The next drawer held menus. The one on top seemed familiar to him. A restaurant chain that had a branch in East London. He’d eaten there once. Then, a few others he’d never heard of before. Another one whose logo seemed familiar to him. Why did people take restaurant menus home with them?
The large bedroom made a very different impression than the small one. It was stuffed with an oversized bed, two nightstands, a mirrored dresser with a marble top, and three chairs from a suite of furniture whose other pieces had to be stored somewhere else. The coverlet was turquoise. A red runner stretched across the blue carpet. How could you live with all this?
Thembinkosi lifted the mattress and ran his hand underneath it. Raised it a little more and took a look as well. Nothing. He opened the cosmetics packages in the dresser. Two shirts still sealed in their original plastic bags sat in the wardrobe. He checked these out, too. He then left the bedroom and went to the kitchen.
15
The garbage can reeked of rotten fruit and decay. That wasn’t the only reason he was thinking about a cigarette. He actually only smoked in the evenings these days, and only when he had a beer in front of him. But a smoke would have been just the thing right now. Moses held his nose and watched the street. The referee was alone when he rounded the corner. They had separated after all. Slow strides. Looking all around. This was Moses’ first chance to study him more carefully. He was closer to his late fifties than his early ones. He was wearing a light blue polo shirt over shorts similar to the ones Moses had worn for gym class years ago. His hairy legs were stuck in white socks with a red band at the top, and he was wearing blue and yellow New Balance sneakers.
The referee waved at someone. A car from the security company drove up and came to a stop beside him. Was it the same one he had just run away from? A man in uniform got out, tall and very broad. His smooth, bald head glittered, and in his reflective sunglasses, he looked like a frog. Like a black frog. The two men were less than thirty meters away from him. They were both talking, and the referee was gesturing, as well. Moses could only make out fragments.
“…like a… all of a sudden… young and fast…” The referee.
“…surely soon not far… backup…” The frog nodded.
The referee shook his head emphatically, pointing at his taser. Maybe he was explaining that he hadn’t seen a weapon. Or that he’d almost taken him out.
The frog shrugged. The fact that the referee hadn’t seen a weapon didn’t mean that Moses wasn’t armed. Super. The army would show up any minute.
The referee gestured vaguely at the area and walked on. The frog pulled a phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed someone. He leaned against the hood of his car, and started talking into his phone. Moses glanced around. What street would take him closer to the exit?
16
A gold ring, a silver pen, a watch that looked expensive but was probably a Chinese knockoff, a handful of Mozambique bills.
“That’s it?” Thembinkosi asked. He was inspecting their haul. The gold ring wasn’t made of gold after all.
“I went through everything twice,” Nozipho confirmed. “At least we have the money.”
Thembinkosi pocketed the pen. He left the watch where it was. The Mozambique currency also disappeared into his jacket.
“Uh-oh!” Nozipho said.
“What?”
“They found us.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Security’s out there.”
“Where?”
“Come here!”
Nozipho dragged Thembinkosi to the window by the door. Through the curtains, they could see a massive man sitting on the hood of a small Central Alert car. He was talking on the phone. The silver from the silver-and-blue paint job almost blinded them as it reflected the sun. A logo on the car’s door showed a stylized figure in profile. The pistol it was holding in its two outstretched arms was almost as large as its body. Thembinkosi choked back a laugh.
“What is it?” Nozipho asked.
“Look at that idiot. Any township boxer could take him down. Even a flyweight. He can hardly move for all his muscles.”
“He doesn’t look all that bad.” Nozipho glanced up at Thembinkosi. “But what’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t think he’s here because of us?”
“He wouldn’t just be sitting there, talking on the phone right in front of us, if he were. Must be something else. A boy ran by a few minutes ago, somebody was chasing him. It must be about him. That guy will be gone in three minutes, tops. Then it’s high time we get out of here.”
“Are we going in somewhere else?”
“Absolutely not! I don’t like the feel around here. Let’s go home. Hopefully, the whites haven’t stolen our car.” He had to grin as he said that.
Nozipho shook her head. She thought Thembinkosi’s humor was out of line considering the situation.
17
The security guy was an idiot. Didn’t even take off his sunglasses. Bismarck assumed the other man was staring at his name tag. It was engraved with Bismarck van Vuuren. And then: The Pines, Caretaker. No blacks knew who Bismarck had been anyway.
“Well?” the guy asked.
“We almost had him.”
“There’s only one?”
“Mmhmm… Like a…” Bismarck fumbled for a word. “But he’s young. Twenty. And really fast. The fact he ran off is enough proof.”
The man in the sunglasses nodded. “What should we do?”
“We’re going to catch him.”
“Of course. Sooner or later. I’ll call for backup.”
“No need. Just wait at the gate. You can cut off his way out.”
Head-shaking. “Regulation. If anyone is on the run, I have to call for backup.”
“Hm!”
“Who is the other guy back there?” Sunglasses pointed at the next corner.
Bismarck looked back. “Ah… That’s Willie. A friend of mine. Helps out some.” He waved at Willie. Willie waved back.
“Does he also have one of those?” Sunglasses pointed at the taser.
“Just a club,” Bismarck said.
But he knew better. Willie normally had a knife and a small pistol on him. “We have to defend ourselves against them somehow,” he always said.
However, no one with Central Alert needed to know that his friend combined his free time with security patrols. Besides, they’d catch the black bastard before the backup got here.
“We’ll keep going,” Bismarck said.
“You know where to find me.” The guard pulled a handkerchief from his pants and rubbed it all over his bald head. He then picked up his phone again.
Bismarck signaled at Willie: You go along there, I’ll go here. They would meet up again at some point.
The young guy had simply vanished, but he wouldn’t get out. The backup from Central Alert would make sure of that, at least. And after Willie and he actually caught the black, he’d ask once again if he couldn’t hire his friend as his assistant. He needed help as it was. The times were getting worse.
“Bismarck!” a shout came from behind him.
A bakkie slowly pulled up. Rob van der Merwe was sitting by himself in the cab. As usual, his crew was sitting on the truck bed.
“Rob!” Bismarck greeted him back. The bakkie stopped beside him. “How long do you need?”
“An hour, maybe two. Are you coming on Saturday? The Boks game. In New Zealand.”
“Of course,” Bismarck said.
He watched the bakkie drive off. Five people were sitting on the back, four of them in overalls. One not. That was against the rules. He would have to say something to Rob, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know it already. Considering his experience.