason became
smaller and smaller. She thought they had given up when she had nearly a half a
kilometre lead on them. But then the traffic lights at the top of the street
turned red. She jumped off then.

'Two men went into the building just before he saw
you?' he asked her as they wheeled her into theatre.

'Yes,' she said.

Griessel followed. 'What did they look like?'

'I can remember only one. He was ... eccentric. Very
thin, his head was shaven .. . Oh, and he had a silver earring,' and then the
doctor told Griessel he would have to leave. 'He was dressed all in black,' she
called before the theatre doors closed.

Detective Inspector Vusi Ndabeni finally lost his
professional cool in the interrogation room at the Caledon Square police
station.

They deposited Steven Chitsinga in a cell. They asked
Mat Joubert to question Jason de Klerk in an available office, as Griessel said
he couldn't, because if he did he 'would beat the fucker to death'.

Vusi took Barry Smith to the official station
interview room. Griessel took charge of Bobby Verster in another office.
Verster was the last one to come out of Rachel's torture chamber, the one who
had left Jeremy Oerson alone with her. They suspected he was the weakest link.

Joubert got nothing from Jason de Klerk, despite his
skill, his intimidating size and the fact that Jason was in agony from his
smashed elbow. He ignored every question, just sat and stared at the wall.

To every question from Vusi, Barry Smith mumbled 'Fuck
off.' Vusi felt the unease growing inside him, but he suppressed it and asked
the next question.

'Fuck off.'

In the other office, Bobby Verster told Griessel he
hadn't been on the tour. Last night by chance he had been with Barry and Eben
at the Purple Turtle when Jason had phoned. Barry had jumped up and told them
to come, and outside they had seen Jason and Steven chasing two girls down Long
Street. So they joined in the chase.

Griessel's body was sore, but he was filled with
euphoria from the breakthrough and the relief at finding Rachel. He stood up
from his chair and approached the table. He looked at

Bobby. Bobby looked away. 'Have you heard the one about
the little dog?' Griessel asked.

'What one?'

With suspicion.

Benny sat on the table, folded his arms carefully
across his chest and said in a mischievous, playful and friendly voice: 'The
one about the young dog that heard the big dogs talking about sex and how good
it felt to fuck. "What is fucking?" asked the young dog. "It's
the best thing ever, let's show you." The dogs ran up the street and found
a bitch on heat. The bitch ran away from the pack. They chased her, around and
around the block. After the fourth time around the block, the little dog said:
"Guys, I'm only fucking one more round and then I'm going home."'

Bobby Verster didn't laugh.

'You didn't get tired of all the chasing, Bobby?'
Benny Griessel asked.

Verster said nothing.

'Not even when they cut an innocent girl's throat?'

Bobby said he was shocked when Jason did it. He had
protested. But Steven Chitsinga told him: 'You're next if you don't shut your
mouth and help.' It scared him. But he didn't know what the hell was going on with
Jason and them.

'So were you forced?'

'Yes.'

'So actually, you are innocent?'

'Yes!'

'Would you make a statement to that effect? Just so we
can close your part of the case?' Griessel asked him.

'I will,' he answered eagerly.

Benny shifted pen and paper closer. Bobby wrote. 'Sign
it,' said Benny. Once Bobby was finished, Griessel read the statement out loud
to him. He asked: 'All this is the truth?'

'It is.'

'Then you are an accessory to murder. You are going to
jail, and you will sit there for a very long time.'

Bobby Verster's eyes widened. He protested, just as he
claimed he had done the previous night. 'But you said I was innocent!'

'No, I asked you if you were. Come, there's a police
van outside that will take you to Pollsmoor.'

'Pollsmoor?'

'Just until the bail hearing. In about a week or two.
Three.'

'Wait...'

Griessel waited.

Bobby Verster thought for a long time. Then he said:
'You're looking for Blake.'

'Who is Blake?'

'Do I still have to go to Pollsmoor?'

'Everything is negotiable.'

'Blake is the owner. Of Overland. We bring the people
in for him.'

'What people?'

'The blacks.'

'What blacks?'

'The blacks they put in the bins under the trailer.
From Zimbabwe. But they're not always Zimbabweans.'

'Illegal immigrants?'

'Something like that. I don't know. I've only been
helping with unloading about a month, but they won't tell me everything yet.'

'What is Blake's name?'

'Duncan. But we call him Mr B. He lives here in the
city, that's all I know.'

'Thank you very much.'

'Do I still have to go to Pollsmoor?'

'Yip.'

Fransman Dekker brought another two uniforms along
with him to AfriSound. They walked through the pack of journalists in the
little garden. He ignored the questions. One of the two Constables guarding the
door opened up for them. Dekker said: 'All of you come with me.' They climbed
the stairs in step, the detective in front, four uniforms behind him. They
walked through the reception area. Dekker smiled at Natasha. He felt
self-confident

for the first time today. Down the passage as far as
Mouton's office. He didn't knock, he just walked in.

The lawyer wasn't there.

'What now?' Mouton asked.

'The best thing about my job, the thing I enjoy most
of all, is arresting a whitey bastard,' said Dekker.

Mouton's Adam's apple bobbed wildly up and down, but
he couldn't get a word out. Dekker asked two Constables to keep an eye on
Mouton and walked out, beckoned the other two uniforms closer and opened Wouter
Steenkamp's door. The accountant was seated behind his computer.

'We know all about last night,' he said. Steenkamp
didn't bat an eyelid.

'He doesn't phone anyone, he doesn't move, he just
sits here,' said Dekker to the two uniforms. 'I'll be back soon.'

Griessel called Vusi and Mat Joubert. He held a quick
meeting in the station commander's office. He told them what Bobby Verster had
said. Once the detectives had finished discussing it, Vusi went back and told
Barry Smith: 'We're bringing in Mr B. We know everything.'

Barry Smith turned white. 'Fuck off,' he said, with
more venom.

'Murder,' said Vusi to him. 'Life sentence.'

'Fuck off, you black bastard.'

The injustices of the day bore down incredibly heavily
on Vusumuzi Ndabeni, but he shook them off one last time. Then Barry Smith
said: 'Fucking motherfucker,' and Vusi's temper exploded over him like the
mighty breakers on the Wild Coast. In one lightning move he reached the young
white man, and his fist struck his temple with all the power in the lean, neat
body behind it.

Barry's head jerked back and he toppled backwards,
chair and all. His head hit the floor with a dull thud. Vusi was there, on him,
jerking him up by the collar, shoving his face into Barry's and said: 'My
mother is a decent woman, do you hear?'

Then he let go of him and stood back, breathing
heavily. Vusi adjusted his jacket, realised his knuckles hurt and saw that
Barry's eyes had trouble focusing. Barry got unsteadily to his feet, looked
back, slowly picked up the chair, set it right and sat down. He put his hands
on the table in slow motion and dropped his head onto them, his palms obscuring
his face.

It was quite a while before Vusi realised that the
young man was crying. He pulled out a chair and sat down. He said nothing, not
trusting his voice: his rage had not subsided, the guilt was just a small dark
spot in his belly.

They sat like that for over a minute.

'My mother is going to kill me,' said Barry through
his hands.

'I can help you,' said Vusi.

Barry sobbed, making his whole body shake. Then he
began to talk.

Dekker sat opposite Mouton. He said: 'I know you
didn't shoot Adam Barnard. I know about the girl and the four guys chasing
her.'

'Five,' said Mouton, and then looked as if he could
bite off his tongue.

'Five,' said Dekker in satisfaction.