He went up Upper Orange Street, turned into the park and sat on the high wall of the reservoir to look out. To the left Lion?s Head became the curves of Signal Hill, and below a thousand city windows were a mosaic of the sun. The sea was deep blue beyond Robben Island, far off to Melkbos Strand. Left of Devil?s Peak lay the suburbs. A 747 came in over the Tyger Berg and its shadow flashed over him in an instant.
Fuck, he thought, when had he last seen this?
How could he have missed it?
On the other hand, he pulled a face; if you are sleeping off your hangover in the morning, you won?t see sunrise over the Cape. He must remember this, the unexpected advantage of teetotalism.
A wagtail came and perched near him, tail going up and down, dapper steps like a self-important station sergeant. ?What?? he said to the bird. ?Your wife left you too?? He received no reply. He sat until the bird flew up after some invisible insect, and then he rose and looked up at the mountain again and it gave him a strange pleasure. Only he was seeing it this morning, nobody else.
He walked back to the flat, showered and changed and drove to the hospital. Cliffy was resting, they told him. He was stable, in no danger. He asked them to tell him Benny had been there.
It was just before seven. He drove north with the N1, on a freeway still quiet?the Cape only got going by about ten o?clock on a Saturday. Down Brackenfell Boulevard and the familiar turnoffs to his house. He drove past the house only once, slowly. No sign of life. The lawn was cut, the postbox emptied, the garage door closed. A policeman?s inventory. He accelerated away because he did not want his thoughts to penetrate the front door.
He drank only coffee at a Wimpy in Panorama, because he had never been one for breakfast, and waited until the shops opened.
He found a two-seater couch and two armchairs at Mohammed ?Love Lips? Faizal?s pawnshop in Maitland. The floral cover was slightly bleached. There were faint coffee stains on the arm of one chair. ?This is too much, L.L.,? he said over the R600 price tag.
?For you, Sarge, five-fifty.?
Faizal had been in Pollsmoor for eighteen months for trafficking in stolen goods and he was reasonably certain three-quarters of the car radios had been brought in by the drug addicts of Observatory.
?Four hundred, L.L. Look at these stains.?
?One steam clean and it?s good as new, Sarge. Five hundred and I don?t make a cent.?
Faizal knew he was no longer a sergeant, but some things will never change. ?Four-fifty.?
?Jissis, Sarge, I have a wife and kids.?
By chance he saw the bass guitar, just the head protruding from behind a steel cabinet of brand new tools.
?And that bass??
?You into music, Sarge??
?I have tickled the neck of a bass in my day.?
?Well bless my soul. It?s a Fender, Sarge, pawned by a wannabe rapper from Blackheath, but his ticket expires only next Friday. Comes with a new Dr. Bass times two-ten-b cabinet with a three-u built-in rack, two-two-fifty watt Eminence tens, and a LeSon tweeter.?
?I don?t know what the fuck you?re talking about.?
?It?s a bloody big amp, Sarge. It?ll blow you away.?
?How much??
?Are you serious, Sarge??
?Maybe.?
?It?s a genuine pawn, Sarge. Clean.?
?I believe you, L.L. Relax.?
?Do you want to start a band now?? The suspicion was still there.
Griessel grinned. ?And call it Violent Crimes??
?So what then??
?How much are you asking for the guitar and amp, L.L.??
?Two thousand, for sure. If the wannabe doesn?t return the ticket.?
?Oh.? It was too much for him. He had no idea what these things cost. ?Four-fifty for the sitting-room suite??
Faizal sighed. ?Four seventy-five and I?ll throw in free delivery and a six-piece coaster set with tasteful nudes depicted thereupon.?
He got the three bar stools at the place in Parow that sold only pine furniture and he paid R175 apiece, a scary amount, but he loaded them in the car, two on the back seat and one in front, and took them to his flat, because tomorrow his kids would be here and at least there was something for them to sit on. By eleven he was sitting with a newspaper at the laundromat, waiting for his clothes to be clean and dry so he could pack them in his new plastic laundry basket and iron them on his new ironing board with his new iron.
Then Matt Joubert phoned and he said: ?I know you are off, Benny, but I need you.?
?What?s up, Boss??
?It?s the guy with the assegai, but I?ll explain when you arrive. We are at Fisantekraal. On a smallholding. Come
