?Can you find out??
?I don'?t know. ??
?Nic, I?m asking nicely? .?
?I?ll look into it. And get back to you.?
?Another thing. There are rumors that Mpayipheli was involved with drugs on the Cape Flats. ??
?Yes??
?Who would know??
?Richter. At Narcotics.?
?Would you?? ?Okay.? ?Thanks, Nic.?
?Till the day I die I will feel responsible for that man,? said the minister of water affairs and forestry. He sat silhouetted against the window, the late-morning light forming a halo around him. Janina wondered if it was sorrow that made his voice so heavy.
?I was chief of staff: operations. I had to make the decision. We owed the Germans so much.?
He rubbed his hands over his broad face, as if he could wipe something away. ?That?s not relevant now,? he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He folded his hands as if to pray.
?Once every six months I had a visitor from Berlin. A goodwill visit, you might say. A verbal progress report, nothing on paper, a diplomatic gesture to let me know how Tiny was getting on. How pleased they were with him. ?He is a credit to your country.? It was always a tall, lean German. They were all lean. Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.? Every time they would update the score. Like a sport. ?He has done six.? Or nine. Or twelve.?
The minister of water affairs and forestry unfolded his hands and crossed his arms on his chest.
?They used him seventeen times. Seventeen.? His eyes leaped from the minister to the director to Janina. ?The one they couldn'?t talk enough about was Marion Dorffling. CIA. A legend. Thirty or forty eliminations? it boggles the mind. Those were strange times, a strange war. And Umzingeli got him. Sniffed him out, tracked him for weeks.?
He smiled with fond nostalgia. ?That was my suggestion, Umzingeli. The hunter. That was his code name.?
He shook his head slowly from side to side; the memories were incredible. He had forgotten them; for a minute or longer he was absent from the room. When he began to speak again his voice was lighter.
?He came to see me. Two months before the ?ninety-four elections. My secretary, well, there were so many people wanting to talk to me, she didn?'t tell me. She thought she was doing right to keep them away. Late one afternoon she came in and said, ?There?s this big guy who won?t go away? and when I went to see, there he was, looking apologetic and saying he was sorry to bother me.?
The head shook again. ?Sorry to bother me.?
Janina Mentz wondered where this was leading, whether there was a point to all this meandering. Impatience welled up in her.
?I was ashamed that day. He told me what had happened since the fall of the Wall. His German masters had disappeared overnight. His pay had dried up. He didn?'t know where to turn. And it was open season on him, because the West had ahold of the Stasi dossiers and he knew they would come after him. It was a new world and everyone wanted to forget, except the ones who were hunting him. No one at our London office knew him; they were new personnel, knew nothing about him and didn?'t want to know. He lay low for a while, and when he eventually came home and came to me for work, I said I would help, but the elections came and the new government and I forgot about him. I simply forgot.?
The minister of water affairs and forestry stood suddenly, giving Janina a fright. ?I am wasting your time,? he said. ?It is my fault, I must take the blame. It is my fault he found another livelihood. But I want to say this. Something happened to that man, because if he were still Umzingeli, there would be at least four dead bodies for you to explain. If you can work out why he spared them, you have a chance of bringing him in.?
21.
Thank you, sir,? she said to the small Zulu on the stairs outside. He stopped with a serious frown on his face. ?Not at all, Janina. I was just being honest. I really do think it is an ingenious operation.?
?Thank you, sir.?
?Why didn?'t you say anything??
?About your name being on the list??
He nodded.
?I didn?'t think it relevant to the purpose of the meeting.?
He nodded again and walked slowly down the steps. She stayed where she was.
?Are you Inkululeko, sir??
He walked to the bottom and turned and looked up at her with a faint smile before setting off on the long walk back to the office.
He lay in the back of the El Camino on an old mattress alongside the R1150 GS lying incongruously on its side. The baggage cases were removed and it lay next to the carton of stolen mutton (?A little something toward redistribution of wealth, I?m a
