Night of the Black Bastards (An Action-Packed Thriller) (30 page)

“Rainbowy? Is that even a word? Rapid Reaction Force. RRF? Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Although I have always envisaged a Speed and Tactics unit.  SAT One. And I am African, General, please do not forget that.”

“I haven’t forgotten. I know your blood runs green and gold! And we can discuss the formation of a new crime combating unit in more depth once you are settled in your new office at HQ.”

“Thank you General. And I am interested. I have felt it is time for a while now. But how will I move to the UK and be promoted to Captain.”

“The official role of Communications Officer will be nominal - more of a name and a face part than anything else. You will find the higher the rank of an officer in Africa the less work he actually does. Sad but true. The Commissioner’s office will issue statements and put your name on them. You can proof read everything via email when you are out of the country. And when you are international for extended periods of time we will put you on official leave. We will plan your leave cycles carefully. In any event do not worry, your rank and position will be safe.”

Night fell silent as his thoughts went to Lisa.

“You are thinking about Lisa, aren’t you.”

“Yes. I will tell her tomorrow, over dinner.”

“Will you break it off.”

“Probably not, although that would probably be best. But we aren’t really going out, officially, anyway. But I will tell her the truth and let her decide. I love her and she knows I have been thinking about travelling globally. The day was coming.”

“Why don’t you take her with you Mike. Marry her and live in England. Happily ever after…”

“Why, should I?” Night was surprised by the tone of the General’s probe.

“The future for whites in this country is not yet guaranteed Mike, as I am sure you know.”

“Why, what have you heard?”

“Nothing concrete but there are certain elements within the ruling party and the powerful trade unions that want the whites out or at least their land back, as they say.”

“I did not expect to hear this from you, I have not heard anything like this from you before General, should I worry?”

“You worry, no. I didn’t think that a possibility. Not for yourself anyway, men like you will be fine irrespective of what happens I am sure, but Lisa, she doesn’t have a British passport does she? Anyway enough of this talk. You will deal with your own personal issues. As for the larger concerns there are people fighting on both sides of the spectrum – for the whites and against them.”

The two men spoke about the possible future South Africa may hold for all of its citizens and the possibility of a bloody civil war if drastic action was ever taken. They talked about planning and preparation for the upcoming operation. The General had secured the services of four South African Police Special Task Force operators with the blessing, and appointment, of their powerful commander, a personal friend of General Arosi. Six men from the private firm Mike Romeo – led by the company founder himself, Eco Bravo. He had no choppers though and no heavily armoured vehicles. They would have to go in on foot and by thin skinned 4x4!

“So much for the two Casspirs and a helicopter hey General! T.I.A.”

“This. Is. Africa. Indeed Captain Night.”

The two men sat and finished their Cuban cigars and departed from the five star hotel some time later both pondering the future. The General’s thoughts were fixed on finally establishing a foothold in the English Capital – gateway to Europe. He had tried before to install a representative but he was killed. Too weak and inexperienced. But with Michael Night looking after the organisation’s interests in London, the world was opening her heart and arteries to the African influence he sought to exert. Michael Night’s thoughts were of Lisa, he loved her dearly, so much so that he had to protect his love for her because of who he was - a warrior destined to die by the bullet. He intuitively felt that she knew this and that she had also protected herself from him. Lisa was a powerful woman and Night hardly worried about her for he knew there were a score of men who would willingly lay down their lives to be with her, to protect her. Lisa had that typical Afrikaans strength that he had come to love and admire. He hated to admit it, only ever to himself, but he felt safe with her. Safe in the knowledge that she didn’t fundamentally rely on him for anything and that the love they shared was based on a mutual, enduring, desire for each other and freedom of choice and not on need, weakness or ownership. Love-Ownership is how Night saw modern day man’s concept of marriage. During conversation Lisa had agreed – it seemed to them that most people’s relationship and love for each other was based on proprietorship, you are mine and I am yours – then they could be happy and love each other. While Michael and Lisa believed, and often told each other, be with me while you still desire to be with me and while the flame of love still burns brightly in your heart.

Lisa often said to Michael after he told her that he loved her, which he said prudently anyway, “Don’t say that to me unless you fully realise those words and experience the sensation of love while you say them. I will not have any man tell me he loves me cheaply Mr Michael Night!”

The first time she said those words, he was stunned by the retort, from a woman? Telling him not to say “I love you” too often or without considered thought. He was dumbfounded at the time and lost for words. But those words sealed his love for her and made his love for her stronger every time she said them because he knew that this woman obviously understood love. A love that needs to be loved. “Love needs to be loved Michael! And taken care of and nurtured” she had once told him.

Perhaps they didn’t have to break up or even cool it off. A long distance relationship with lots of travelling in between. It wouldn’t be as clean cut as Night would have liked but Lisa van der Westhuizen was a very special woman after all.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

It was Student Constable Dlamini’s third day of training and he had arrived at the station ready for duty one hour early. November Whisky 50 had booked on duty and had been patrolling for the best part of the morning. The radio was quiet – so quiet in fact that Night had checked in with Lisa twice by mobile phone to inquire as to whether anything was wrong with the radio network.

“Everything’s fine” she had said. “Besides, you should be happy when the radio is quiet because it means that nobody’s becoming a victim of crime and that you are winning the war.”

Unfortunately that is not how a policeman’s brain works.  And for good reason too, Night told himself for when he checked the station’s Occurrence Book at the end of a shift for cases registered he often found that there were indeed acts of crime being committed while the radio was silent. The truth was that fewer and fewer people of South Africa were calling on the police to deal with acts of violent crime. The population of South Africa was losing faith in the police and turning to private security firms to give them safety and security. So much so that South Africa has the largest private security sector on the planet.

“Stop and search gentlemen” announced Sergeant Night. “If the radio is quiet we are going to stop and search every dodgy looking character from Hillbrow to Alex -- starting with those three hooded thugs over there!”  He pointed to three youths who sat on a low wall next to a petrol service station on Louis Botha Avenue in Orange Grove. Constable Shaka pulled the vehicle in to the garage and the police officers debussed.

Night and Dlamini approached the three boys, who all sported baggy jeans that exposed their underwear. Two of the boys were white and wore hooded tops and sunglasses. The third, a younger, black boy bore a red t-shirt and baseball cap.

“Hands! Let me see all of your hands!” commanded Night.

The younger boy’s hands shot up into the air immediately. Probably used to being searched by the police Night thought to himself sadly.

“Didn’t you little twerps hear my General! Put up your bloody stupid hands!” put in Student Constable Dlamini.

“It’s Captain actually, Dlamini” said Night nonchalantly.

Stanislov and Shaka looked at their Sergeant quizzically. “I’ll explain later” Night answered.

The two white boys stared at the young Student Constable and started to laugh. “And you are calling us little twerps!” one of the boys said.

Dlamini felt his face redden and was about to say something when Stanislov pushed past him. “Here, hold this” he said while handing Steven his R1 assault rifle. Dlamini’s face lit up in a wide grin while looking down at the weapon.

Stanislov used both his hands and reached around to the boys’ backs to grab their low hanging pants below the back where the belt buckles should have been on the reverse side. He used his prodigious strength and hauled the two youths off their feet, simultaneously turning them around to face the wall. As they fell face forward about to make impact with the wall their hands swiftly came out of their pockets and they grabbed the wall.

“See, we told you to get your hands out of your pockets!” said Stanislov. “Watch and learn Dlamini!” he said while using his right leg to kick apart the feet of each of the young men. “You kick them wide apart, like this. It affords you more protection for if your suspects try to take their hands off the wall and turn on you they will fall because they are off balance, see.”

Stanislov kicked hard and started to search the boys aggressively but in total Control. He wanted to scare them.

The young black boy started to laugh quietly while he stood motionless in his post with his hands still firmly in the air.

“What’s your name boy and what’s so funny?” said the giant Zulu who walked over to the young man.

“My name is Nkosinathi sir, but everyone just calls me Kosi and I was laughing because we saw you drive past earlier and my friends said you wouldn’t search us because they are white.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they said that. How wrong they were. Nkosinathi is a fine Zulu name boy. You must be proud of it. I am going to quickly search you to make sure that you aren’t carrying any weapons” said Constable Shaka.

“I’m not, sir.”

The Constable quickly but thoroughly searched the boy and found him to be free of weapons or any illegal substances.

“You can put your hands down now, son.”

Meanwhile Constable Stanislov was searching the two white boys who were being uncooperative and mouthy. They obviously knew that they had nothing on them so thought they were safe from prosecution, Stanislov supposed to himself.

“You can’t touch us! You don’t have a warrant!” said one of the boys. His friend also put in: “We know our rights! We gonna sue yo asses!”

“Really, ‘You gonna sue our assess’ ha!” said Stanislov, his Russian accent coming out now. Night knew this was either because he was becoming annoyed or amused. He hoped for the boys’ sake it was because he was amused.

“And vot makes you think we need a warrant to search two vanna be gangsters like you?”

“I know the law man and you need a warrant to search us or a legal reason at least. My dad’s a lawyer you know” said the taller of the two boys.

“You’re right boy we do need a legal reason to search people and we had vone to search you two little shits!” Stanislov knocked off each of their hoods and removed their sunglasses and threw them to the ground. Underneath all the hip hop gangster paraphernalia and attitude the police officer found two scared pubescent kids. One of the boys had freckles and scruffy red hair. The other was blonde with feminine features and a Justin Bieber haircut. Both were stick thin and had acne.

“That’s better. Now you both look a lot less suspicious and lot more like the young kids that you are” said Night.

Stanislov had swung both boys around to face the officers and both hung their heads to the ground and stared silently at the floor, their bravado falling from them as their shields of hood and sunglasses were removed.  

The young Nkosinathi spoke once more. “Excuse me sir but may I ask why you have searched us?”

“Yes you may ask us. But your question surprises me Nkosi because you seem to be used to having the police search you” said Constable Shaka.

“Yes sir I am used to it – at least once a month I am stopped and searched by cops but never while being around white friends. So why search us? Why this time, with them?” said Nkosinathi while looking at his young white friends who now stared silently at the floor.

“Quite simply because of what they are wearing Nkosinathi and because of what you are wearing but to a lesser extent” said Shaka.

“But that can’t be legal can it officer, you can’t stop and search somebody just because of what they are wearing, can you?”

“Yes we can. You see we are allowed to stop and search any citizen we believe looks suspicious. And before you ask, the reason you young men look suspicious is because you are all hiding your faces. Your friends have hoods over their heads which in colder weather we could perhaps understand but at the same time they wear sunglasses. It is warm this morning but not sunny enough to need sunglasses – as you can see its overcast. And you wear a baseball cap in cloudy conditions. We can understand your cap but combined with your friends who almost completely cover their faces in balmy conditions you look suspect.  And to top it off you all wear pants that are far too large for you. Are you an ex prison convict signalling to other men that you are open to and available for sexual intercourse?”

“What no, of course not but…”

“But nothing. Why else would you not wear pants that fitted you properly or at least wear a belt. The reason prisoners don’t wear a belt is because they are not allowed to because their belts are taken away in case they may be used to hang themselves. So wearing baggy pants that make you walk like a crab and look like ex-convicts will get you stopped and searched all year long in South Africa, my boy” said Constable Shaka.

“And we police by the numbers young man” said Night. “Statistics and experience tell us that the vast majority of armed robbers cover their faces while robbing people and businesses via the use of a baseball cap and less frequently while wearing hoods. And you three young boys are doing exactly that while loitering only a few metres away from a petrol station and cash machine. And did you know that loitering without purpose is also an offence in South Africa – an arrestable offence?”