PART FOUR
Carla
47.
Beyond Calvinia he saw the clouds damming up against the mountains, the snow-white cumulus towers in late morning sun, the straight line they formed over the dry earth. He wanted to show Carla. He wanted to explain his theory of how the contours of the landscape created this weather.
She was asleep in the passenger seat.
He looked at her. He wondered if it was a dreamless sleep.
A huge plain opened up ahead of them. The road was as straight as an arrow, to Brandvlei?a pitch-black ribbon stretching to the point of invisibility.
He wondered when she would wake up, because she was missing everything.
The minister looked at the newspaper clipping. There was a photo of two people getting out of a helicopter. A man and a young woman. The man?s hair was dark and untidy, with a hint of gray at the temples. A somewhat Slavic face, with a severe expression. His head was turned towards the young woman in concern.
There was a resemblance between them, a vague connection between brow and the line of the chin. Father and daughter, perhaps.
She was pretty, with an evenness of feature below her black hair. But there was something about the way she held her head, how she looked down. As if she were old and unattractive. Maybe the minister got the impression because the jacket over her shoulders was too big for her. Maybe he was influenced by the headline of the report.
ABDUCTION DRAMA ENDS IN BLOODBATH
John Afrika, Matt Joubert and Benny Griessel were sitting in the spacious office at Serious and Violent Crimes. Keyter came in and greeted them. They did not reciprocate.
?I am only going to ask you once, Jamie,? said Griessel, and his voice was quiet but it carried across the room. ?Was it you??
Keyter looked back at them, nervously from one to the next.
?Uh . . . um . . . What are you talking about, Benny??
?Did you give Sangrenegra the information??
?Jesus, Benny . . .?
?Did you??
?No. Never.?
?Where do you get the money, Jamie? For the clothes. And that expensive cell phone of yours? Where does the money come from?? Griessel had risen halfway from his chair.
?Benny,? said John Afrika, his voice soothing.
?I . . .? said Jamie Keyter.
?Jamie,? said Joubert. ?It?s better if you talk.?
?It?s not what you think,? he said and his voice shook.
?What is it?? asked Griessel, forcing himself to sit.
?I moonlight, Benny.?
?You moonlight??
?Modeling.?
?Modeling?? said John Afrika.
?For TV ads.?
No one said a word.
?For the French. And the Germans. But I swear, I?m finished with that.?
?Can you prove it, Jamie??
?Yes, Sup. I have the videos. Ads for coffee and cheese spread. And clothes. I did one for the Swedes for milk, I had to take my shirt off, but that?s all, Sup, I swear . . .?
?TV ads,? said John Afrika.
?Jissis,? said Griessel.
?Was this about my clothes, Benny? Did you suspect me just because of my
?
?There was a fax, Jamie. It was sent from here. From SVC?s fax machine. With Mpayipheli?s photo.?
?It could have been anyone.?
?You were the dresser, Jamie.?
?But it wasn?t me.?
