'Songweza is missing.'
'Run away? Kidnapped?'
'Either is possible. She hasn't been home for four days, according to her house mother.'
'Is that unusual?'
'You see the thing about iJusi, although you wouldn't know this, is that they're a little ray of sunshine in an ugly, ugly world.' He pinches the corner of his lower lip and rolls it between his thick fingers. 'They're good kids. Role models.'
'And you want to keep it that way. No nasty real-world taint for Papa Odi's little girl.'
'Amira said you had an ugly mouth.' The stumps lash and twist.
'I prefer to think of it as a fast mouth. So, there's no boyfriend? Girlfriend, maybe?' I push.
'Plenty of time for that later.'
'Because she's a good girl.'
'You see. We understand each other.'
'I don't understand why you're talking to me, rather than the cops or a private investigator. Four days is a long time. She could be dead.'
'Now, Zinzi, that's not very discreet. Police. PIs. If the tabloids get a sniff…'
'I get it. You're making a mistake, but I'll take your money. How much are we talking?'
'If you bring her back before the official launch and
'Make it two hundred, I'm your girl.'
'Eighty-five.'
'One fifty. Plus expenses. Don't worry, Mr Huron, I'll submit receipts.'
The Marabou looks pained. Huron gives me a slow, evaluating look. The tentacles pause, like they're holding their breath.
'Odi, please.' And we share a conspiratorial grin. Or maybe we're just baring our teeth at each other, like chimps competing for dominance.
'Odi? There's a phone call for you,' Carmen pops her head out the door, plaintive, like she thinks we've taken up too much of his time already. She is cradling a black Rabbit, stroking its ears. It does explain the fossilised chocolate raisins in the dining room. Who knew that Odi Huron's eccentricities included cultivating a personal menagerie of zoos? I can't help wondering what she did
to get her Bunny.
'Ah, thank you, Carmencita,' Odi says. 'I think we're done here. Amira and Mark will brief you and make all the necessary arrangements. Whatever you need.'
He stands up, all business, downs his drink and throws out the ice towards the pool. The blocks go skittering over the cracked tiles and plop into the water, sending greasy ripples across the surface to stir the leaves. By the time I look up, Odi is disappearing into the house. And I didn't even get the studio tour.
Sloth is pissed with me. I can tell by the way he clambers onto my back, stiff and cross. 'You have a better idea?' I hiss at him.
'What was that?' the Marabou asks mildly, staring at the pool, at the lichen-blinded maidens and the ripples breaking at their bare feet.
'I was wondering if this is the best idea,' I say. 'There must be more qualified people.'
'More qualified, but maybe less discreet. And harder to vanish if everything goes wrong.'
'You know, I'm pretty sure no one mentioned any vanishing.'
'You do this thing, you disappear. No questions asked. Back to Zoo City and your own small world.'
'I see.' But I'm thinking about her lost gun.
'Shall we? You should probably be getting started.'
The Maltese is waiting in the car upfront. It's been polished and waxed to within an inch of its warranty. The interior is awash with pine air-freshener and just a hint of ammonia. The combination makes Sloth sneeze. Which means I was wrong about the guy. I was convinced 'spit and polish' was a euphemism for sex. But I have no doubt that dear Odi is nailing sweet little Carmen sideways and backwards. Maybe even now.
The Maltese – Mark – seems eager to get going. The car is idling, he's already strapped in and the Dog is standing on his lap, its paws on the steering wheel. It yaps once, impatiently, like this is a Formula 1 pit-stop and we're holding up the race.
'How was that, sweetie? Was he everything we said?' Mark says, putting the car into gear as I close my door.
'And more!' I say, in chipper imitation of Carmencita. 'I'm on the case
'Don't take it personally, sweetie.'
As the car pulls away down the drive, Huron appears in the doorway. I turn to look back over the headrest, past Amira and her creepy bird. He's rocking back on his heels, his hands embedded in the pockets of his jeans, just the picture of laidback cool. It's a junkie look. That desperately pretending that everything is hunky-dory, you're not stressed at all about anything in the world, when inside your jeans pockets, your hands are clamped into sweaty fists, fingernails leaving grooves in your palms. If Huron's grooves were an LP, they would be playing the Johnny Cash cover of Nine Inch Nails' 'Hurt'. And the tentacles would be waving along in time.
10.
CALEB CARTER
HM Barwon Prison
Australia
'I didn't have the Tapir when I got here. She came on the second night, after I was jumped by a couple of the 4161s from Melbourne. Lucky my mate Len was already inside, and knew their game. He gave me a shank when I arrived, and it ended up in the neck of this one guy, a tattooed fuckwit called Deke.
'That night, at about the same time Deke was dying in a hospital in Geelong, the Tapir appeared outside my cell. I heard her scratching at the door of solitary confinement. Scared the hell out of me. The guards said she was still covered in jungle mud when they found her.
'I mean, there's cameras everywhere. And this thing's from a different continent. How come no one saw her arrive? How did she get here? If she can walk through walls or fly or something, why can't she carry me out of here?
'Anyway, I love her. They let me look after her good, take her on walks around the yard. She's a stupid- looking creature and she's dopey as shit, but when the guys here see her at my side, they remember what happened to Deke. They remember not to fuck with Carter.'
ZIA KHADIM
Karachi Central Jail
Pakistan
'They keep our animals in cages in another part of the prison. We don't see them. When they want to torture us, they put them in the back of a car and drive away to Keti Bandar. The pain is unbearable, you scream, you vomit and you say anything.
'My Cobra was with me when I was arrested. I was nine. The police saw me walking on the street with my Cobra round my neck, and they grabbed me. They said I robbed a house. I didn't do it, but they beat me until I said I did.
'When they brought me here, they threw my Cobra into one room with all the other animals. The animals would bite each other and get infected and die. The Undertow would come every night for the prisoners. Too many people died. Now they keep the animals in cages, but they still don't let us see them, not unless we give a big bribe, a month's salary for a guard. I don't have that money.
'I haven't seen my Cobra since I was arrested. I'm now fourteen years old.'
