are big-city Press boys they’ve got down there-they’re not so easy to tame.”
“I was thinking of administrative troubles, actually. You know how the Brigadier is about protocol.”
“I’m sure you were.”
“It’s the truth, sir. No need for any rough stuff on this trip-we’ll just pick him up and bring him back.”
“And if Captain Potgeiter sees you? What then?”
“I’ll tell him you’ve fixed it up at the top. He can’t argue with your rank.”
“If it’s all so simple, why not let Potgeiter do it for you?”
“I thought it would look better in your report if it all came from this division, sir.”
The Colonel blinked balefully at him from the ropes. One day he would win.
“I’ll see about it, Lieutenant. In the meantime, is there anything you can give me to show the Brigadier?”
“I don’t think so. It might not be wise-so much is still up in the air. But you’ve helped me a lot with it. Thanks.”
“Don’t be too cocky. What if you can’t find this Lenny?”
“Then I’ll pick up a photo of him and start looking elsewhere. Here, for example.”
“And if you still don’t find him?”
“We’ll know that there’s a pretty good chance he’s gone the way of his sister. Better than nothing.”
“Hmmm, tell you what,” the Colonel said, holding his paper-knife by the tip, “you wrap this case up by tomorrow night or I’m going to put the whole squad on it. You seem to have overlooked the fact that my Press statement, which you made so much fuss about, has been the biggest help to you so far. Without it there would have been no old woman and no brother.”
It was a draw.
Van Niekerk was waiting for Kramer with a sheet of Telex in his hand. He was surprised when it was ignored, and perturbed by the expression that went with the snub.
“Trouble, sir?” he asked.
“What’s Durban got to say?”
“A bit more than we know already. Leon Charles Francis got a year in Doringboom Reformatory for theft- while he was there he received a total of fourteen strokes with the heavy cane.”
“Give here.”
“Six for committing an indecent act and eight for serious assault.”
“I said give here! ”
Kramer snatched the paper away and glared at it. The next paragraph read:
“ HELD ON SUSPICION THREE OCCASIONS SINCE RELEASE. ASSAULTS, TWO GBH. INSUFFICIENT EVIDENCE. PROBABLE CONNECTION WITH SOME GANG. LIVES IT UP.”
And that was all.
“This the best they could do?”
“Well, he’s not what you might call big stuff, sir. Even Trekkersburg has more of them than we can keep tabs on.”
“I suppose so. But this ‘insufficient evidence’ bit shows he’s good at his work.”
“Oh, yes. I wasn’t saying he doesn’t sound a really bad bugger.”
“Well, we know who we mustn’t show this to,” Kramer said, nodding in the direction of Room 18.
“Oh, she was asking for you. Wondering if she can go home now.”
“Not until we get sonny boy. He warned her to keep away from here so there’s no telling what he might do now.”
“What’s the plan then, sir? Take her to the cells?”
“I know a place, leave it to me. By the way, how are you fixed for tonight?”
“Want me to come down to Durban?”
“Actually I need a bloke here in case anyone phones in. You never know.”
Van Niekerk adjusted his tie and outlook. He cleared his throat.
“Fine, sir. I’ll just ring the wife.”
“You do that. When Khumalo comes on, tell him to bring up the stretcher from the library-or you can have a spare bed from the barracks if you prefer.”
“I’ll be all right, sir. Probably have the best sleep in weeks without the kids.”
Kramer wondered about that.
The cottage stood on the fringe of the sewage farm, surrounded by the most verdant vegetation Trekkersburg had to offer outside the Botanical Gardens. Six blue gum trees teetered behind it and strips of pink bark lay strewn on its rusty corrugated iron roof. The setting sun put a blush on the whitewashed walls, glinted off the windows which had glass, and gave the children in the clearing their own leaping shadows to chase.
Mrs Francis peered at the couple waiting in the doorway to discover what brought a big flashy car their way down the rough track. You could tell she liked the look of them.
Then the man recognised Kramer up front in the passenger’s seat and came running out.
“What a pleasure, Mr Kramer,” he said, opening the door for him.
“How’s it, Johannes?”
“Fine! Mary’s here to greet you, too, and the kids!”
Aware of Zondi’s gaze, Kramer attempted a bluff manner but gave in to the children’s teasing. One of their little friends edged his way into the circle to see what manner of white man could cause such excitement.
“Just a minute, I’ve got a visitor for you,” Kramer protested, and he let Mrs Francis out.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
“What does she want here?” Johannes demanded. “She’s from a church? Sorry, we don’t want your charity, madam.”
Mrs Francis’s sudden smile threw him.
“Can’t you recognise your own kind yet?” Kramer chided. “This is Mrs Francis who has come up from Claremont for a few days. I want you to look after her.”
“Of course,” Mary said, pushing her husband aside and taking Mrs Francis by the hand. “Come along with me. We’ll both have some tea before it’s time for the children to come in.”
Without a backward glance, Mrs Francis went. And so did the children.
“No luggage?” Johannes asked thoughtfully.
“None. She came up on the bus to find out about a relative. Maybe she’ll tell you about it later.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How are things then, Johannes? How’s Katrina?”
“The same.”
“Uhuh.”
“But she likes it better in the hospital now. They give her work to do-she makes baskets for dirty washing.”
“That’s good.”
“You understand my sister, Mr Kramer. Now don’t you worry about this lady you brought. She’ll be safe and sound with us till you want her.”
“Don’t throw her out before Sunday, anyway,” Kramer grinned. “Bye for now.”
Zondi started up and drove off as Kramer’s door slammed shut.
“What was that talk about old Katrina, boss? Have they cured her of killing her babies yet?”
“Hell, no. It’s just that she hasn’t been raped lately. You black buggers are slacking.”
Infanticide and rape, both capital offences, were very much on Moosa’s mind as he waited in his room for Zondi to appear with his next assignment. If the Pillay baby on the other side of the wall did not shut up, he would go round and strangle it. And while he was there, with the voluptuous Mrs Pillay presumably in a dead faint, he would make a night of it.
Gogol banged open the door and confronted him, his fez wildly askew.
“Moosa!”
The Fiend of Trichaard Street cowered against the wall.
“Moosa, you just telling me what damn tricks you are up to! Five Coca Colas and a Pepsi?”
