The Monster's Daughter (46 page)

“What's that got to do with my dad?”

“My source tells me that Adriaan was one of the CCB commanders.” Theo frowned. “You sure you want me to go on?”

Alet nodded.

“Adriaan had a number of assassins in his unit, some
askaris
who were turned, some Security Branch men. All of them highly skilled. They had access to guns, bombs … they sometimes resorted to chemicals, switching a target's medication out, putting thallium in beer,
even poison in clothes and on toilet seats. There were several bioengineering shell companies that developed this stuff. Nico Koch worked for one of them.”

“And he knew my dad through working with him on murder cases.”

“
Ja
. They go back a long way. Anyway, Koch was hired by one of these shell companies when your dad was transferred out of Brixton. High-level stuff.”

“So Koch is the Mengele to my dad's Himmler?”

“You need a drink?”

“Make it whiskey. Don't bother with ice.”

Alet's hand was unsteady as she took the drink from Theo. “I assume all of this was government-sanctioned?”

“And funded. They even tried to develop some sort of chemical agent that would only kill blacks.”

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“Not now. But back then their ideologies were more important than facts. They couldn't see past it. Blacks were less human than whites to them. Probably thought they could zero in on some animal gene or something.” Theo shook his head. “Nothing came of it, as far as I know. There were rumors of tests across the border—”

“So why is my dad not in jail?”

“The people close to him were loyal, kept their mouths shut. Sometimes the killing was contracted out to township gangsters who didn't even know they were doing work for the government. They just got the name of a target and a bunch of money once the job was done.”

“What else?”

“That's all I have now. I'll keep digging.”

“Thanks, hey.” Alet touched Theo's thigh, letting her hand linger a moment too long.

Theo looked up at her, before pulling away awkwardly. “You're the one who left, Alet. Remember?”

“I'll go. The backseat of the car will do for a few hours.”

“No. Stay. I'll go to Lana's place. Make yourself at home.” Theo got up to leave, but turned around in the doorway. “Look, I have a good feeling about Lana. I don't want to mess it up if …”

“She seems great.”

Theo smiled. “You think so?”

Alet nodded. “I'm sorry about tonight. I really am.”

“We're okay. Don't worry.” Theo pulled his sweatshirt over his head. “There's bread in the fridge, coffee by the kettle. I'll call you in the morning, okay?”

Alet tossed around on the couch for a while, trying to get comfortable, her long legs dangling over the armrest. She gave up after a while and started poring through Theo's research files, reading every incident report, every name, every abuse. After a while the crimes lost their borders, meshing into a dark litany of human atrocities. Why didn't she know? She was only a child around the time of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission's hearings, and the adults always changed the TV channel whenever the broadcasts came on. Nobody talked about it in church or in school except as a nuisance, the inference always that the blacks were lying. By the time she'd reached college, a weariness prevailed across the land. Nobody wanted to talk about it anymore. It was better to pretend that they were all just one big politically correct family, even as the hatred curdled underneath it all.

Alet went down the list of TRC witnesses, not recognizing any of the names. There was one reference to her father by a witness named Jim, but Jim never showed up to testify.

Alet cross-referenced the name Jim with the available witness information. Jim's birth name was given as Jacob Morgan, born in 1961. Morgan. The name sounded familiar. Alet made a note to look it up.

Morning light steadily penetrated the blinds in Theo's kitchen. Alet put the last piece of paper down and got up to make coffee, her limbs stiff from the awkward reclining position that she'd been sitting in all night. She was exhausted, struggling with a confusion of emotions, with the fact that it was shame, not pride, that now seemed to define her heritage. So many deaths, lies going back for almost a century, and she'd had no idea. She had accepted the notion that it had been better before, and yet she'd never given it real thought. It was easier to cling to a comfortable illusion than to look for the truth. But the truth was steadily encroaching on her world, and she had no idea which of her illusions would be shattered next.

The toddler waddled to the elephant enclosure, her large eyes sparkling with excitement. “Fant,” she shouted, her small outstretched hand reaching toward the enormous animal. Her father yelled at her, ordering her back. A thin, bedraggled woman with stiff hair followed a few steps behind him, pushing the child's empty stroller. It wasn't the same woman Benjamin remembered Adriaan Berg being married to. Wife number two seemed much more … compliant.

Sudden tears glinted in the toddler's eyes at the reprimand, followed by wailing. Mrs. Berg number two picked her up. “Stop that, please, Alet.
Pa
will never bring you to the zoo again if you don't behave.” A look passed between her and Berg, difficult to place, but certainly devoid of warmth.

Benjamin sauntered behind them, blending in with the crowd, while observing the family. He was surprised at Berg for bringing his family to such a public place. There had been a bombing at an Amanzimtoti mall just the previous week, five civilians killed and forty injured. It was the latest in a string of ANC bombings aimed at soft targets. Whites lived in fear, the police on edge. The shops were practically deserted for the Christmas season.

The girl, Alet, calmed down a bit as the woman put her in the stroller. They headed to the next section of cages. Primates. Benjamin followed, the smell of animal feces rank as they got closer. Berg seemed to issue some instructions to his wife, leaving her and the child alone to stare at the baboons while he disappeared in the direction of the public toilets.

“You can see the familial resemblance,” Benjamin said as he sauntered up behind Mrs. Berg number two.

“Sorry?” The woman had a vapid expression. Benjamin wondered how Berg tolerated her presence day in and day out. He supposed Berg liked them like that, easy to control, fewer questions about his late-night activities.

“I mean, your ancestors didn't look too different from these guys, you know.”

“You saying I'm a monkey?”

“I believe you mean ape.”

“I'm not an ape. That's only the blacks. That's where they come from, you know.”

Benjamin took a deep breath. Stupid and ignorant, like most of them, content to let the government and the church dictate their thoughts. This was the mythical Afrikaner nation, the chosen race. He had so desperately wanted to be accepted by them once. What for? He hunched down next to the stroller. “And what's your name?”

Suspicious eyes met his. The little girl clutched a yellow baby blanket, sucking at its edges.

“This is Alet. She's eighteen months today.” The pride in the woman's voice sounded funny to Benjamin, as if she was expressing pride over breathing or emptying her bowels.

“She looks a bit like a baby chimp to me. Don't you think?”

Mrs. Berg number two opened her mouth, shock on her face. Benjamin stood up and turned in time to stop Berg from sending him crashing into the fence post.

“You're loud and slow, Adriaan.”

Berg grabbed the collar of Benjamin's jacket. “Get away from them.” Benjamin's knee caught Berg in the stomach. Berg let go. “I'll kill you,” he gasped. He reached for his hip, coming up empty.

“Forgot something, Adriaan?”

Berg didn't take his eyes of Benjamin. “Take Alet to the car, Gerda.” Mrs. Berg number two hesitated. “Now,” Berg barked. The woman scurried away, looking over her shoulder every few steps as she made her way up the lane to the zoo's entrance. Berg never took his eyes off Benjamin.

“Let's walk,” Benjamin said, noticing the onlookers, stopped mid-stride to observe the spectacle. He started down the lane, wondering for a moment if Berg had it in him to walk away, but then he heard
the crunch on the gravel behind him. He leaned on a banister as soon as they were far enough away to have some privacy. Inside the cage, a hawk sat in the crook of a tree, blinking slowly as it surveyed the newcomers.

“What do you want, De Beer?” Berg's body was poised to react.

“Be civil, Adriaan.”

Berg crossed his arms. “You're wasting my time.”

“I have tolerated your interest in my work for some years now, Adriaan. I was flattered by your persistence, frankly. But your clumsy excuse for an investigation is becoming annoying.”

The frown on Berg's face eased. “So it was you.”

“The Angel Killer,” Benjamin laughed. “Was that your idea?”

“One of the constables. The girls all looked the same, he said, like angels.”

“And you didn't stop the media from latching on to that.”

“I thought it was poetic, your old squad name finding you again. The old boys still talk about you, you know? None of them realizes what a monster you really are.”

Benjamin sighed. “You're a hypocrite, Adriaan. You hide behind policy and crude ideals, thinking it absolves you. Believe it, if it helps you sleep, but at the end of the day there is no real difference between you and me.”

“I take care of threats to our nation. I don't go around killing my own. Us against them, remember?” Adriaan's face swelled red with indignation. “What you do is … barbaric, killing innocents, just like the
kaffirs
do.” Berg had regained his composure. He locked eyes with Benjamin. “That last girl? Her name was Liezl Brits.”

“Oh?” Benjamin feigned interest.

“
Ja
. She was a nurse. A sweet girl who taught Sunday school and liked to visit her
ouma
.”

“A real-life Red Riding Hood.”

“What you did to her … it destroyed her family. Good people.”

“And the powerful Adriaan Berg promised them he'd catch her killer. Is that right? They must be so disappointed.”

“She was a real person, not just some—”

“I'm offended that you've resorted to cheap tricks, Adriaan. Did you think I'd feel remorse? Do you really think I randomly pick
women out of a crowd? That I'm not absolutely sure of what I'm doing every single time? There is nothing you can tell me about darling Liezl, or any of them, that I didn't already know. Nothing. As a matter of fact, I think I can teach
you
a thing or two about poor little Liezl.”

Adriaan narrowed his eyes. “I showed her family and friends your photo, to see if they recognized you.”

“They have no part in this.”

“
Ja
, I realized it soon enough, but as I passed your photo around, I realized something. You see, the photo was the one on record, from when you joined the force. What was that? Almost thirty years ago?”

“Feels like yesterday.”

“Records give your birth as 1938. You're supposed to be pushing fifty and you don't look like you've grown chest hair yet. I looked into stolen identities, but then I remembered you from the days in the bush. Took a few phone calls, but I found a picture of the unit.”

Benjamin kept his emotions in check, even though he wanted to pummel the knowing smirk off Berg's face.

“You had a beard back then, De Beer, always wore those dark glasses, but I'll be damned if you look a day older now than you did then, than you did in that ID picture.”

“What can I say? It's good genes.” Benjamin chuckled at his own joke, then at the confusion on Berg's face.

Berg frowned. “How do you do it?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you taking some kind of drug? Or are you just a freak of nature?”

Benjamin waved Berg off, his mood souring. “What I want to talk about is your lovely family.” He felt something akin to pleasure again as he noticed tension tightening its grip on Berg's body, his vulnerability clear. Van Vuuren had been right all those years ago not to allow married men into the unit.

Berg stepped up to Benjamin, their faces inches apart. “I will hunt you down if you touch a hair—”

“Get off me, Adriaan.” Benjamin's voice was void of emotion. “You need to hear what I have to say.” Berg stepped away. Benjamin straightened out his jacket. “Your newly found conscience is interesting, but irrelevant. Because you're going to walk away from this case, forget I exist.”

“Others are involved in the investigation. I can't just—”

“I'm sure you can lead things in a different direction.” Benjamin winked. “Wouldn't be the first time, now would it.”

“Captain,” Berg pleaded, a hint of distress in his voice. “Those girls didn't deserve it. To burn them like that … They are your people.”

“My people …” The words felt strange to Benjamin. He wondered at how different the meaning of that concept was to Berg, triggering feelings of protection rather than annihilation. The hawk swooped down suddenly, then soared as high as the cage would allow. “I'm doing what needs to be done, Adriaan. Like you.”

“Look, I get it.” Berg's tone softened. “I was there too, remember? We were children who signed up to be policemen and ended up in a war zone, ordered to kill. You can't switch that kind of thing off when you get back home.”

An image of the bush flashed before Benjamin, the body of a freedom fighter dragged behind a patrol vehicle for miles until his skin was sloughed off and you couldn't tell whether he was black or white anymore. The Casspirs would roll over the ones still alive to finish them off. Benjamin still woke up at night, the sound of bones crushing under tank wheels echoing in his mind. He had seen hundreds of bodies dumped into mass graves. He knew these men like Berg, what they were capable of. What he himself was capable of. His chest suddenly felt constricted. “So what do you do?”