?Jissis, Vaughn, what do you think? That I was pissed? Do you want to smell my fucking breath? So you can run to the papers and tell the fucking journalists what a fuck-up I am? Here, use my cell phone. Call them. Go on, take it. Do you think I care? Do you think it still bothers me??
?Jeez, Benny, take it easy. I?m on
side.?
Griessel folded his arms. The radio on Cupido?s hip beeped. ?Vaughn, its Fielies, come in.?
?I?m standing by.?
?Do we have someone in number forty-eight??
?Not that I?m aware of.?
?There?s a man with a huge pair of binoculars on the second floor. I don?t think he knows I can see him.?
?Is he watching Carlos??
?Yep.?
?Tell him I?ll check it out,? said Griessel.
?Wait,? said Cupido. ?Here comes King Carlos.?
Griessel looked at Sangrenegra?s house. The door of the double garage was slowly opening. ?Fuck,? he said, ?give me the radio.? He took it from Cupido. ?Fielies, this is Benny. Does the guy have
binoculars??
?That is all that I can see.?
?Carlos is on his way. Look carefully at the window . . .?
?Only the binoculars. There, they?ve gone now . . .?
Please not a sniper, thought Griessel. ?Is everyone on this frequency?? he asked Cupido, who nodded.
?Everyone, stand by.?
?The binoculars are back,? said Fielies.
?Follow Carlos, Fielies.? To Cupido: ?Who is his back-up??
?He?s on his own. You know we don?t have enough manpower for back-up.?
?Fielies . . .?
?Standing by.?
?Don?t lose him.?
When Carlos?s BMW disappeared down the road, Griessel left the house and crossed the street. It was hot outside and windless in the lee of the mountain. The heat reflected up from the ground and perspiration sprang out on his skin. He worried that the smells of last night would come out again. Number 48 was another rich man?s house, white-painted concrete filling the entire plot. Nowhere for children to play. A playground for adults only. He looked up at the windows of the second floor. There was a room overlooking the street and Sangrenegra?s house and the curtains were parted. There was no one there now.
He approached the front door and rang the bell. He couldn?t hear it ring. He never could understand why people didn?t make their doorbells audible. How were you supposed to know if it was working or not? You stand there pressing like crazy, and most of the time it?s out of order and you wait like a fool at the door, but no one knows you?re there.
Irritably he pressed again. Once, twice, three times.
Nothing happened. Not a sound.
Fielies had clearly seen something. The binoculars. Appearing and disappearing.
He hammered on the door with the base of his fist. Boom, boom, boom, boom, the sound echoed inside. Open up, fuckers.
No reaction, no sound of footsteps.
He took out his phone and looked up Boef Beukes?s number that he had called last night. Pressed the green key. It rang unanswered. Boef knew who was calling. And he probably knew why, because the chump with the binoculars up there had probably phoned his boss and said the SVC people were at the door.
He banged one last time on the door, more out of frustration than expectation.
Then he turned and left.
39.
He had fetched himself a chair from the luxurious sitting room, carried it up the stairs and positioned it next to Cupido?s. They watched Sangrenegra return and listened while Fielies reported. The Colombian had been to the police and directly home again.
They sat and waited and had meaningless chats. They tried to keep the attention of the team, the detectives down the street, and the others hidden in the veld behind the house.
It was 15:34 now and the sleepiness felt like lead inside him. He must have been asleep with his eyes open, because when Cupido said with an edge, ?Benny . . . ,? he jumped in fright. Looking down at the street he saw a panel van parked at Carlos?s door. There was a big blue cross on the side.
