away, I will be back. If anything happens to him or Emma, ever, I will be back. I will show you, then, what kind of a coward I am.’
He nodded, not impressed. Then he leaned forward and swivelled the laptop so I could see the screen. ‘Mr Lemmer, keep one thing in mind. Should anything happen to me, the following material will be handed over to the authorities.’ He clicked a key and an image appeared on the screen in high resolution. I was standing in front of him with my back to the camera and I hit him. He fell back against the glass and sank to the ground.
Jeanette moved in between us and shoved me away. ‘Leave him.’ Her voice was as clear as glass.
‘I’m going to kill him.’
Wernich froze the image on the frame, leaving me standing over him and Jeanette restraining me.
‘Good sound quality,’ I said.
‘Our technology is top drawer.’
I had been leaning against the Porsche for ten minutes before Jeanette strolled up and unlocked the door. ‘Let’s go.’
Only once we were both seated did she take a DVD out of her pocket and drop it casually on my lap. ‘There you are,’ she said.
‘Did you have any difficulty?’
‘There’s nothing like a nine-millimetre against a man’s head to make him listen,’ she said.
‘You’re wilder than a wild dog.’ I plagiarised Dr Koos Taljaard’s phrase.
She merely laughed, started the Porsche and drove off. Then she described it.
She had waited until I went into Wernich’s office before asking Louise where the video control room was. At first Louise wouldn’t cooperate. Jeanette threatened to break her fingernails. ‘Her eyes were this big. Like I was some kind of barbarian.’
Louise reluctantly led her to the room to the rear of the building, the door unmarked. The secretary merely pointed a finger and walked away with huge dignity.
Jeanette had opened the door. The room was half dark, not very big. There was a bank of television screens encircling a man behind a control panel. The man was broad and strong with a bushy moustache; the hair that touched the top of his ears and collar was grey at the temples. She pointed the Colt at him and said, ‘Who are you?’
‘Loock.’ He looked her up and down and said, ‘You are Louw.’
‘Only when I’m not high.’
He wasn’t amused. ‘What do you want?’
‘Turn up the sound a bit, so we can hear what the men are saying.’ She gestured at the screens that displayed Wernich and me in his office.
They listened to our exchange and watched silently in the twilight of the room up to the point where I left. ‘I want a copy of that, please,’ she said
He had snorted with disdain. She shot a hole through the first monitor.
‘I didn’t hear anything,’ I said.
‘His place is soundproof and dustproof. Probably waterproof too. Well, not any more. I had to damage the roof as well before he would make that DVD.’
She had shot three screens and a hole in the roof before he unhurriedly and mechanically burned a copy of the recording on a DVD. Then she hit him on the cheekbone with her Colt as hard as she could. His head jerked back and blood ran down his moustache.
‘He lifted his head and looked at me like a python at a spring-hare.’
‘Thanks, Jeanette.’
‘No, Lemmer, I’m the one who should say thank you,’ she said, and grinned in self-satisfaction.
I phoned B. J. Fikter. He said Jacobus le Roux had been talking to Emma for the past two hours. The police guard had been withdrawn.
‘I’ll come and relieve you tomorrow,’ I said.
‘Thank God,’ he said, and ended the call.
‘What now?’ Jeanette asked.
‘Now we are going to get your lovely receptionist, Jolene Freylinck, to make us a copy of this DVD.’
‘Only one?’
‘That’s all we need.’
‘Lemmer, I don’t agree. We ought to give one to each prospective member of his BEE board.’
‘Why? So they can fire him?’
‘It’s a start.’
‘But not a good ending.’
‘I suppose you have a better idea?’
‘I do. It will cost you a plane ticket.’
‘To Nelspruit?’
‘No. A little farther than that,’ I said.
‘What’s your plan?’
‘I think it’s better if you don’t know.’
She thought it over and I suppose she agreed, although she wasn’t happy about it. She banged the Porsche down a gear and floored the accelerator. The G-forces pressed us against the seats with an invisible hand.
The office looked out over the sea, but the antique air conditioner made too much noise for us to hear the breakers.
I faced a man the colour of dusk. He was deep in his sixties, hair snowy white, but the scar that stretched from the corner of his mouth to his ear was just as clear as when I had met him for the first time ten years earlier. His eyes were still vacant, as though the person behind them had died inside. He was a man who no longer cared about feeling pain and who felt a certain pressure to dish it out.
I slid the DVD case across the desk towards him.
‘You will need an interpreter,’ I said.
‘For which language?’ His accent was strong.
‘Afrikaans.’
‘You can translate for me.’
‘I think we would both prefer an objective translation.’
‘I see.’ He reached for the holder and opened it. The disc gleamed, silver and new. ‘May I ask you why you are doing this?’
‘I would like to say it is because I believe in justice, but that wouldn’t be true. It’s because I believe in revenge.’
He nodded slowly and closed the case.
‘I know,’ he said, and put out his hand. ‘We are like family.’
As I walked out into the oppressive heat of Maputo, capital of Mozambique, at noon, my cell phone beeped above the hiss of the Indian Ocean. I took it out of my pocket and beckoned a taxi. I checked the message.
Three words only: EMMA IS AWAKE.
49
I must confess that I had expectations about the moment I would walk into Emma’s hospital room.
Not unreasonable expectations, such as Emma opening her arms and embracing me, whispering her gratitude and love in my ear. More along the lines of me sitting on the bed and she taking my hand and saying, ‘Thank you, Lemmer.’ That would have been good enough for me, a start, and a prelude to future possibilities.
But Jack Phatudi deprived me of that.
On Friday, 4 January he sent Black and White, the pair who had followed Emma and me a lifetime ago, to
