Thirteen Hours

the decisions.

'Commissioner, it's important that we utilise the available manpower as efficiently as possible.' He listened to his own words. Why was he always so pompous when he spoke to important people?

Afrika nodded solemnly.

'Our main problem is that we don't know where the Barnard murder took place. We need forensics from the scene. There were exit wounds, there would have to be blood, bullets ... and then we need to place Greyling at the scene ...'

'Geyser,' said Fransman Dekker, still sullen.

He ought to have remembered that, Griessel thought. What was the matter with him today? 'Geyser', he burned it into his memory. 'I'll have them brought in to the station, the man and his wife. We need to talk to them separately. Meanwhile Fransman can go to AfriSound ...' He glanced at Dekker, uncertain whether he had the company name right. Dekker did not react. '... the record company. We need to know about Barnard's day. Where was he last night, and with whom? How late? Why? We have to build this case from the ground up.'

'Amen,' said Afrika. 'I want a rock-solid case.'

'We need a formal statement from Willie Mouton. Fransman?'

'I'll handle it.'

'Did anyone else see or hear Geyser yesterday? Who saw Geyser's wife when she went to Barnard's office?'

'The Big Bang,' said Cloete in disgust, his conversation over. Then his phone rang again. He sighed and turned away.

'As far as Vusi's case is concerned - he needs help, sir, someone to coordinate the stations, someone with authority, someone who can bring more people in from the southern suburbs, Milnerton or Table View ...'

'Table View?' said Dekker. 'That lot couldn't find their own arses with a hand mirror.'

'The chopper can help us in an hour's time. Benny, you'll have to coordinate. Who else is there?' said John Afrika, feeling uncomfortable.

Griessel's voice became quiet and serious. 'Commissioner, this is someone's child out there. They have been hunting her from the early hours of the morning ...'

Afrika avoided the intensity of Griessel's gaze. He knew where this was coming from, he knew the story of Benny's daughter and her abduction, six months ago.

'True,' he said.

'We need feet on the ground. Vehicles, patrols. Vusi, the photo the American boy took - the one of the missing girl - we need prints. Every policeman in the Peninsula ... the Metro people ...' and Griessel wondered what had come of the Field Marshal and his street search.

'The Metro people?' said Dekker. 'Fucking glorified traffic cops...'

John Afrika gave Dekker a stern look. Dekker gazed out at the street.

'It makes no difference,' said Griessel. 'We need all the eyes we can get. I thought we should bring Mat Joubert in to coordinate, sir. He's fairly free at the PT ...'

'No,' said Afrika firmly. He raised his eyebrows. 'You don't know about Joubert yet?' 'What about him?' Griessel's phone rang. He looked at the screen. The number was unfamiliar. 'Excuse me,' he said as he answered, 'Benny Griessel.'

'This is Willie Mouton.' The voice was self-important.

'Mr Mouton,' Griessel said deliberately, so the others would know.

John Afrika nodded. 'I gave him your number,' he said quietly.

Mouton said: 'I phoned Josh Geyser and told him to come to the office, I have something important to say to him. He will be here in ten minutes, if you want to arrest him.'

'Mr Mouton, we would have preferred to bring him in ourselves.' Griessel did his best to disguise his frustration.

'First you complain that I won't cooperate,' said Mouton, touchy now.

Griessel sighed. 'Where is your office?'

'Sixteen Buiten Street. Go through the ground-floor building - our entrance is through the garden at the back. There's a big sign on the wall. Ask for me at reception on the ground floor.'

'We'll be there now.' He ended the call. 'Mouton asked Geyser to come to his office. He'll be there in ten minutes.'

'Jissis,' said Dekker, 'what an idiot.'

'Fransman, I will talk to Geyser, but you have to find the wife ...'

'Melinda?' Cloete still had trouble believing it. 'Pretty Melinda?'

'I'll get their home address from Mouton, then I'll call you. Commissioner, none of this helps Vusi. Is there no one who can help him?'

'Well, it sounds as though the Barnard affair is sorted out. If the case against Geyser is strong enough, lock him up and go and help Vusi. We can tie up the loose ends tomorrow.'

Afrika saw the look on Benny's face and he knew it wasn't the solution he had hoped for.

'OK. We can bring in Mbali Kaleni temporarily until you are free.'

'Mbali Kaleni?' Dekker was taken aback.

'Shit,' said Vusi Ndabeni. Immediately he added: 'I'm sorry ...'

'Nee, o fok,' said Dekker.

'She's clever. And thorough,' said the Commissioner, on the back foot for the first time.

'She's a Zulu,' said Vusi.

'She's a pain in the gat,' said Dekker. 'And she's at Bellville, her SC won't release her.'

'He will,' said John Afrika, in control again. 'She's all I have available, and she's on Benny's mentor list. She can coordinate from Caledon Square - I'll ask them to arrange something for her.'

He saw no relief on Vusi and Fransman Dekker's faces.

'Besides,' said Afrika with finality, 'it's only temporary, until Benny can take over.' As an afterthought he added reproachfully: 'And you should be supporting our efforts to develop more women in the Service.'

Easy and athletic, the young black man jogged through the trees of De Waal Park, from the Molteno Reservoir end to the waiting Land Rover Defender in Upper Orange Street.

'Nothing,' he said as he got in.

'Fuck,' said the young white driver. He pulled away before the door was even properly shut. 'We have to get out of here. He would have called the cops. And he saw the Landy.'

'Well, then we'll have to get our own cops here too.'

The white man took his cell phone out of his breast pocket and passed it to the black man. 'Call them. Make sure they know exactly where she disappeared. And get Barry down here as well. He's no use up the fucking mountain any more. Tell him to go to the restaurant.'

Griessel and Dekker walked to Loop Street together. 'What have you got against Inspector Kaleni?' Griessel asked.

'She's the fat one,' said Dekker, as if that explained everything. Griessel remembered her from last Thursday: short, very fat, with an unattractive face, severe as the sphinx, in a black trouser suit that sat too tight.

'And ...?'

'We were at Bellville together and she irritates the living shit out of everyone. Fucking bra-burning feminist, she thinks she knows everything, sucks up to the SC like you won't believe ...' Dekker stopped. 'I'm this way.' He pointed down the street.

'Come to AfriSound when you're finished.'

Dekker wasn't finished yet: 'She has this moerse irritating habit of appearing out of nowhere, like a fucking bad omen. She sneaks up, quiet as a wet dream, on those little feet and all of a sudden there she is, always smelling of KFC, though you never see her eating the fucking stuff.'

'Does your wife know?'

'Know what?'

'That you have the horny hots for Kaleni?'

Dekker growled something indiscernible and irascible. Then he threw back his head and laughed, a deep bark