A man in uniform appeared at the far end of the platform. Hall stepped back into the nearest shadow. But the uniform was that of the railways and the man was carrying a signal lantern. He came past Hall without glancing at him.
The train rumbled into the station on time. It stopped just long enough for one passenger to alight and Hall and the others to come on board, before moving smoothly on its way. Inside one of the premier-class coaches Hall found a conductor who directed him to a compartment he shared with one other man. ‘Dining car will open in an hour,’ the conductor said, ‘but you can get coffee or a drink if you want one this early. It’s two cars towards the front of the train.’
When he reached it, four passengers were already in the dining car. Two white men were sitting together at the far end, drinking coffee. Closer to him a middle-aged coloured man and woman seemed to be waiting for breakfast. He found a table as far from the others as he could. A solemn-faced waiter came over to ask what he wanted. ‘Coffee,’ Hall told him.
As the waiter went away to fetch the coffee, the door of the coach behind Hall opened, letting in a brief blast of cold air, then closed again. He felt his arms and shoulders stiffen. Immediately he was sorry that he was sitting with his back to the door. There were doors at both ends of the coach, but more of the train was behind him, so that was the door people were likely to use. It was not reasoning that had caused the tension in his arms and shoulders though. He also felt that this was no time to turn round.
A big man came down the aisle, brushing past him. He was wearing a dark suit and what seemed to be a clerical collar. But there was something about his way of moving that was familiar. He moved easily, but with the slightly ponderous way of many big men.
The newcomer sat down with his back to Hall. The unsmiling waiter returned and took another order for coffee. It was as the waiter left that the new arrival turned towards a window and, for the first time, just for a moment, Hall saw his face in profile.
It was impossible. Elia Dlomo could not be here. The bastard was still inside C-Max. He had no parole coming up. It couldn’t be him.
Hall forced his eyes away from the man in front of him. He believed that if you stared at the back of a man’s head long enough he would turn round and look straight at you. If you did not want him to spot you, you had to keep your eyes under control. You had to trust to peripheral vision. And yet he had to get a better look at that face.
Hall felt the haft of the knife against his side and the straps of the holster where it fitted around his shoulder. If this was Dlomo, Hall felt he had the advantage, a very big advantage, of knowing that he was on the train, while Dlomo knew nothing of Hall’s presence.
But I have to move, he thought. I can’t stay here. If he turns round, everything will be fucked. On the other hand, if I go back to my compartment and know he’s on the train, but I don’t know where he is or when I might run into him, that too could be trouble.
The door at the end of the coach had a glass panel and the space beyond it where the coaches were coupled was lit by perhaps one weak globe, while the dining car was brightly lit. If he waited there he would be able to see Dlomo – that is, if the man in the clerical outfit was Dlomo – while he would be barely visible.
Hall rose and moved slowly towards the back of the coach. Hurrying could lead to disaster. The temptation to look back and ensure that Dlomo had not seen him was strong, but to look into his face would be certain disaster. He passed through the door and into the semi-darkness beyond. In the relative shelter beyong the glass pane he allowed himself to look back. As far as he could see, Dlomo had not moved. And yes, it was Dlomo. He was sure of it now. Or was it his imagination? he asked himself.
If he surprised Dlomo, doing a job on him would only take a moment, but was this the place to do it? In the next coach there was an outside door and plenty of windows. As long as there was not too much blood, getting rid of the body should be easy. He looked down the passage, but it was empty. The passengers were in their compartments, most of them still asleep. That was not the case in the third compartment though. Its door was open. Someone there was awake, perhaps more than one, and would be able to hear sounds from the passage.
He turned back to the dining car. Dlomo was on his feet, but still facing away from him. He’s coming, Hall thought. The son of a bitch is coming. He tried to surprise me, now he’s going to see what a real surprise is.
The knife was in Hall’s right hand. The strike would come from low down. The knife and the hand that held it would be hidden till the last moment. The point of the knife would enter just below the rib cage and pierce the heart a moment later. It was a strike he had used before. They never expected it to be coming from that angle. Dlomo had tried the same thing on him. Now he would show the bastard how it was done.
Dlomo dusted something off the front of his pants, then he was moving, but away from Hall without looking back. He traversed the length of the dining car and left it by the far door, the opposite end from which he had entered. The knife found its way back into the holster and Hall breathed deeply. But this did not mean that it was over, he thought. It could never be over, not after Warrenton.
YUDEL
called the warder in the control room to make sure that his voice was steady. It was essential that he be in control of himself and his emotions before he did what he knew had to be done. He had to confront the real killer and he had to do it now.
The poor, sad bastard who had fired the shot that killed the director was no more than an extension of Enslin Kruger’s will. Yudel had to face him now because he knew that Kruger would be in a state of heightened excitement. If there was a chance for him to say something that would incriminate him, this was the moment.
It took ten minutes for Kruger to be brought to him. By that time the hidden recorder was running. Even in his physical condition and despite the warders on either side of him and the furtive movement of his eyes, Kruger tried a swaggering walk, shoulders back and head held high.
You phoney bastard, Yudel thought. ‘You’ve gone too far this time,’ he said.
Kruger was still standing between the two warders. He swayed slightly. ‘You going to let me sit down?’
‘No.’
Kruger turned his head slightly to avoid looking directly at Yudel. ‘I know what you doin’. Don’ try that on me. I was in my cell when this nonsense started. It’s not my game.’
‘We both know the truth about that.’ Yudel’s tone was flat and without any trace of emotion.
‘Don’ tell me what we both know. I know you, Gordon. From the beginning you had it in for me. You a bastard. I was in my cell when some other bugger pulled the trigger on the director.’
‘You’re not getting away with that.’
Kruger’s voice took on a jeering note. ‘I’m awready in for life. What you going to do to me?’
‘You know damned well what I can do to you.’
And Kruger did know. He had never met a convict who had been in Kokstad and was now a free man. A ticket to that place was one way only. Prisoners who were sent there spent the rest of their lives in solitary. There were those who said that by going to prison for life, your life was over. In Kokstad it was true. ‘That’s not right. Sending me to Kokstad is not right. You been looking for me from the beginning. I know you. I’m a tired old man, but you keep me here. You coulda let me out on compassionate groun’s long ago.’
Now that Kruger realised what could still be done to him, Yudel was ready to take the matter further. ‘Tell me one thing: why? This is not an escape attempt. So why do it? You didn’t think you were going to take over the prison, did you? You know better than that?’
‘I tol’ you it wasn’ me.’
Yudel ignored his protestations. ‘Sam Nkabinde was better to you than most directors have ever been. I told him he was wasting his time on you.’
‘I had nothing against him. Talk to the man who did it.’
We both know what happened to him, Yudel thought. ‘You know more than anyone about what’s happening in this prison.’
‘More’n you?’
‘Yes, more than me.’
‘I never thought I’d hear you admit it.’
‘Well, I admit it.’
‘Maybe I do know.’
Of course you do, Yudel thought. ‘Nothing moves in these walls that you don’t know about.’
Kruger smiled, a bitter expression. ‘So you know that now?’
‘But why this thing? The only result is a lock-down. What’s the point?’
Kruger pointed a finger at Yudel. ‘The point is I got power inside and outside this place. That’s the point.’
Yes, I know about your power on the outside, Yudel thought. And Alfred Dongwana knows. And now your man Hall is on the outside. ‘Let him sit down,’ Yudel told the warders.
Kruger lowered himself onto the chair, leaning on the edge of the desk for support. ‘I won’t say thank you. You coulda let me sit down when I came in.’
‘Well, you’re sitting now. So tell me, are you a tired old man I should’ve shown mercy to or are you a powerful man with power both inside and outside C-Max?’
‘You trying to play with me, Gordon.’
‘No, I’m not playing with you. You are an old man, but you are also powerful – but only on the inside. I don’t see that you have power on the outside.’
‘Gordon, you dunno nothing about nothing.’
‘Oliver Hall being free doesn’t give you power.’ Yudel was looking straight into his eyes and he could see Kruger bridling under the pressure of his disbelief. This was a man who needed to have his power acknowledged. Just having it was not enough.
‘You think it’s jus’ Oliver Hall. It’s not jus’ Oliver Hall.’
And Hall’s adventure in Warrenton, Yudel wondered. You know about that, don’t you? ‘What’s Hall going to do anyway? We’ll have him in twenty-four hours.’
‘It’s not jus’ Hall.’
‘What can Hall or anyone else do?’
‘You wait and you gonna see.’
Yudel doubted that killing Jenny Pregnalato was of interest to Kruger. ‘Hall’s been having his own kind of fun. He’s not attending to your business.’
‘You jus’ wait and see. You wait and see.’ The words boiled furiously out of Kruger. Yudel could see how badly the other man needed him to acknowledge his power. ‘None of you should think you safe outside.’
Yudel thought about that. ‘Beloved Childe,’ he said.
Kruger laughed out loud. ‘She’s not your kid, Gordon. She’s just a blonde from the States. In any case, it’s too late now.’
‘Too late for what?’
‘It’s too late now. The dice is rolling.’
‘Too late for Beloved?’ Speech had just become more difficult. ‘Are you saying it’s too late for Beloved?’
‘What you going to do about anything? You stuck here now. There’s nothing you can do, not while the prison is rioting.’
Oh my God, Yudel thought. Is that what this is? A diversion to keep me away from Beloved, to stop me even thinking about her? He looked at Kruger and saw an old man, desperate to demonstrate that he was in charge, but undermining his own strategy because he needed Yudel to believe him.
It almost worked, Yudel realised. Almost, but not quite.
Yudel tried the number of Abigail’s cellphone, but it was on voicemail. It seemed to be a permanent condition of the cellphones he tried. He called her office and the call was answered by her cheerful
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, Johanna. ‘She’s in court this morning, Mr Gordon. But how are you, Mr Gordon?’
‘I’m well,’ Yudel said. ‘Listen, Johanna, I want you to give her a message.’
‘Certainly, Mr Gordon. I’ll give her a message, but I probably won’t see her till this afternoon. I think she’ll go straight to the hospital after court. I told her I didn’t think she should come here because—’
‘The hospital? Why’s she going to the hospital?’
‘She’s visiting her ex. I told her she should be careful because the new wife—’
‘What is Robert doing in hospital?’
‘It’s because he got shot, Mr Gordon. He’s very sick now. I told Abigail the new wife might not—’
‘Johanna.’ Yudel managed to bring enough urgency to his tone for Johanna to stop recounting all she had said.
‘Yes, Mr Gordon.’
‘Who shot him?’
‘I don’t know. Nobody knows. It’s a mystery. They say it was people from Mpumalanga. They shot him three days ago.’
‘Christ,’ Yudel said. ‘Why did no one tell me?’
‘I don’t know, Mr Gordon. I didn’t know I had to. It was in the newspapers and on television.’
It was probably a week since Yudel had last seen a newspaper. ‘I want you to find her in court or hospital or wherever she is and tell her Oliver Hall is on his way to Cape Town and if there’s any way she can warn Beloved she should do it. Will you do that?’
‘I’ll ask permission right now.’
‘No, don’t ask permission. I don’t want anyone refusing you. Beloved may be in danger.’
‘That blonde girl who was staying with Abigail?’
‘Yes. Also tell her that Beloved should stay away from the Freedom Foundation if Hall knows that he can find her there.’
‘This is very exciting,’ Johanna gushed. ‘Also frightening.’
‘More frightening than exciting. Go now and do what I asked you.’
‘Who’s Oliver Hall?’
Everyone seemed to ask that question. ‘Don’t worry about that. Abigail knows.’
‘Okay.’
‘Johanna, are you on your feet?’
She looked down at her feet which were neat and little, currently encased in shoes with stiletto heels and little bands around the ankles, the kind some popular psychologists tell us are worn by women searching for a mate. ‘No, not yet.’
‘Well, get on your feet.’
Johanna rose uncertainly. ‘I’m on my feet now, Mr Gordon.’
‘Then go now. Go immediately. And don’t ask permission.’
After he had hung up, Yudel tried to call Freek, but could not get through. ‘Yudel, he’s not here and he’s dealing with an emergency they have in the Cape,’ Freek’s
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told him. ‘He’s advising them what to do. I don’t know why. It’s not our jurisdiction.’
‘Does it have to do with a criminal called Oliver Hall.’