?Shoot,? said Thobela.
?Let Cesar go.?
?No.?
?Then I shoot this one.?
?Do I care? He is a policeman. I am a murderer.? He turned the knife in Cesar?s throat.
The cry was hoarse and high and desperate and he knew the blade had scraped against something.
Shaven Head looked at Cesar, back at Griessel and spat out a word. He threw the carbine in the dust.
said Thobela in Afrikaans. ?Now you must get your daughter.?
At a stop sign in Eleventh Avenue she knocked on the window of a woman?s Audi and said: ?Please, ma?am, I need your help.?
The woman looked her up and down, saw the mud on her legs and drove off.
?Fuck you!? Christine yelled after her.
She walked in the direction of Frans Conradie Avenue, looking back often. By now they must know she was gone. They must be looking for her.
At the traffic lights she looked left and right. There were shops across the street. If she could just get there. Unseen. She ran. A car braked and hooted at her. She kept on running. Oncoming traffic. She stood on the traffic island waiting. Then it was clear. Jogged across. The sandals were not made for this sort of thing.
Turned left, up the hill. Not far now. She was going to make it. She must phone Vanessa. No taxis. They would follow those up; know where she was dropped off. Vanessa would have to fetch her. Vanessa and Sonia. Take them to a station. Catch a train, anywhere. Get away. She could buy a car, in Beaufort West or George or wherever. She must just get away. Disappear.
Griessel crossed in front of him where he held Cesar in an embrace. The policeman walked slowly, with empty hands. Thobela wondered where the pistol was. Wondered what the expression in the white man?s eyes meant.
Griessel walked to the minibus.
He opened it. Thobela saw movement inside. He heard Griessel speak. Lean inwards. Saw two arms encircle Griessel?s neck.
He looked at the henchmen. They stood still. Uneasy. Ready, their eyes on Cesar.
He made sure of his grip on the Colombian. He didn?t know whose blood was running over him. Looked back at the minibus. Griessel stood half in the minibus, his daughter?s arms around him. He thought he heard the detective?s voice.
?Griessel,? he said, because he didn?t know how long he could hold out.
A henchman shuffled his feet.
?You must be quiet. I will cut this man?s throat.?
The man looked at him with an unreadable expression.
?Shoot them,? said Cesar, but the words came out with blood, unclear.
?Shut up, or I will kill you.?
?Shoot them.? More audible.
The henchmen inched closer. Shaven Head stepped towards his firearm.
?I will kill Cesar
? The pain in his upper arm reached new heights. There was a buzzing in his head. Where was the policeman? He looked quickly. Griessel stood there, with the Z88, and his daughter, hand in hand.
They all looked at Griessel. He shuffled up to the first henchman.
?Did he?? he asked his daughter.
She nodded. Griessel raised the pistol and fired. The man flew over backwards.
Father and daughter approached the next one. ?And he??
She nodded. He aimed at the man?s head and pulled the trigger. The second shot thundered through the night and the man fell. Shaven Head dived for his weapon. Thobela knew it would all happen now and he pulled the knife across Cesar?s throat and let him fall. He knew where the nearest machine pistol lay, threw his body that way, heard another shot. He kept his eyes on the firearm. Hit the gravel, stretched out, heard another shot. Got his finger on the steel. Dizzy, a lot of blood lost. His left arm wouldn?t work. Rolled over. Couldn?t see well in the lights of the Nissan. Tried to get up, but had no balance.
Got onto one knee.
Shaven Head was down. Cesar lay. Three others as well. Griessel had the Z88 trained on the last one. Carla was close to Thobela now. He saw her face. He knew in that moment he would never forget it.
Her father turned to the last one.
?And this one??
His daughter looked at the man and nodded her head.
