Broken (22 page)

Cindy nodded
and went on preparing the food. I got up and went to the lounge. I
brought the fake glasses back and dropped them into the kitchen
rubbish bin. I had to be more careful, I warned myself. Mistakes
like that could get me into trouble. I had to think more carefully
before I did anything. And I had to put more thought into covering
my tracks.

After we’d
eaten our meal I took two more beers out of the fridge and we went
through to the lounge to watch the seven o’clock news on the
television. There was nothing of interest to me until the last news
item before the weather forecast.

“Early this morning a prominent
horse racing bookmaker in Rosettenville was killed when he was
mugged by what the police believe was a lone assailant. Mister
Edward Eksteen was walking to the nearby bank with the weekend’s
takings when he was attacked.” the announcer said. “There were no
witnesses to the robbery but the police are following up on several
important leads. They are also looking for any information that
might help them in their investigation. If you were in the vicinity
of Petunia and Albert Streets in Rosettenville between eight and
nine o’clock this morning and noticed anything suspicious, please
contact Captain Williams at the Brixton Police Station or ‘phone
him on…”

At first I
felt quite shocked that I
’d killed Mister
Eksteen, but I quickly recovered. The old man meant nothing to me.
He’d been friendly and helpful but that was normal for people
looking to take your money. And maybe I wasn’t directly responsible
for his death. Maybe he’d fallen and hit his head on the ground
after I struck him. I felt sure that I hadn’t hit him hard enough
to kill him. Or maybe he’d had a heart attack from the shock of
being robbed. That surely wouldn’t be my fault. But, until I knew
otherwise, I wasn’t prepared to take responsibility for the old
man’s death. I had hit him with the truncheon, but I hadn’t hit him
that hard.

“
Did you know
that man?” Cindy asked.

“
Vaguely.” I
said. “I placed a few bets with him but apart from that I didn’t
know him at all.”

What worried
me though, was that the announcer had said that the police were
following up on some vital leads. Were they bluffing to try and
frighten me into surrendering myself or were they hoping that I
would panic and do something rash? I wondered if there was any way
that I could find out more.

I got up from
the couch and went into the bathroom, closing and locking the door.
I sat on the edge of the bath and thought back to the attack on
Mister Eksteen, trying to think of where or how I could have left
any clues as to my identity. Perhaps someone who knew me had
noticed me waiting outside the betting hall on the morning that the
old man died. But then I remembered that I’d been wearing my ski
mask rolled up to just above my eyes. That would have made it
difficult for anyone to recognise me. Apart from that, I couldn’t
think of anything that I had done that would have given the police
a lead as to who had attacked and robbed old Mister Eksteen.
Satisfied that the police were bluffing, I stood up, flushed the
toilet and returned to the lounge.

At first I
resolved to stay away from the betting hall and go to the
Turffontein race track instead but then I realised that by doing
that I might create suspicion. I had been going there regularly for
almost six months,
so I was obviously
quite well known and if I now stopped going there straight after
Mister Eksteen’s death, people might begin wondering
why.

Although I
had placed all my bets in the past with Mister Eksteen there were
five other bookmakers in the hall and it would be natural for me to
now place my bets with them. And, even though I had no money to bet
with I felt that I had to still go there every week, even if it was
just to avoid creating suspicion.

One of the
country’s premium horse races, the J & B Metropolitan, was
scheduled to take place early in the new year and I felt certain
that this was my opportunity to hit the big time. Although the race
was still almost two months away, I began to study the form of the
horses that had been entered, as well as the records of the jockeys
and trainers. I reasoned that the more I knew about them, the
better my chances would be of selecting the winner. I wasn’t
interested in horses that ran the places. I was only interested in
the winner.

At the same
time that I began studying the form of the horses I also began
working on the problem of where I was going to get the money to
place on my big bet. I knew that I couldn’t approach the bank for a
loan even though I had the house that I could use as surety. I also
couldn’t sell any of the items in the house. Eventually I came to
the conclusion that my only hope of getting the stake money that I
needed was to borrow it from a private money lender. There were
several companies that gave unsecured loans but most of them
required that you have a job and that you sign over the rights to
your salary in case you defaulted. I didn’t have a job but I did
have a house and its contents that I could use as security.
Naturally these money lenders charged interest on their loans that
were far higher than the banks did and also used extremely violent
means to recover their money from delinquent and tardy clients.
But, I realised, this was the only source of funds available to
me.

I went to the snooker saloon and
spoke to the owner, Manny Soldatos.

“
I need to
borrow some money.” I said. “I’m too young to get a loan from the
bank. Do you know of a money lender that I can go to?”

"
There are several in the area.”
Manny said. “But are you sure that you want to use one? These guys
charge ridiculously high interest and if you don’t pay the
instalments on time they send their thugs to get the money and hurt
you at the same time. If you do borrow money from them, are you
sure that you can pay it back with the interest? If you have any
doubts about being able to pay back the money on time, don’t borrow
it. You’re young and these guys can easily cripple you for
life.”

“
I’ll be able
to pay the money back.” I said.

“
Okay.” Manny
said. “But don’t say that I didn’t warn you. The man you should go
to is Rocky Bogdanovic. He’s a Yugoslavian and his office is in
Main Street. It’s right next to the nursing home. A small shop with
“LOANS” on the window. You can’t miss it.”

“
Thanks.” I
said and turned to leave.

“
By the way.”
Manny said. “That guy Bruce that you beat up is still in a coma in
hospital. Did you know that?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“That’s what happens to people
who attack me.” I said.

***

Rocky
Bogdanovic reminded me of a fish. He was completely bald. In fact,
he didn
’t even have eyebrows. His pale
yellowish skin was stretched tightly across his face, giving it a
strange sheen, as if it was wet. Two deep wrinkles ran from the
corners of his mouth straight down on either side of his chin and
disappeared under his jaw line. His expressionless pale blue eyes
bulged out of his face and his tiny nose was flat and red. His
thick blubbery lips were pink and moist and his tiny ears stuck out
from the sides of his head like little handles.

Anticipating that he would
question me closely about the reason that I wanted the loan and how
sure I was that I could repay it, I had come prepared.

“
Why did you
come to me?” he asked. “Why didn’t you go to the banks?”

“
I’m an
orphan and I’m still a minor.” I said.

“
How old are
you?”

“
I’m
seventeen.” I said.

“
How much do
you want to borrow?”

“
Ten thousand
Rand.” I replied.

“
That’s a lot
of money for a youngster like you to want.” Rocky said. “What are
you going to do with it?”

“
I want to
start my own business.” I said.

“
Doing
what?”

“
I can get
hold of a large consignment of office copy paper at a really low
price.” I lied. “I’ll sell it door-to-door to businesses at a good
profit.”

The expressionless fish eyes
bored into me.

“
Where are
you going to keep this paper?”

“
In the
garage at my house.” I said.

“
Your house?”
Rocky asked. “I thought you were an orphan.”

“
I am.” I
said. “I inherited the house from my aunt.”

“
And I
suppose you want to use the house as surety.” Rocky
said.

I nodded.

“
I’m not
interested in that type of surety.” Rocky said. “Takes too long to
liquidate. What about the furniture?”

“
The
furniture’s old but in good condition.” I said.

“
Okay.” Rocky
said. “I’ll send someone to your house to value the furniture. If
its value exceeds the loan and the interest then we’ll do a
deal.”

“
What’s the
interest rate?” I asked.

“
Ten percent
of the outstanding amount per week.” Rocky said. “And the
repayments are one thousand Rand a week plus the interest. Take it
or leave it.”

I gave Rocky my home address and
left.

When I got home I calculated
that the loan of ten thousand Rand would cost me five thousand five
hundred Rand in interest and had to be paid back over a period of
ten weeks. It was outright theft but I had no option but to accept.
As long as the horse that I chose won I would easily be able to pay
back the loan and if I took the loan a week before the big race I
would be able to pay it back after a week and the interest would be
a measly one thousand Rand. At no time did I ever even consider
what would happen if the horse I chose didn’t win. But, with all
the information that I was gathering, whatever horse I chose would
win. I knew it would.

I searched the internet for
information on the horses, jockeys and trainers that would be
participating in the J & B Met and compiled a database for each
one. Two huge muscled men wearing tight T-shirts, blue denim jeans
and dark glasses came to the house and inspected the furniture.
They were intimidating and aggressive and simply walked into the
house when I opened the front door, not even greeting me. Shortly
after they left I received a call from Rocky Bogdanovic.

“
My boys tell
me that the furniture’s good enough to be used as surety for the
loan.” he said. “But if you removed any of it from the house before
the loan has been fully paid you’ll be in big trouble. Do you know
what I’m saying? Now, when do you want the money?”

The J & B Met was scheduled
to take place on the twenty sixth of January, the last Saturday of
the month.

“
I can only
take possession of the copy paper on the twenty fourth of January.”
I replied. “So I’d like to get the money on the twenty
third.”

“
Okay.” Rocky
said. “Wednesday the twenty third of January it is. Come here to my
office at ten o’clock in the morning. And bring your I.D. book. I
need to keep it until the loan's been repaid.”

Fortunately
Cindy had not been at home when Rocky’s two thugs came to inspect
the furniture. I was determined to keep my plans a secret and not
even tell her when the race was over and my horse had won. I kept
the data on the race participants that I’d collected locked in one
of the drawers in my desk and even deleted my internet roaming
history, although I knew that Cindy would never spy on me. Ever
since I was a child I had been secretive and loathed to disclose
things about myself to others.

By the Monday
before the big race I’d whittled the field down to five possible
winners. The favourite was Pocket Power, the previous year’s winner
at one to three on but I had my doubts that he could win a second
time. In recent times only one horse had managed to win the J &
B two years running. The other horse that interested me was Big
City Life, an outsider, but with form that indicated that he was
improving and had an excellent chance of winning. Big City Life’s
odds were twelve to one.

On the
Wednesday before the big race I went to Rocky Bogdanovic's shop,
signed the papers that he proffered
, left
my identity document with him and collected the cash.

Pocket
Power
’s odds of one to three on made it
impossible for me make enough from my ten thousand Rand and I
resolved that if my final choice was Pocket Power I would repay the
loan to Rocky together with the interest that had accrued during
the three days that I had the loan and wait for another
opportunity. But I became more and more convinced that Big City
Life was going to win. His form, jockey and trainer all indicated
that he was the horse to back. I decided to back the horse with the
ten thousand Rand and, worried that his odds would shorten I went
to the betting hall and placed my bet, spreading it amongst the
five book makers so as not to attract attention.

By the time
Saturday the twenty sixth arrived I was a nervous wreck but I kept
assuring myself that I
’d done all my
homework on the race and Big City Life would win. In the morning I
went with Cindy to buy groceries.

“
What’s wrong
with you, Garth?” she asked as we walked home. “You’re as taut as a
banjo string!”