The Cape Times broke the story more than five hours ago, John. If the fugitive is guilty of anything, why has the government not stepped forward to set the record straight?
I see where you are going. What do you think is happening here?
I think the government is once again trying to cover up, John. I wouldn'?t be surprised if some form of corruption or something similar is involved. I?m not saying that?s it. I?m just saying I will not be surprised. I?m working on several new leads, and the Cape Times will have a full story tomorrow morning.
Thank you very much, Allison Healy crime reporter of a Cape-based newspaper. This is John Modise and you are tuned to SAFM. The lines are open now; if you have an opinion on the matter, please call us. And remember, the subject this morning is the fugitive motorcyclist, so let?s stick to that?
?Monica Kleintjes,? said Janina. ?We will have to bring her in, too. Before the media flock to her door.?
?Right, ma?am,? said Quinn. ?But what about her telephone, if they call again from Lusaka??
?Can you redirect the line here??
?I can.?
Janina?s thoughts were jumping around. How had the Healy woman got that information? How had she made the connection between Mpayipheli and Nzululwazi? What could be done to slow her down?
? Pretoria chapter of the Hell?s Angels. Good morning, Burt.
Good morning, John. What we want to know is where the man is. Do you have information?
We know he was in the vicinity of Three Sisters at six o?clock this morning, Burt. Where he is now is anybody?s guess. Why are you asking?
Because he?s our brother, man. And he?s in trouble.
Your brother?
All bikers are part of a greater brotherhood, John. Now, you may have heard a lot of untruths about the Angels, but I can tell you, when one of our brothers is in trouble, we help.
And how do you think you will be able to help?
Any way we can.
Rajkumar made a deprecating sound and turned the volume down. ?All the worms are creeping out of the woodwork,? he said. ?No,? said Janina. ?Leave it on.?
* * * He dozed shallowly, fitfully crossing the border of sleep, dreams and reality mixing. He was riding the GS down infinite roads, feeling the faint vibration of the bike in his legs, talking to Pakamile, hearing the rain on the roof of the cottage and then the sucking sound of tires in the mud, an engine at low revs, but he only really woke up to the bang of a car door. He rolled off the mattress, continued rolling up to the wall beneath the window.
Anonymous from Mitchell?s Plain, go ahead, you are on the air.
Hello, John, can you hear me?
You are on the air, go ahead.
I?m on the air?
Yes, Anonymous, the whole country can hear you.
Oh. Well. I just wanted to say this Mpayipheli is not the hero you make him out to be.
We are not making him into a hero. We are letting the facts speak. What have you got for us?
I don'?t know if it is the same guy, but there was a Thobela Mpayipheli working for a drug dealer in Mitchell?s Plain. Big black man. Mean as a junkyard dog. And they were saying he was ex-MK. They used to call him ?Tiny.?
Working for a drug gang?
Yes, John. He was what we call an ?enforcer.?
?We,? Anonymous? Who are ?we??
I used to be a drug dealer in the Cape Flats.
You were a drug dealer?
Yes.
In Mitchell?s Plain?
No. I worked from the southern suburbs.
Sounds like a franchise business. And what does an ?enforcer? do, Anonymous?
He makes sure the dealers pay the supplier. By beating them up or shooting them. Or their families.
And Mpayipheli worked as an enforcer for a supplier?
He worked for the biggest supplier in the Peninsula at the time. That was before the Nigerian Mafia came to town. These days, they run the show.
