The Nigerian Mafia? We must have you back for a radio show all of your own, Anonymous. So what made you quit dealing?
I did time. I?m rehabilitated now.
There you have it. Strange but true.
This is a strange country, John, believe me.
Amen, brother.
He lay on the floor, breathing the dust. Footsteps sounded as if they were circling the motorbike. Then a voice called.
?Helloooo ??
Instinctively he looked around for a weapon, cursing himself for not keeping the soldier?s assault rifle. He could break a leg off the table. He stopped one stride away. No more violence, no more fighting. Implications ran through his mind. Did this mean the journey was over, could he go home? It meant Johnny Kleintjes was fucked; he stood in limbo between instinct and desire.
?Hello, the house ?? A man?s voice. Afrikaans. Was it the farmer?
His hands hung by his sides but were clenching open and shut.
?Thobela?? he heard the voice say his name. ?Thobela Mpayipheli??
Soldiers, he thought, adrenaline flowing through his veins. One step to the table, he grabbed one wooden leg in his hands and pressed his foot against the tabletop. No, said his mind, no, let it be over.
Go ahead, Elise, what is your take on this unfolding drama?
Two things, John. First, I don'?t believe this drug business at all. Why is it that people always want to drag someone down the moment they hit the limelight? Second, I am the secretary of the Pretoria BMW Motorcycle Club, and I just want to say we don'?t need the Hell?s Angels to act on our behalf. Mr. Mpayipheli is riding a BMW, and if anybody helps him, it will be the BMW motorcycle fraternity. I don'?t know how the Hell?s Angels with their Harleys are going to travel on the gravel roads of the Northern Cape.
So the fugitive is a member of a BMW club?
No, John, but he rides a BMW.
And that gives you ownership.
We don'?t own him, John. But neither do the Hell?s Angels.
What?s this about gravel roads?
Mr. Mpayipheli slipped through the roadblocks by traveling on gravel roads. He?s on a GS, you know.
And what is a GS?
It?s an on road/off road motorcycle.
Like a scrambler?
No. Yes, I suppose you could call it a scrambler with a thyroid condition.
Ha. Now there?s the quote of the day. How do you know he slipped through a roadblock?
It is all on our website, John.
Your website?
Yes. www.bmwmotorrad.co.za. We have inside information.
And just how is your website getting inside information?
Oh, policemen ride BMWs, too, you know.
?I?m coming inside, Thobela, don'?t shoot. I?m your friend.? don'?t shoot. They still thought he was armed.
?I?m on my own, Thobela, be nice.? The door opened. ?I?m on your side, my brother.?
He waited the space of a single heartbeat and dropped his shoulder in readiness.
* * * ?I can?t get it,? said Rahjev Rajkumar. The web browser showed an error message:
The page cannot be displayed. The page you are looking for is currently unavailable. The website might be experiencing technical difficulties, or you may need to adjust your browser settings.
?Motorrad has two rs,? said Vincent Radebe softly.
?How do you know?? said Rajkumar nastily.
?It?s German for ?motorcycle.? ?
He typed in the new address. This time the website loaded. At the top, under the page title were the words FOLLOW THE GS fugitive? AN INSIDE STORY.
* * * He stood with his feet apart, shoulder lowered, the internal battle raging, knowing it was his moment of truth, knowing this was where he would win or lose? on so many levels.
The door swung slowly wider. The voice was soft and soothing. ?I am a man of peace.?
A colored man, dressed in tattered suit, anonymous gray shirt, and a bow tie that could have been red in a
