regime computer systems and databases since 1995. He retired at age sixty-two in 1997, after his wife died of cancer, and shares a house with their only daughter, Monica.?
She looked up. She had their attention still.
?The question is: What was Johnny Kleintjes doing at the American embassy? And the answer is that we don'?t know. Telephone monitoring of the Kleintjes household was initiated the same evening.?
She clicked the mouse. Another photo, black-and-white, of a woman, slightly plump, at the open door of a car, the coarse grain of the photo indicating that it had been taken at a distance with a telephoto lens.
?This is Monica Kleintjes, daughter of Johnny Kleintjes. A typical child of exiles. Born in London 1974, went to school there, and stayed on to complete her studies in computer science in 1995. In 1980 she was the victim of a car accident outside Manchester that cost her both legs. She gets around with prosthetic limbs and refuses to use crutches or any other aids. She is any personnel manager?s affirmatI've action dream and currently works for the technology division of Sanlam as senior manager.?
Mentz manipulated the keys on the keyboard. ?These are the major players that we have pictures of. The following conversations were recorded by our voice-monitoring team this afternoon.?
He sat with Pakamile at the kitchen table with the big blue atlas and the
They never read more than two pages, because Pakamile?s attention faded quickly, unless the article dealt with a terrifying snake or other predator. But tonight it was more difficult than usual to keep his attention. The boy?s eyes kept darting to the blue sports bag resting by the door. Eventually Mpayipheli gave up.
?I?'ve got to go away for a day or two, Pakamile. I have some work to do. I have to help an old friend.?
?Where are you going??
?First, you must promise to tell nobody.?
?Why??
?Because I want to give my friend a surprise.?
?Is it his birthday??
?Something like that.?
?Can?t I even tell Johnson??
?Johnson might tell his father, and his father might phone my old friend. It must be a secret between us three.?
?I won?t tell anyone.?
?Do you know where Zambia is on the map??
?Is it in ? eee ? Mpumalanga??
Miriam would have smiled, under normal circumstances, at her son?s wild guess. Not tonight.
?Zambia is a country, Pakamile. Let me show you.? Mpayipheli paged to a map of southern Africa. ?Here we are,? he said, pointing with his finger.
?Cape Town.?
?Yes. And up here is Zambia.?
?How are you going to get there, Thobela??
?I am going to fly on an airplane to here, in Johannesburg. Then I will get on another plane that is going to fly here over Zimbabwe or maybe here over Botswana to this place. It?s called Lusaka. It?s a city, like Cape Town. That?s where my old friend is.?
?How far is that, Thobela??
?Oh, about twenty-five hundred kilometers.?
?That is very far.?
?It is.?
?Will there be cake? And cool drink??
?I hope so.?
?I want to come, too.?
He laughed and looked at Miriam. She just shook her head.
?One day, Pakamile, I will take you. I promise.? ?Bedtime,? said Miriam. ?When are you going to fly?? ?Just now, when you are sleeping.? ?And when are you coming back??
?Only about two sleeps. Look after your mother, Pakamile. And the vegetable garden.?
?I will. Will you bring me back some cake??
?The wild card is Thobela Mpayipheli,? said Janina Mentz. ?We don'?t know why Monica Kleintjes went to him. You heard the conversations? he is also known as Tiny, works at Mother City Motorrad, a BMW motorbike dealership, lives with Miriam Nzu-lulwazi in Guguletu. We know she is the registered owner of the house, nothing else. Kleintjes went by taxi to the house, stayed just over forty minutes, and went straight home. Since then neither Mpayipheli
