Heart of the Hunter

?They?re finding out. He bought a ticket with Comair.?

?Keep me informed.?

Quinn nodded, shifted the earphones back, and spoke quietly into the mike at his mouth.

?Rahjev, anything?? she asked the extremely fat Indian seated behind his computer.

?National Population Register lists nine Thobela Mpayiphelis. I?m checking birth dates. give me ten.?

She nodded.

Why had Monica Kleintjes chosen Mpayipheli? Who was he?

She stepped over to Radebe, who was on the phone talking to the Gauteng office. Someone had brought coffee and sandwiches. She didn?'t want coffee yet and she wasn'?t hungry. She went back to Quinn. He was just listening, glanced up at her, calm and competent.

An unbelievable team, she thought. This thing will be over before it has begun.

?He?s flying to Johannesburg,? said Quinn.

?He has only one bag with him??

?Just the one.?

?And we are absolutely sure Monica Kleintjes is at her house??

?She?s sitting in front of the TV in the sitting room. They can see her through the lace curtain.?

She considered the possibilities, ran through all the implications and scenarios. Mpayipheli must have the data. They could take it now and send their own team to Lusaka. Better control, with the RU as backup. Perhaps. Because it would be difficult to get Mazibuko and company into Zambia. Too many diplomatic favors. Too much exposure. The director might have to test his Reaction Unit some other time. The main issue: Keep it in the family. Keep it safe and under control.

?How good is the team at the airport??

?Good enough. Experienced,? said Quinn.

She nodded. ?I want them to bring Mpayipheli in, Quinn. Low-profile, I don'?t want a confrontation at the airport. Discreet and fast. Get him and his bag in a car and bring them here.?

* * *

He sat with his bag on his lap, and the awareness of isolation crept over him. He had been living with Miriam for more than a year now, more than a year of family evenings, and suddenly here he was alone again, as he had been in the old days.

He searched for a reaction in himself. Did he miss it? The answer surprised him, as he found no satisfaction in this privacy. After a lifetime of depending on himself, in twelve months they had changed his life. He wanted to be there, not here.

But he had to complete this task.

Johnny Kleintjes. The Johnny Kleintjes he knew would never have sold out. Something must have happened to change the old man. Who knew what was happening in the inner circles and walkways of the new government and the new intelligence services? It wasn'?t impossible, just improbable. Johnny Kleintjes was a man of integrity. And loyalty. A strong man with character. He would ask him when he saw him, when the data was handed over and Johnny got his money. If everything went off okay. It had to. He didn?'t feel like trouble, not anymore.

And then they were next to him, two gray suits. He hadn'?t seen them coming, and as they appeared beside him he started at the depth of his thoughts, the blunting of old skills.

?Mr. Mpayipheli,? said one.

?Yes.? Surprised they knew his name. They were right against him, preventing him from getting up.

?We want you to come with us.?

?What for??

?We represent the state,? said the second, holding a plastic ID up to his eyes, photo and national coat of arms.

?I have to catch a plane,? he said. His head was clear now, his body reacting.

?Not tonight,? said Number One.

?I don'?t want to hurt anybody,? said Thobela Mpayipheli.

Two laughed, hee-hee, amused. ?Is that so??

?Please.?

?I am afraid you don'?t have a choice, Mr. Mpayipheli.? He tapped the blue bag. ?The contents ??

What did they know? ?Please listen,? he said. ?I don'?t want trouble.?

The agent heard the note of pleading in the big Xhosa?s voice. He?s afraid, he thought. Use it. ?We could give you more trouble than you would ever imagine, big fellow,? he said, and pushed back the tail of his jacket to display the pistol, steel butt in a black shoulder holster. He stretched out his hand for the sports bag. ?Come,? he said.

?Ai, ai,? said Thobela Mpayipheli. In the time it took for the hand to reach the sports bag he had to make a decision. He had gleaned something from their behavior: They didn?'t want to cause a scene. They wanted to get him out of there quietly. He must use that. He saw One?s jacket gaping as his arm reached for the bag. He saw the pistol butt, reached up and took it, turned, stood up. One had the bag in his hand, his eyes wide with shock. Mpayipheli leaned into him with the pistol barrel at his heart. Two was behind Number One. Other passengers here and there had not seen anything amiss.