Trackers (45 page)

'And the little bitch is phoning her lawyer,' said Janina
Mentz, but without venom.

'I should have read the signs better when she assaulted me,' said
Masilo, and he stroked his cheekbone again. 'I miscalculated.'

'We should have read the signs better when we employed her.
She had the courage to walk out of her marriage ...'

Masilo
thought back to the rumour that Mentz, too, a decade ago, had left behind an
unhappy marriage with a straying husband, and wondered how much the Director
identified with Milla Strachan.

Operation Shawwal

Transcription:
Audio surveillance, M. Strachan. No 14 Daven Court,

Davenport Street, Vredehoek

Date and Time:
7 October 2009. 23.19

LB:
Why did you wait so long?

MS:
I
wonder about that every day. But then ... I think it
was ... there are so many reasons. I didn't know how a functional marriage
worked, I only knew my parents' one and I knew, at least, that that was not normal.
But what is
normal?
I
mean ...
When I looked around, everyone
had a marriage like that, the man and his career, the wife at home complaining
she didn't get enough attention. Two worlds, it was the norm, everyone
experienced it, everyone just got on with it. But it was more than that. If you
are depressed, if you lose your self-confidence, if you live in this daze, if
you don't have meaning and purpose, then every day just slips through your
fingers. It's the routine as well, so soul-destroying ... You don't think, you
don't really feel, even, I don't
know ...
if you've never experienced it,
it's probably hard
to ... I...
It's
such a slow, silent process, like the lobster in the pot of boiling water, you
get used to it, you don't realise it. And even if
you ...
I think Christo had his first
big affair ten years ago, but I was too naive then. Or maybe I didn't want
to ... I
only realised last year,
when ...
Lord, it is all so suburban...

LB:
If you would rather
not. . .

MS:
No, no, I want to, I've written about it in my diary, but
when I read it again lately, it's just
so ...
pathetic.
I...
all the signs were there, I was
just...
blind is not the right word. Blunted? Absent? I don't know, I was so awfully introverted
... He was in the shower, one evening, he had to go out again for a business
dinner, his cellphone was lying on the table, downstairs. I heard the SMS. I
still don't know what made me look, I had
never... It
was just so banal. About what she wanted to do with Christo,
that night. I remember how I thought it must have been sent to the wrong
number, it wasn't Christo. I mean, our
sex ...
when it still happened was
so ...
proper.

LB:
Milla . . .

MS:
I drove after him. To the Tyger Waterfront. Not even far
away. Just around the corner. Out in the open, at a restaurant. She looked
so ... I
don't know, ordinary, younger than him, but
not...
not someone who would send an SMS like that. I still wonder
if she knew she wasn't the only one, that he had three or four others, Barend
saw him with another one, a blonde, even younger, that's how he knew . . .

'Are we going to negotiate with her?'
Tau Masilo asked.

'Absolutely not,' said Mentz. 'Let
Mrs Killian call her. And say something like "You've been cleared, but we
had to be sure. We will deliver everything to your flat this evening".'
'And the microphones?' 'Leave them. Let's see how many they find.'

Milla drove through Table View in the five o'clock traffic.
She kept an eye on her rear-view mirror with the strong suspicion that they
were behind her, somewhere. But she saw nothing.

She crossed the N7. At Bothasig she turned left onto the N13.
She still couldn't spot any tails. It meant either that they weren't there, or
a bit further behind, and that was all she needed. She accelerated, driving as
fast as the traffic allowed, flashing her lights at slow cars, shooting past.

At the Altydgedacht junction, as she was about to turn right
to Tyger Valley, her cellphone rang.

'Hello?'

'Hello, Milla, this is Betsy Killian.'

Milla remained silent.

'I just want to say that the team and I are very sorry about
what happened.'

'Thank you.'

'And I can also tell you, your diaries and your laptop will
be delivered to your flat this evening.'

'So they
are
listening to
my phone calls.'

'Excuse me?'

'It doesn't matter. Mrs Killian, thank you for phoning. Just
ask them to tidy up everything, please.'

'I will pass the message on. They want you to sign for
delivery. What time will you be home?'

'No, Mrs Killian,' Milla said. 'I don't know when I will be
home. Tell them to put everything back where it belongs. They know how to get
in. Oh, and tell Advocate Masilo, if they return everything, I will drop the
interdict.'

'I will tell him.'

When she rang off, Milla wondered whether there was any other
reason for the call. She knew, from the operator's reports, that it was
possible to determine someone's position from a cellphone signal.

It didn't
matter either. She would leave the phone in the car when she went to call
Lukas.

Transcription:
Interrogation of Enoch Mangope by 5. Kgomo. Safe House,
Parkview,
Johannesburg

Date
and Time:
9 October 2009, 14.14

SK:
You were one of those who hijacked Becker's car on 13
September.

EM:
(No response.)

SK: I
am not from the police, it doesn't matter.

EM:
(No response.)

SK:
So, afterwards, where did Becker find you?

EM:
Joel Road. Berea.

SK:
Was he armed?

EM:
Yebo.

SK:
With a shotgun?

EM:
HhayiI iSistela.

SK:
A pistol.

EM:
Yebo.

SK:
And then?

EM:
Then he said, come with me.

SK:
Where did he take you?

EM:
Indlu. In Randburg. A town house.

SK:
Would you find the place again?

EM:
Kungaba . . .

SK:
Then, what did he do?

EM:
He tied me up. To the chair. Then he talked a lot.

SK:
What did he say?

EM:
He wanted his money.

SK:
What money?

EM:
The money that was in his bag.

SK:
Did you see the money?

EM:
(No response.)

SK:
Come on, Enoch,
I
told you, we are after
Becker, not you. Did you
the money?

EM:
Yebo.

SK:
How much was it?

EM:
Lots. English money. Pounds.

SK:
So, what did you tell him?

EM:
I didn't have his money.

SK:
And then?

EM:
He asked me, who did?

SK:
Yes?

EM:
Then
I
said nothing.

SK:
And then?

EM:
Then he didn't talk again, the whole night. No food, no
water. He kept
me
awake,
kaningi,
I couldn't sleep, because I was sitting like this.

SK:
When did you tell him Enoch? About Shabangu. Inkunzi.

EM:
The third day. He took me to the
amaphoyisa.

SK:
The police? I don't understand ...

EM:
He took me in the car, to the police. Then he said, I must
talk, or I would
go
to
ijele,
the jail.

SK:
In the police station?

EM:
Hhayi.
Outside.

EM:
And then you told him?

EM:
What could I do?

SK:
And then?

EM:
Then he phoned Inkunzi. And he let me go.

SK:
Did he torture you?

EM:
Kunganil

SK:
Did he hit you or something?

EM:
Hhayi.

SK:
Not at all?

EM:
(No response.)

SK:
Did he ask you about anything else? What was in the bag?

EM:
Like what?

SK:
Anything.

EM:
He just talked about the money.

SK:
Nothing else? Nothing?

EM:
Ma h ha la.

'She's stopped,' said Quinn over the car radios to her
trackers. 'In the Tyger Valley parking lot, the eastern side. Team One, how far
are you from the shopping centre?' 'About a kilometre ...'

'Hurry up. Park, and go and find her. Team Two, do the same.
Team Three, let us know when you get there, you have to cover her car.'
'Roger,' they responded, one after the other.

'We're plotting her cellphone now, we'll let you know more or
less where she is.'

She knew the Tyger Valley shopping centre, every nook and
cranny of it.

She hurried into Entrance 8, stopped abruptly and looked
around. People everywhere, walking in, walking out, but nothing that looked
suspicious.

She walked into the centre, slipped left into the Pick 'n'
Pay side entrance, then out again at the Durbell Pharmacy end, down the escalator,
turned left, ducked under the barrier at the cinema.