windless here where the mountain blocked the southeaster. ?But what you really want to know is why he is using an assegai. And why he is killing people.?
He wondered why he was so conscious of her mouth. He shifted his eyes to a point on her forehead, so that he could concentrate.
?I think the assegai is one of two things. Either he is trying to convince you he is not white, to put you off the trail. Or he is looking for media sensation. Is there any indication that he has made contact with the media yet??
Griessel shook his head.
?Then I would go with the first option. But I?m guessing.?
?Why doesn?t he just shoot them? That?s what I?m wondering.?
?I think it must be connected to the why,? she said, and drew again on the cigarette. There was a masculine manner to her smoking, probably because she always smoked with men. ?It definitely isn?t because he was molested or abused himself. In that case the victims and the MO would have been very different. That?s another reason it has to be a man. When men are damaged, if they are abused or molested, they want to do the same to others. Women are different. If there is damage from a young age, they don?t do it to others. They do it to themselves. Therefore not a woman. If it had been a man who was damaged, his target would have been children. But this one is going for the ones who are doing the damage. And he is psychologically strong. What makes more sense to me is that a child of his has been a victim. Or at least a close member of his family. A younger sister or brother perhaps. A personal vendetta. A pure vigilante. They are rare. In our country it is usually a group with a very specific dynamic.?
?And the assegai??
?I have to admit the assegai bothers me. Let?s think about stabbing versus shooting. Stabbing is much more personal. Intimate and direct. That fits a personal loss. It makes him feel that he himself is exacting retribution. There?s no distance between him and the victim, he isn?t acting on behalf of a group, he represents only himself. But he could have done that with a knife. Because he is smart, he knows a knife can be messy. Also less effective. He wants to get it over quickly. There is no pathology of hanging about at the scene. He leaves no messages. But maybe he wants to intimidate them with the assegai; maybe it?s a tool to gain immediate control, so that he can do his work and be done with it. Now I?m speculating freely, because I can?t be sure.? She stubbed out the cigarette in the small glass ashtray.
He told her he also thought the suspect was white. And he still thought so, but there was evidence to the contrary. He told her about Uniondale and the fact that the child abuse report only appeared in
She pressed the tip of a finger on the biscuit crumbs in her plate and licked them off. She did it again. He wondered if she knew it made him think of sex, and then he was faintly surprised that he was thinking of sex at all and eventually he said: ?If he is black, you have much bigger problems.?
A third time the finger went to the plate and then to her mouth and he looked at her mouth again. An eyetooth, just the one, was canted to the inside.
?I would also put more check marks against intelligence and motivation. And that puts another light on the assegai. Now we start to talk of symbolism, of traditional values and traditional justice. He?s sophisticated, at home in a city environment. He?s not a country boy?it takes too much skill to execute three white victims in white neighborhoods without being seen. He reads Afrikaans newspapers. He is aware of the police investigation. That?s possibly why he went to Uniondale. To divide attention. You should not underestimate him.?
?If he?s black.?
She nodded. ?Improbable but not impossible.? She looked at her watch. ?I will have to finish up,? she said and opened her handbag.
Quickly he told her about Sangrenegra and asked if she thought the ambush would work.
She held her purse in her hand. ?It would have been better if you could have set your trap outside Cape Town. He feels the pressure here.?
?I?m paying,? he said. ?But will he come??
She took out a ten-rand note. ?I?ll pay half,? she said and put the money under the saucer with the bill. ?He will come. If you play your cards right with the media, he will come.?
He drove along the coast, because he wanted to go to Camps Bay again. He saw the new developments on the sea front in Green Point. Big blocks of flats under construction, with advertising boards romantically depicting the finished product.
He wondered if it would revive this part of the city. What would they do with the
hobos that lived on the commonage behind? And the old, dilapidated buildings in between, with paint peeling off in long strips and the rooms rented out by the hour?
That made him think of Christine van Rooyen and that he should tell her what they were planning, but he would have to pick his words carefully.
Along Coast Road through Sea Point. It looked a lot better here by the sea. But he knew it was a false front?further inland was erosion and decay, dark corners and dirty alleys. He stopped at a traffic light and saw the scaffolding on a sea-front building. He wondered who would win this battle. It was Europe against Africa?rich Britons and Germans against Nigerian and Somalian drug networks, the South Africans marginalized as spectators. It depended on how much money poured in. If it was enough, the money would win and crime would find another place, southern suburbs, he thought. Or the Cape Flats.
The money ought to win, because the view was stunningly beautiful. That?s what money did. Reserved the most beautiful for the rich. And shunted policemen off to Brackenfell.
At the traffic circle he turned left in Queens, then right in Victoria, all along the sea, through Bantry Bay. A Maserati, a Porsche and a BMW X5 stood side by side in front of a block of flats. He had never felt at home here. It was another country.
Clifton. A woman and two young children walked over the road. She was carrying a big beach bag and a folded umbrella. She was wearing a bikini and a piece of material around her hips, but it blew open. She was tall and pretty, long brown hair down the length of her back. She looked down the road, past him. He was invisible to her in his middle-class police car.
