Authors: Deon Meyer
She knew nothing of the man and woman whose voices she was
hearing. She only knew their code names.
She was aware of the impressive sensitivity of the high-tech
microphones, picking up every sound with great clarity - the soft footstep on
the floor, the creak of a chair, the clink of mugs, the tinkle of teaspoons.
And the voices. The woman telling the story of her life, the man asking gently
probing questions. They talked about the pros and cons of a small-town
upbringing. About parents. They moved to another room. She said: 'They were two
Afrikaner-hippies,
my mom and dad. Very eccentric,
very different from other children's parents. I still don't know if it... what
effect it had on me. There was a time when I was so ashamed of them ...' The
sound of a car passing in the street.
The operator listened with an open mind: her only focus was
registering information that could be relevant to Operation Shawwal. But what
she heard was a man and woman talking about life, about childhood and growing
up, about all the things that had shaped them.
And later, to her discomfort, she heard a man and woman's
intimacy. She heard them go quiet after midnight. And then the subtle sounds
began to tell a story of physical contact and caresses, until the woman, the
mystical Miss Jenny, gave utterance to her intense pleasure, in breath and
voice, the sounds from her throat.
The
operator found little eroticism in that. Because tomorrow, when Quinn listened
to it, he would know that she had heard it too.
8 October 2009. Thursday.
When the American team walked in, there were four of them.
Mentz was surprised, as she knew only two of them. 'My, my,
how you've grown,' she said.
'Janina, how are you? Tau, good to see you again. I'd like to
introduce two of my colleagues,' said Bruno Burzynski, the Bureau Chief of the
CIA in Southern Africa, big, athletic and bald. 'This is Janet Eden, and this
is Jim Grant. And you already know Mark.'
When the greetings were over and they were seated around the
table, she said to Burzynski, 'And what is it that your colleagues do, Bruno?'
'Agricultural secretaries, of course.'
She smiled. 'On behalf of the Minister, thank you for coming
at such short notice. He sends his regards.'
'It's always a pleasure. Tell him we said "hi".'
'Anybody for coffee? Tea? Water?'
'We're good, thank you.'
'Please help yourself to the refreshments behind you if you
change your mind ... Now, if I may, let's get right down to business. As you
probably know, our government submitted a SOLAS Chapter Five request
internationally yesterday, for a fishing vessel. The matter at hand concerns
this ship, a stern trawler,' and she clicked the remote to activate Powerpoint
on the big screen. 'The Vessel Identifier is ERA112, and it's registered under
the Namibian flag, the name on the bow is
The
Madeleine.
It was sold by a Walvis Bay company about three weeks ago.
Unfortunately, a preliminary SOLAS report indicates that it is not running
LRIT and AIS, which makes it very difficult to find. And we need to find it as
a matter of great urgency. That is why the Minister suggested that we ask our
good friends, the United States Government, for assistance in this matter. He
and the President would appreciate it very much.'
'It would be an honour to help, if we can, of course. May I
ask who the new ship owners are?'
She had expected the question. 'A rather unsavoury group of
people who are intent on undermining our national security.'
'I see,' he said, once he realised she was not going to add
anything more. 'And what sort of assistance did the Minister have in mind?'
'The Minister has great respect and admiration for the vast
array of technological wizardry at the disposal of the United States
Government, particularly the ability of BASIC, the Broad Area Surveillance
Intelligence Capacity.'
'The Minister is well-informed.'
'He prides himself on it. And he was wondering whether the
United States would be willing to help protect our budding young democracy, by
making these facilities available to us. To find the ship, of course.'
Burzynski nodded slowly, as though he were first thinking it
over. 'Janina, as you know, The US Government, and particularly the CIA, is
dedicated to maintaining and strengthening the friendship with our much valued
allies in South Africa. And if we can help in any way, we will most definitely
do our very best, as always. But you do understand the costs involved, in terms
of both manpower and resources, should we agree to a satellite search?
Especially if they are not running LRIT. The ship has been missing for weeks,
and there is time pressure.'
'Please educate me.'
'It becomes a world-wide search, Janina. They could be
anywhere. The logistics are huge.'
'I understand ...'
'I'm not saying we can't help. But in order to ... shall we
say, motivate my superiors, I'm going to need ammunition.'
'Of course you are. That's why the Minister has prepared this
letter ...' She pushed it across the table to Burzynski. 'You will see that he
refers to the case as a matter of both national and international security, and
of the utmost urgency.'
'And?'
'And he expresses his most heartfelt gratitude.'
'So noted. But with all due respect, Janina, we are going to
need more than that.'
'Such as?'
'The nature and scale of the threat. Especially concerning
the international implications.'
'Unfortunately, we are not in a position to give you much
more at this time. But if you can help us find the vessel, and we unearth any
intelligence the CIA might be interested in, I give you my word that we will
pass it along.'
'Janina, that's not going to cut it.'
'That is a real pity. I would have thought it the ideal
opportunity for the CIA to ... regain our trust.'
'I'm not following you.'
'I'm sure you do, but it's not all that important right now.
May I ask you to take the request, as it stands, to Langley?'
'Are there trust issues I'm not aware of, Janina?'
'I honestly don't know what you are aware of, Bruno. Will you
forward our request?'
'Of course, I'll do my very best.'
'Thank you very much.'
There was a gap between Milla and reality, a soft cushion, a
light mist.
Her body could still feel him, she could still smell and
taste him. His words, his stories still swirled in her head.
Oom Theunie stood beside her and put his arm around her shoulder.
'Is everything OK?'
She reacted slowly, looked up, smiled. 'Oh, yes.' 'You seem a
bit absent this morning.' 'I'm fine.'
And she thought, so this is what it feels like to be in love.
At forty.
'We lost Becker,' the operator said.
'How?' asked Quinn. He kept the disappointment out of his
voice. 'At the airport. He took the Toyota back to Tempest Car Hire. Then he
went to the departures hall. We didn't expect that, by the time we got there he
was gone ...' 'How long ago?'
'Five ... six minutes. The check-in queues are long, he
wasn't in one of them. I don't believe he took a flight. I think he left the
building somewhere.'
'That means he saw you.' 'Sir, that's impossible ...' 'Keep
looking. I'll get back to you.'
Quinn cursed, stood up and jogged over to Rajkumar's team. He
wanted to know if Becker had bought a plane ticket, and why they didn't know
about it.
'Jissis,
Quinn,' said Masilo.
Quinn knew under how much pressure his boss was operating. He
kept his voice calm. 'We'll find him.'
'You will, indeed. I am
not
going to walk into that woman's office and tell her we don't know where he is.'
'We will get him, because we have a point of reference,' he
said quietly.
'What?'
'Miss Jenny. He spent the night with her. We will wait for
him there.' 'I'm not so sure.'
Burzynski phoned her just after lunch. 'Janina, I'm assuming
the line on your side is secure as well?' 'It is.'
'Good. I've just had a lengthy video conference with Langley,
and I have some really great news. We are going to help you find the ship.'
'Bruno, that is great news. I am deeply in your debt.' 'No, Janina, please. In
matters of friendship, debt is irrelevant.'
In Masilo's office, Janina Mentz was surprised that the
Advocate didn't respond happily to the CIA news. 'That confirms it all,' she
said.
'I had my doubts about Becker and the CIA,' he said. 'But you
were right. They warned him. That we know. He shook off our team, this
afternoon. He's disappeared.' 'Christ, Tau ...' She sat down.
He lifted his hands in justification. 'In retrospect it was
to be expected. But Quinn says it is temporary He will make contact with Miss
Jenny again.' 'I doubt it.'
'So do I. But there are questions, ma'am, things I don't
understand. Why was the CIA interested in Shabangu? Why would they want to
eliminate him?'
'I don't think it was an elimination,' said Mentz. 'Look how
it happened. In his bedroom. Why go to all that trouble if you could shoot him
on the street? Or put a bomb in his BMW?' 'Valid point.'
'I think it was a negotiation that went wrong. Or an
interrogation.' Masilo pondered that. 'We will find out.'
'If he contacts Miss Jenny ... don't let Becker out of your
sight.'
Becker phoned Milla as she drove her Renault back to the
flat. 'When last did you climb Lion's Head?'
She had been looking forward to this moment all day, the joy
inside her was instant. 'Never.'
'It's full moon, and I have a bottle of champagne.'
'I'll buy some food at Melissa's.'
'Perfect. Not too much, we will have to carry it. See you in
an hour.'
Milla stopped in front of the apartment building, cellphone
in her hand, and only then did she think how there had been something in his
tone, in the voice she had listened so carefully to for the last three evenings
and now knew so well. A discordant note, subtly different. As though he were
straining for enthusiasm, but just not quite making it.
Was she imagining it? Was it just that the signal was weak?
She looked at the phone in her hand, noticed for the first
time that it was not the usual number, the one that she had saved with such a
sense of significance in her contacts under 'Lukas'.
'He's using another cellphone and SIM card,' the surveillance
operator said to Quinn. But we've got it now.'
'Do you have his position?'
'We do. Milnerton. Marine Drive, he's mobile, but the
cellphone is off now. We will keep scanning.'
Quinn looked up at the TV screens in the Ops Room. The video
feed showed the outside of Milla's apartment block - the camera was mounted on
the roof of the apartment building across the road. He had three teams in cars
nearby. 'Did you hear that?' he asked them. 'He's on his way.'
'We heard. We're standing by.'
At 18.17 the taxi stopped in front of Daven Court. A man got
out.
'It's him,' said Quinn.
'He's taking a taxi now?' the female operator beside him
asked.
'Get the number of the taxi. I want to know where he was
picked up.'
Quinn stared fixedly at the image. 'And take note that he has
only a rucksack with him.'
'Sir?'
'He checked out of the guest house this morning. Where's his
luggage?'
It was a moment before she registered. 'He's not moving in
with Miss Jenny. He's found somewhere else to stay.'
'Precisely,' said Quinn.
When he came in, he embraced and kissed her, the Lukas of
last night, all the warmth there.
It was just the phone, she thought.
They busied themselves in the kitchen, packing the rucksack.
'I'm temporarily without transport, would you mind if we took your car?'
'Not at all.'
On the way to Lion's Head she realised he was quieter than
usual, though he held her hand. She asked him: 'How was your day?'
'It was busy,' he said.
He was tired, she realised. Of course he was tired, they
hadn't had much sleep, he must have had a difficult day, she didn't even know
what it was that kept him busy.
Relief. She squeezed his hand and said, 'If you would prefer
to relax, we don't have to climb the mountain.'
He laughed, full of tenderness and gratitude. 'It wasn't
that
busy, thanks.'