Beloved was smiling. The longer his little speech had continued, the broader, yet shyer, the smile had become. ‘I love it when a man is passionate about the things he believes in.’
She’s doing it to me again, he thought. Perhaps he could find relief in a change of subject. ‘You also expressed interest in a prisoner by the name of Oliver Hall.’
‘Riveting case, I thought, when I read about it, a freedom fighter who went bad.’
‘He never was a freedom fighter,’ Yudel said. ‘As far as I can see, he was expelled within a few months of joining the liberation movement.’
‘But the authorities are paroling him on political grounds.’
‘Yes.’
‘Some view him as a serial killer, but most serial killers murder women, to exercise power over the victim. There’s usually a strong sex element.’
‘Yes.’
‘But Hall’s not like that.’
‘There may be a sex element, but his victims seem to have been both men and women.’
‘Seem to have been?’
Yudel was aware that Beloved was looking searchingly at him. This time there was no coquetry, no artificial shyness. ‘He hasn’t been found guilty of them all. In fact, the police do not have enough information to investigate everything he’s suspected of.’
‘I know.’
‘You know?’
It took Beloved a moment to recover. When she did, it was with one of her usual devices. She allowed a lock of hair to tumble over her eyes, then she tossed her head to remove it and smiled at Yudel. By the time the exercise was complete, he hardly remembered his question. ‘He really is a fascinating case,’ Beloved said. ‘After today, I may never get the chance to interview him. Please let me.’
Beloved was not accustomed to having her wishes refused by men and Yudel was no more resistant to her than other men had ever been. By the time Oliver Hall was brought in, Yudel had moved his chair to Beloved’s side of the table, ready to be her protector, should that be necessary. He was aware that the role of protector was not one that suited him well.
Yudel had not heard about Dlomo’s assault on Hall earlier that morning. So when a warder brought him in and directed him to the waiting chair, Hall’s bandages and neck brace were a surprise. Yudel rose more quickly than he would have chosen. ‘What the hell have you been up to?’
‘Please don’t do that, Mr Gordon.’ Hall’s elegant voice was a painful croak now. ‘Don’t use this as a device against me. I was the victim of a brutal attack and I was saved by one of your excellent staff members. If he hadn’t come, I should certainly have been dead by now.’
‘Who did it?’
‘I made my statement and explained everything at that time.’
‘Who?’
‘Your friend, Mr Dlomo.’
Yudel did not believe that Hall thought of Dlomo as his friend, but it gave him a weapon in his dealing with Yudel, if only a feeble one. Yudel had no doubt as to Dlomo’s capacity for violence, but he suspected there would be more to the incident than Hall’s version of it. He had seen too many such incidents to be disturbed by any of them. It was Beloved’s interest in this man he found disturbing. She had not explained her interest, at least not in a way that Yudel found believable.
‘I’ll look into the matter of your disagreement with Elia Dlomo,’ Yudel said. ‘In the meantime, my colleague, Miss Childe, would like to ask you a few questions. Of course, you don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.’
Hall smiled at Beloved. ‘I haven’t been introduced to Miss Childe,’ he croaked. The snorting sound rumbled gently as he spoke. ‘Please forgive my voice, ma’am,’ he said. ‘It’s my adenoids. I’ve had the condition since childhood.’
‘Beloved Childe,’ Beloved said, holding out a hand to Hall.
Hall glanced at the warder who was just inside the door. ‘No physical contact with the inmate,’ the warder said. Beloved withdrew her hand.
‘After tomorrow we can shake hands,’ Hall said, glancing at Yudel as he spoke. The look said, Yes, Gordon, tomorrow I can touch her and do anything else I want with her and you will not be able to do anything about it. ‘Is it in order if I call you Beloved, miss?’ He was doing his best to be the gallant gentleman.
‘I don’t think—’ Yudel started.
‘Of course,’ Beloved said, ‘and may I call you Oliver?’
‘Yes, Beloved.’ Again, the triumphant glance was directed at Yudel. So how am I doing with this chick, Gordon? it said.
‘Oliver.’ Beloved was looking at him in that direct way she had, but without any of the affected modesty and flirtatiousness Yudel had come to associate with her. ‘I want to tell you that the sound you make adds character to your voice. Is it the result of an injury?’
‘No. I’m told it’s genetic.’
She nodded, her eyes never leaving his face. ‘You were a soldier of the army of liberation, yet you turned to crime although the country is now democratic. I don’t understand why.’
Hall was waiting for the question. Yudel knew that Hall’s entire life was made up of an alertness that never left him. Every man, warder or prisoner, was a possible attacker or a prospective victim. Every woman he had contact with, and there were few of those these days, was an opportunity that could be exploited. ‘Beloved, people from your country don’t understand what it was like for people like me under the oppression of the apartheid system. We were nothing. The authorities did with us what they chose. I was not a man to them, I was a thing to be manipulated as they thought fit.’
And since the end of apartheid, Yudel thought, what about your activities since then?
‘I made mistakes, but I made honest mistakes. I’m not an evil man.’
Yudel had the photographs of what remained of the Du Toit family after Hall had finished with them and decided to show them to Beloved when this was over.
But she had seen the weakness in his protestations. ‘Some of your crimes were committed after 1994 though.’
‘They tell you everything changed in this country, but not much changed. You’ve heard the expression: the more things change, the more they stay the same.’
Beloved directed the discussion along a new path. ‘Oliver, how did you come to be in Camp Quatro?’ she asked gently.
This time it was Hall’s turn to be surprised, but he looked into her eyes with the directness of a man who had nothing to hide. ‘I was sent there. I was an Umkhonto we Sizwe soldier and the movement deployed me there.’
A male voice spoke from the door. ‘Yudel, I need to speak to you.’ Director Nkabinde was in the doorway.
Yudel looked from the director to Beloved, and then to Hall. She read the uncertainty in his look and spoke before he could. ‘I’ll be fine. I really will.’
The warder who had brought Hall in took a step forward. ‘I’ll be right here, Mr Gordon. You don’t need to worry.’
None of this was working according to Yudel’s intentions. He had still not moved. ‘It’s all right, Yudel,’ Beloved was saying. ‘Really, it is.’
Only Hall seemed to have no need to advise Yudel. The smallest, mocking smile revealed what he felt.
‘We won’t be long,’ the director said.
Yudel rose uncertainly. ‘You don’t move from here,’ he told the warder.
‘I’m right here,’ he said. ‘I’m right here all the time.’
Yudel paused in the doorway for a last look at Beloved’s serene, untroubled face and Hall’s arrogant one, before following Director Nkabinde to his office. ‘We found how they got in. They cut the perimeter fence behind Central. We think it happened while we were changing officers on the watch towers. They must have had inside information. And Dongwana’s here,’ he said, before they sat down. ‘He came to work.’
Yudel’s surprise was obvious. ‘Already?’
‘What the fuck is going on here, Yudel?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Have you seen the wife?’
‘No.’
‘The bastards fucked her up badly. Not much left of her face.’
‘The minister said she’ll pay for surgery.’
‘Good. Penny needs it. But why? That’s what I want to know. Has this got anything to do with us?’
‘I think so.’
‘What then?’
‘I think Dongwana knows.’
Director Nkabinde bit down on his teeth before replying. ‘This Dongwana, you’ve had dealings with him. Is he an honest man?’
Yudel held a hand parallel to the ground, the fingers spread, then waggled it slightly. ‘Yes, but he’s no fanatic.’
‘I’m fucking going to get the truth out of him.’
The director had already started for the door when Yudel reached out a hand to stop him. ‘Can we follow him first and see where he goes? Maybe we’ll learn more that way.’
MEMBER DONGWANA
was leaning against an industrial washing machine for support. He had struggled into his uniform as soon as Yudel and Freek had left. The shirt he was wearing had been worn before and was creased as if he had slept in it. His tie knot was too tight and lay at an irregular angle. He had remained in the hospital for only a few minutes and cried at the sight of Penny, still unconscious, her face heavily bandaged.
The drug had not worn off completely and Dongwana was struggling to focus on the man in front of him. Enslin Kruger was seated on a working surface used for stacking laundry. A few inmates were busy at the far end of the room. ‘You want something from me now, Alfred?’
‘I just don’t want Penny to get hurt some more.’ Dongwana was sobbing. He was speaking English. It provided common ground. Kruger could not understand Zulu and Dongwana had only the most basic understanding of Afrikaans, Kruger’s home language.
Kruger was appalled at the idea that anyone might want to hurt Penny. ‘We want the same thing. I look after my people. Don’ you know that, Alfred?’
Yes, Dongwana nodded. He knew that.
‘When you help me in the past, I look after you. You remember that?’
Dongwana nodded.
‘You make good money helping me. You got a nice
TV
, a nice car, everything nice for you. And why? Because you my friend. Nothing bad happens to you. Nothing bad happens to the missis. I look after my friends. Nobody hurts my friends. Nobody fucks my friend’s wife. I see to it.’
‘They hurt Penny too much,’ Dongwana said.
‘But you not my friend no more,’ Kruger explained patiently. ‘How can I protec’ you when you not my friend no more? In Africa, when you eat the king you stay hungry. Did you hear that?’
‘Yes.’
‘What then?’
‘I was scared.’ Dongwana’s lower lip was quivering. ‘I need my job. I can’t afford to lose my job.’
‘Lose your job? You not going to lose your job. If you my friend, you not going to lose your job. When the brown boers that think they run this place find out about my plans, do I tell them Alfred Dongwana helps me?’
Dongwana was studying the floor in front of him. Meeting Kruger’s eyes was not possible now. He said nothing.
‘Speak, Alfred. Do I tell them you help me?’
Dongwana managed a single word. ‘No.’
‘Who does the time?’
‘You.’ His voice was barely audible.
‘Who? I’m not hearing you.’
‘You, Mr Enslin.’
‘That’s right. I do the time and I look after you so you don’ get into no trouble. Never forget that.’
‘I won’t forget.’
‘I protec’ you. No one squeals on Alfred Dongwana. You know that?’
‘Yes, Mr Enslin.’
‘Good, Alfred, then we understand each other again.’
‘And Penny?’ It was the one matter that troubled Dongwana more than anything else, more than coherent thought could allow.
‘No one touches Penny no more. We friends again.’ Kruger’s voice had regained that patient, explaining tone. ‘We friends again, right?’
‘Yes.’ Dongwana forced out the word.
‘Good. You better go now, Alfred. But see you come to work every day. When the time comes, I’m going to need certain things, then I’m going tell you what you mus’ bring me. But don’ worry. I look after my friends.’
By the time Yudel got back to the office where he had left Beloved and Hall, the room was empty. He looked at his watch. He had been away little more than twenty minutes.
He paused only a moment in the office, then turned and hurried down the passage to the first gate on the way to the front entrance. The warder on duty came to attention at his approach. ‘That American lady—’ Yudel started.
‘Beloved?’ the warder suggested.
Jesus Christ, Yudel thought. Has she been introducing herself to everyone in the prison? ‘Yes, Beloved.’
‘She’s gone. She left after Member Morare came back and she finished talking to that inmate.’ The warders were better at the official terminology than Yudel was.
Yudel recognised the name of the warder who had been left with Beloved and Hall. ‘What do you mean? Wasn’t Morare with them the whole time?’
From Yudel’s tone, it was clear that things had not gone according to his wishes. ‘No. He left, then when he came back Miss Beloved left. I didn’t know anything, Mr Gordon.’
‘How long were they alone together?’
‘Maybe ten minutes.’
‘Do you know where Morare is?’
‘Section C, I think.’
Morare was patrolling in Section D when Yudel found him. ‘What the fuck did you think you were doing?’ Yudel rarely cursed, but he felt a pounding of blood inside his head that came close to destroying all self-control.
‘Don’t swear at me, Mr Gordon.’ He was backing away from a furious Yudel.
‘Don’t you fucking tell me how to behave. You had a direct instruction to stay with that lady and that inmate. You’re the one who told me that I had nothing to worry about. You said you would be there all the time.’
‘Yes, but the lady—’
‘What about the lady?’
‘She said I must go. She said she wanted to talk to the inmate alone. She has a letter from the minister …’
Yudel took a moment to digest this new information. When he spoke, the anger had been replaced by a measured bitterness. ‘She wanted to talk to him alone?’
‘I swear to God, Mr Gordon.’
‘And you let her.’
‘She’s an important lady … and the minister … and it was only two minutes.’
Yudel’s fury had turned cold as ice. He moved closer to Morare, who again retreated before him. ‘You disobeyed a direct instruction. I will see Director Nkabinde about this today.’