?Yes, that is what I want.?
?What else??
?We need to know why he has not given himself up yet.?
?That you must ask him yourself.? Because if everything was as they said, then she did not understand, either.
?We would dearly love to. We hoped you would help us to get him to understand.?
?How can I? I don'?t know what he thinks. I don'?t know what happened.?
?But you know him.?
?He went to help a friend, that is all I know.?
?What did he say before he left??
?I have already told the colored man who came to my house. Why must I say it again? There is nothing more. Nothing. I will keep quiet, I will talk to nobody, I swear it to you, but you must let me go now.?
He saw she was close to breaking, he knew she was telling the truth. He wanted to reach out and comfort her. He also knew she would not tolerate it. Radebe stood. ?You are right, ma?am,? he said. ?I will see to it.?
24.
He had to stretch his legs, the cramps were creeping up on him, and his shoulder throbbed. The nest under the tarpaulin was too small now, too hot, too dusty. The shuddering over the dirt roads? how far still to go?? he needed air, to get out, it was going too slowly, the hours disappearing in the monotonous drone of the Chevy. Every time Koos Kok reduced speed he thought they had arrived, but it was just another turn, another connection. His impatience and discomfort were nearly irrepressible, and then the Griqua stopped and lifted the sail with a theatrical gesture and said, ?The road is clear, Xhosa,
He was blinded by the sudden midday sun. He straightened stiffly, allowing his eyes to adjust. The landscape was different, less Karoo. He saw grass veld, hills, a town in the distance.
?That?s Philipstown.? Koos Kok followed his gaze.
The road stretched out before them, directly north.
They wrestled the GS off the El Camino, using two planks as a ramp that bent deeply under the weight, but it was easier than the loading. They worked hurriedly, worried about the possibility of passing traffic.
?You must wait until sunset,? said Koos Kok.
?There?s no time.?
The GS stood ready on its stand; Thobela pulled on the rider?s suit, opened the sports bag, and counted out some notes, offering them to Koos Kok.
?I don'?t want your money. You paid for the petrol already.?
?I owe you.?
?You owe me nothing. You gave me the music.?
?What music??
?I am going to write a song about you.?
?Is that why you helped me??
?Sort of.?
?Sort of??
?You have two choices in life, Xhosa. You can be a victim. Or not.? His smile was barely discernible.
?Oh.?
?You will understand one day.?
He hesitated a moment and then pushed the cash into Kok?s top pocket. ?Take this for wear and tear,? he said, handing over a couple of hundred rand.
?Ride like the wind, Xhosa.?
?Go well, Griqua.?
They stood facing each other uncomfortably. Then he put out his hand to Koos Kok. ?Thank you.?
The Griqua shook his hand, smiled with a big gap-toothed smile.
He put the bag in the side case, pushed his hands into the gloves, and mounted. Pushed the starter. The GS hesitated a second before it caught and then he raised his hand and rode, accelerating gradually through the gears, giving the engine time to warm up. It felt good, it felt right, because he was in control again; on the road, fourth, fifth, sixth, 140 kilometers per hour, he shifted into position, found the right angle with most of his torso behind the windshield, bent slightly forward, and then let the needle creep up and looked in the rearview mirror to see that Koos Kok and the El Camino had become very small behind him in the road.
The digital clock read 15:06 and he made some calculations, visualizing the road map in his mind, two hundred kilometers of blacktop to Petrusburg? that was the dangerous part, in daylight on the R48? but it was a quiet road. Petrusburg by half past four, five o?clock. Refuel and if he was reported, then there was the network of dirt roads to the north, too many for them to patrol, and he would have choices, to go through Dealesville or Boshof, and his choices would multiply and by then it would be dark and if all went well, he could cross the border at Mafikeng before midnight. Then he would be away, safe, and he would phone Miriam from Lobatse, tell her he was safe, regardless of what they said over the radio.
