Happiness couldn’t hear Nkosi’s barking because all she had access to was a silent video stream. She didn’t even suspect that the dog was barking. The images she was monitoring didn’t cover the area where he had come to a stop. However, one thing puzzled her. Her impression had been that the boy she had just seen was actually located over toward the river. Only a short clip. He’d dashed through the picture—maybe he’d known that a camera was mounted there. But all the security guards and cops were currently moving around the center of The Pines. There had to be a reason for that. For just a moment, she’d considered calling Warren or the young van Lange. However, there was a reason for everything. Of that she was certain.
As Nkosi started to bark, Police Inspector Vukile Pokwana was driving his Citi Golf around the last traffic circle before Dorchester Heights. He’d almost driven into the curb, since he’d been driving with only one hand. No power steering here. The vehicle had been the only one available, but it was had been a better choice than his own car, since it was at least recognizable as a police vehicle. He had a bad feeling about what he was heading into. “I’m almost there, yes,” he confirmed into his phone, as he struggled to keep the VW in its lane. “And I’ve asked the station in Cambridge to send us more manpower. There’s no way this idiot’s going to waste our entire day… Uh-huh… Like I said, I’m almost there.”
Fucking dog. Warrant Officer Bezuidenhout turned aside and covered his ears. He needed to think. The boy was in this house, and since the dog wouldn’t stop barking, he had to be aware that they were on to him. Storming the house was one possibility. Another was to demand that he come out. And to call in backup so nothing went wrong. Another security vehicle came around the corner and pulled up. The situation fell way beyond the scope of the security guys’ responsibilities. Had he even loaded his service pistol? He pulled it from his holster to check. That fucking dog.
78
Already another hedge, already another wall. Moses jumped and ran. He knew he had to get away from the wall. If he didn’t, the guards who had found the referee would easily spot him. And who knew… if one of them was carrying a service pistol…
Moses leaped to the side, ran a few steps toward the street, and hunched down. In front of him, a waist-high wall and a sightline deep into the middle of the gated community. Too much activity. He was looking down a street heading away from him. He saw the backs of two guards jogging in the opposite direction. A silver-and-blue Central Alert vehicle approached, before turning and following them down the street. A compact car drove up from his left. Hopefully, it wasn’t going to park next to him. One, two, three… The car kept going. Just as the car turned into another driveway, a police car materialized. It also turned down the street that led into the center of The Pines.
The two guards who had just been helping the referee also showed up. They were supporting him with linked arms. His face was bleeding, his blue t-shirt was red, he looked old. The three of them were moving slowly. One of the two—the heavy one that hadn’t been able to chase him—was on the phone. He could hear his voice, but couldn’t make out what he was saying.
What could’ve happened? Why didn’t they seem to care about him anymore? What could be worse than a young black man guilty of both theft and rape? More precisely: Who?
Now he could hear: “…the manager… They’re coming now… good… got away from me, too… the pig… we almost…”
Moses had no idea what the guard was talking about. The dog was barking like crazy. Wasn’t stopping. He then heard a very different sound. And although he knew these things always sounded different on TV and in the movies… He knew it was a shot.
Moses waited for what would happen next. He then heard another. And yet another.
The three men were now standing right in front of him. “He’s now shooting at us, too,” the fat man said.
79
The two mem in the room were very quiet. The dog outside wasn’t. He was yapping like there was no tomorrow. Thembinkosi was drenched in sweat, and all he wanted was to get out. Out of the wardrobe, out of the room, out of the house, out of the gated community.
They really needed to consider if they wanted to continue doing this. After today.
“What’s it mean?” High Voice’s voice almost cracked. “Look, that dog’s barking at our house. What for?”
“I don’t know.” Deep Voice was as quiet as usual, but he was starting to stretch out his words. Thembinkosi could feel the tension in each one.
“But what does the dog want here? Why did they even bring it here?”
“Be quiet. Very quiet. Do you understand? I don’t want you to say anything else. Not a sound, not a word. Can you manage that?”
“But… I mean…”
“Not a word!” Deep Voice was barely audible. That was how much his voice had dropped.
“Okay.”
The dog was barking incessantly.
“Out there,” Deep Voice whispered. “Something’s not right.”
“That’s what I was saying.”
“And I told you to keep your mouth shut!” They hadn’t heard Deep Voice speak so loudly.
“Okay.”
“The dog can’t help it. It’s followed a scent. And the scent has led it here. It can’t have anything to do with us. You may say something now. Fine by me. Say something if you want to contradict me.”
High Voice said nothing.
“Good.”
There was a flurry of activity outside. The dog kept barking. Cars pulled up. Doors slammed. Thembinkosi heard voices that were increasingly frantic. The dog stopped.
“Finally,” High Voice breathed.
The dog started up again. All he’d done was take a breath.
“Shit,” High Voice said. The dog barked continuously.
“Shit!” High Voice repeated.
But it sounded different somehow. Not as fatalistic as before. Not resigned. Not as a commentary on something everyone had known and seen for a long time.
“Shit!” he said again. And his tone changed from excitement to panic.
“Forget it!” Deep Voice urged.
“But look!”
“But he hasn’t seen us. Forget it!”
“That’s a pistol. He’s holding a pistol.”
“I can see it’s a pistol, but that still doesn’t have anything to do with us.” Deep Voice was trying to stay cool, which he was managing to do with effort. “Put. That. Thing. Up.”
“I won’t let them take me out.”
From what Thembinkosi had understood, someone outside was pointing a gun at the house. And one or two meters away from his hiding place, someone else was aiming at that same person. He had to do something. Anything.
“Put it away.”
“You’ve ordered me around long enough.” Footsteps moving around. Someone leaping. Someone falling.
“Stop it.”
“See that?”
“We have to consider how to get out of here.”
Thembinkosi opened his wardrobe door. He didn’t say anything.
High Voice was standing with gun in hand over Deep Voice. High Voice was the skinny man with blonde curls that had seen too much sun. Faded jeans, gray polo shirt, sneakers. Deep Voice was more powerfully built, no gun in sight.
Bald head, white t-shirt with an ocean wave on it, darker jeans, leather shoes. He hadn’t imagined the two of them so shabby.
They hadn’t imagined that someone was in the wardrobe.
High Voice pointed his gun at Thembinkosi. Deep Voice sprang up and grabbed his arm.
High Voice fired.
The bullet shattered the window.