An Ordinary Day

by Trevor Corbett

  ‘I want to give Kevin more attention, but between his work and the situation at home, it seems impossible. I see so little of him, and during those times we argue. He is spending far more time with Alexis than with me.’

  ‘Maybe Alexis is listening to him more. When Kevin gets home, he wants to relax and talk about his day at work, his frustrations, his successes, his …’

  ‘He doesn’t talk about work – he can’t.’

  ‘Maybe he thinks you’re not interested. Maybe you should listen more. Don’t talk about the problems at home and how badly you’re coping. There’s not much he can do about that.’

  ‘He only comes home because of Alexis. I feel sorry for him that he has to put up with so much. He’s under a lot of pressure at work too. You would know.’

  ‘I wonder sometimes why he puts so much effort into it. He’s got a stunning wife. If I were him I’d be late for work every morning. I’d dream of you all day and skip robots to be home when you come home.’

  Stephanie managed a smile, her first for a while. ‘You say the nicest things, Richard. I always thought you were pompous and a bit self-centred.’

  ‘Maybe I am sometimes. A lot of people don’t understand me. My ex-wife never understood me, and I never understood her. We couldn’t communicate without fighting. You seem so in control and so calm.’

  ‘I wish I was always like this. When I’m with you, I—’ The words faded because she knew they were words of betrayal, and they weren’t fair on Kevin.

  ‘You need to get away – just the three of you – and forget about home and work and just enjoy your time as a family.’

  ‘I’ve asked – no, begged – Kevin to take some leave. But they just won’t give it to him. I’ve even phoned Mr Masondo. He says they’re relying heavily on Kevin at the moment. I said, “Well, so am I. Don’t I get a turn?”’

  ‘Stephanie. Don’t make the mistake I made. Don’t leave it too long. You two need to sit down and talk.’

  ‘I know. I will when I’m ready. Right now, I still don’t know what to say that will fix everything.’

  ‘Take small steps. Talk about how much you need one another and how you can’t live without each other.’

  Stephanie moved under the umbrella and a shadow fell over her face. ‘The trouble is we are living without each other.’

  King put his hand on hers and she made no effort to resist.

  The operational room at NIA’s provincial office was hot and stifling, not only because the building’s air conditioning was not functional again, but also because of the large amount of cerebral exhaust being emitted by the small gathering of operational staff. Twenty-four hours of monitoring the suburban townhouse had yielded operational information that usually took months to glean. Amina was brisling with excitement, her presentation skills somewhat handicapped by her exuberance, which made her sound like a schoolgirl rushing through an oral presentation to get it over with as quickly as possible. Notwithstanding this, the audience, including a happy-looking Durant and a smiling Shezi, had her full attention.

  ‘Leila Elhasomi met this guy Ben Salem at a diplomatic function hosted by the Canadian embassy in Valletta, Malta, about six months ago. He is, I think, in the shipping industry, an importer of wines. There was some talk of shipments and dockworkers striking and a few other things I didn’t quite catch. I’m not sure of his nationality; he speaks a bit of Arabic, but with quite an unusual accent. He speaks English well: they ordered pizzas from a local pizza shop last night. Salem has been to South Africa before, to the Cape, and this time it seems it was a last-minute arrangement that he should come with Elhasomi. I’m not sure what his connections to Libya are; it sounds like he’s never been there.’

  ‘Do they get on?’ Durant asked.

  ‘Elhasomi is clearly besotted by him, and I can see why. He’s a hunk, even in black and white on a 17-inch monitor. And he’s, well, charming. She doesn’t seem like a particularly religious Muslim; she spoke of one day going on Hajj and how it would be the turning point in her life. He doesn’t appear to be religious at all.’

  ‘Why are they here?’ It was a defining question. ‘How do we pull this thing together so it makes sense?’

  ‘Well, she’s telling him she’s in South Africa for follow-up work in the tourism industry and there was some talk about them each going about their own business while in Durban. She told him she’s got some meetings to attend and suggested they meet back in the evenings. They clearly have a … relationship of a sexual nature. Any questions?’

  Durant had one. ‘Why did Elhasomi bring this guy with her to South Africa? Is he the boyfriend, or a colleague of some sort?’

  Amina needed water, and Durant used the opportunity to expand his question.

  ‘If Uptown Girl is here on official business for the Libyan government, as we suspect she is, is her travelling companion sanctioned by them, or did she unofficially invite him along for companionship because he’s the boyfriend? I’m trying to establish if Salem is someone we should be worried about, or is he just a passenger and should we focus all our energy on Elhasomi. Maybe he doesn’t know anything about what she’s here for: meeting Ali and all of that. Get what I’m saying?’

  ‘Sorry, yes, I know what you mean. Unfortunately, it’s still a little early to draw any conclusions. The fact that she didn’t once talk about work issues to him indicates to me that he’s not part of what she’s here for. She hasn’t mentioned Ali at all. When she talks about work, it’s all about tourism.’

  ‘Has he asked about Ali?’ Durant asked.

  ‘No. He hasn’t mentioned Ali at all. Maybe he has his own business interests here and they simply came down at the same time and are staying together.’

  Durant nodded. ‘Yes. It seems unlikely that Libyan operatives would work in teams that actually sleep with each other.’

  ‘The surveillance unit should tell us more this morning as they go their separate ways,’ Amina said. ‘I’m very interested to see if she’ll meet Ali.’

  ‘Ja, my concern is that if we split the surveillance team into two, we halve our chances of success. Is it necessary for them to follow Salem at this stage, or do we focus everything on Elhasomi and hope that she meets with Ali?’

  Masondo’s baritone voice was authoritative and although he spoke softly, the room still seemed to reverberate with its authority.

  ‘Focus on the woman. We’re looking at her because of her connection to Ali. We mustn’t lose sight of the original goal, colleagues, which is to neutralise Ali. We can’t keep expanding the operation as more personalities enter the picture.’

  ‘Chief, I feel Elhasomi’s a viable primary target,’ Durant said.

  ‘Granted, but we still need to prioritise. If Ali is, in fact, our primary target, then those closest to him become secondary targets. This Salem guy seems a bit too far removed.’ Masondo stood. ‘Amina, whatever you pick up on him in the house, you can report if it’s relevant. Shezi, you can follow up any investigations, do some background checks on him. The surveillance team’s overtaxed and expensive to run. We need them to focus on the target, and at this stage the target is Ali. We suspect this woman will meet Ali, so we’ll monitor her with that in mind.’

  ‘The chief’s right,’ Durant said. ‘Ali is the target. This woman has diplomatic immunity anyway; Ali has no such privilege or protection.’

  Shezi raised his hand, and then rubbed his chin. ‘If Salem isn’t involved, then why don’t we approach him?’

  Durant nodded slowly, thoughtfully. ‘He’s close to Elhasomi. Try to recruit him and see if he can elicit intel from her.’

  Amina smiled. ‘I like the way you guys think. I’ll handle him.’

  ‘The thing is, he’s a foreigner, it’s very dangerous ground,’ Durant said. ‘If the recruitment goes belly-up, Elhasomi will bolt, and we may also have a diplomatic mess on our hands.’

  Masondo agreed. ‘And we don’t have the luxury of time to do a proper profile of him. It’s a bi
t shaky. Rather leave it and let’s use the tools we have.’

  Durant stood up, walked to the front of the room and stood beside Amina. ‘By next week, Ali must be sitting in a prison cell, cursing the day he ever thought crime actually paid. His assets must be on a flatbed truck on their way to a warehouse. His operations must be shutting down all over the world. His associates must be pointing fingers at each other and accusing each other of betraying him. And we must be relaxing at home again with our families, because we owe it to them. We’ve made lots of sacrifices to make this operation succeed. Those sacrifices need to be worthwhile.’

  As he said these words, Durant wondered to himself if the sacrifices he’d made could ever be worthwhile. He was also a victim of Ali, robbed of everything he held dear.

  Danny Baker was a worried man. He stared at the floor of his office while Paul Scott read through a report that had arrived from CIA headquarters in Virginia a few minutes earlier. Scott looked perplexed.

  ‘This can’t be true.’

  Baker stood up and walked around his desk to a small side table where he poured himself a cup of coffee.

  ‘The report’s from the nsa. They say the phone lines never lie.’

  ‘This is unbelievable.’

  ‘They intercepted a mobile phone call from Elhasomi in Durban.’ Baker pointed to the report. ‘If they say Elhasomi’s in Durban, then she’s here.’

  ‘Why don’t we know about it? She’s here to meet Ali. Vitoli hasn’t heard a whisper from Ali.’

  ‘This worries me, Paul. Are you sure Ali isn’t screwing with us?’

  ‘Maybe she hasn’t made contact with him yet and he isn’t aware she’s here. Maybe she’s sorting out the financial arrangements and won’t meet with him personally. Maybe … I’ll personally kill him if he’s screwing with us.’

  Baker shook his head and sipped his coffee. ‘Relax, Paul. Don’t assume the worst. Is Joe still getting a daily sign of life from Ali?’

  ‘Yeah, up till last night, the calls come in every day.’

  ‘So we still have a communication channel with Ali. Perhaps Joe should just ask him.’

  ‘Boss, we’ll compromise our interception capability. Ali will figure out how we know she’s in Durban.’

  ‘No, Paul, use your operational imagination. Joe can say she was picked up at the airport in Durban and according to customs records, she’s here.’

  ‘Do we trust Ali enough to let him know that much?’

  ‘Paul, we don’t trust Ali at all, that’s a given. But we can’t afford to lose the initiative now that the operation’s coming together. We need to identify where Elhasomi’s staying and try to identify her contacts. We’ll need to talk to the local boys. Time to take it down the hall.’

  ‘Boss, before we expose our whole operation to the South Africans, let’s give Ali until the end of today and see if he makes contact. I can also get technical to triangulate the mobile signal so we can localise the area Elhasomi’s in. I’ll personally go to Durban and investigate.’

  ‘Haven’t I indulged you enough?’

  ‘I’ve got a network of contacts down there. Sarge Cox is a Metro cop I’ve promised the world to. He’ll find her.’

  ‘I’ll give you twenty-four hours, Paul, and then I’m liaising this with NIA.’

  Shezi parked his car at the far corner of a parking garage in the city centre, wound down his window and waited. It was late afternoon and the heat was almost unbearable. He loosened his tie, and then, as his cellphone rang, quickly reached for it and switched it off. He heard a car engine and turned around to see a black Mercedes pull into the parking area next to him. The passenger window of the Mercedes rolled down and Shezi saw Ali sitting there, staring straight ahead. The driver climbed out, a thick-set bear of a man with a shaven head and eyes devoid of any emotion. Shezi recognised this man as Mojo, Ali’s lieutenant. He came around to Shezi’s door, opened it, and pulled Shezi out. The green Africa key ring Shezi held in his hand dropped onto the concrete floor as Mojo quickly frisked Shezi down before pushing him back into the car. Mojo picked up the key ring, put it in his pocket and took two paces back, where he stood with folded arms.

  ‘Talk to me, Mr Shezi, I’m a busy man,’ Ali said briskly.

  Shezi loosened his tie some more and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘It’s, well, it’s something you should know. Yesterday, no, the day before, Tuesday, yes, Tuesday, we bugged Elhasomi’s flat. We’re listening to everything. She’s with a guy called Ben Salem. They’re together. Do you know who he is?’

  Ali remained silent for a moment and then frowned. ‘Are you asking me? You’re the intelligence man.’

  ‘I thought you might be expecting him. We’ve established Salem has a wine-importing business in Malta and we think the two of them are in it together. The investigation is focusing on these two.’

  ‘What are they saying about me?’

  Shezi shook his head quickly. ‘Nothing much, sir. It seems the focus is off you for now.’

  ‘I want you to keep it that way. And I want you to slow down the investigation into the Libyans. I still need to make money from that deal, you understand?’

  Shezi nodded. ‘They’re convinced you’re moving some illegal cargo for the Libyans – possibly nuclear material – and Elhasomi is here to facilitate the sale.’

  ‘Go on.’ Ali lit a cigarette, and still stared straight ahead through the windscreen.

  ‘Well, they’re trying to identify who the local Libyans are and where the money is. They also set Elhasomi up last time she was here, and that’s how they know where she’s staying. They’re focusing everything on her and her boyfriend.’

  ‘Mike, I’m going to help you, because I need you.’ Ali turned to look at Shezi. ‘My organisation is made up of loyal and dedicated people like you, people who help my business succeed. I appreciate your work for me. I really hope your agency is looking after you.’

  ‘Some people there look after me.’

  ‘You should be in charge there. Are you the big chief?’

  ‘No, they … they just, they don’t appreciate what I do. Except maybe one person.’

  Ali nodded. ‘A white guy, right? He appreciates you because it makes him look and feel good. Meanwhile, he hates your guts and gets impatient with you because he thinks you’re dumb and slow and incompetent, right?’

  ‘No, I really think …’

  ‘You’re just a pawn there, Mike. You’ll never go anywhere. The elites there will look after each other. If you’re not in the circle, you’ll never get the power you deserve. And you won’t get into the circle unless you’re connected. But I’ll let you into another circle … my circle. It’s better, more rewarding.’

  Ali turned and looked at Shezi. ‘I can see you take me seriously, and I take you seriously. I don’t make promises which I can’t keep. That’s why I’m so wealthy. You profiled me, so you know I started as a shipping clerk. I used to stamp documents and the larneys said if I worked too slowly and the containers were delayed, they lost thousands of dollars.’ Ali smiled and Shezi looked away. ‘I didn’t want to stay a shipping clerk after that. I wanted to be the larney who worried about his containers being delayed. I did something about my situation. If I’d waited for the company to promote me, I’d still be stamping bills of lading today.’

  ‘Yes, I wrote all that in your profile. I admired your vision.’

  ‘Now. Do your colleagues trust you?’ Ali asked.

  ‘We’re like a family.’ As Shezi said it, he felt a wave of nausea sweep over him. ‘Of course they trust me.’

  ‘You have a new family now. I hope you’re a good liar.’

  ‘They train us well.’

  ‘You’re master of your own destiny, Shezi. With wealth comes power, and it’s the best feeling in the world. I don’t have stress. I don’t have to beg the banks to lend me money any more. The banks offer me holidays to move some of my accounts over to them. How much money do you have in your pocket right no
w?’

  ‘A few rand.’

  Ali took out his wallet and unfolded a wad of R200 notes.

  ‘Information is a valuable commodity; it’s the commodity of the twenty-first century. Business intelligence is the career you’re in now. Consider it a privilege.’

  ‘Thanks, I just …’

  ‘You’re privileged to be allowed in. Think of yourself as a security consultant of mine. And this as your first salary.’

  Ali tossed the wad of bills into Shezi’s lap.

  ‘Don’t disappoint me.’

  7

  Durant’s house felt cold when he walked in, despite it being a typically humid summer’s day. It was a week before Christmas, and the bright decorations usually provided comforting warmth. He’d looked forward to his first Christmas with the baby, to family time, a time to reflect on the past year, but he hadn’t even taken the Christmas tree out of the box in the garden shed and the coloured lights still lay in a plastic bag in the linen cupboard. He blamed himself for the missing warmth, for allowing so many other, less important things to take precedence.

  Durant expected to find Stephanie asleep on the couch, as he usually did, but she wasn’t. He was momentarily puzzled, and then astonished as the front door opened and Stephanie stood in the light of the doorway, the late-afternoon sun distinctly silhouetting her shape and that of the pram, in which Alexis gurgled contently.

  ‘Hello,’ she said cheerfully.

  ‘Am I seeing things, or have you just taken Alex for a walk?’

  ‘I had to get out the house, I’m dying in there. I had breakfast out this morning then went shopping and now we went for a walk around the neighbourhood. It was great.’

  ‘How do you feel?’ Durant asked, lifting Alexis out of the pram and cuddling her to his chest.

  ‘Surprisingly enough, I feel great.’

  ‘You had breakfast by yourself?’

  Stephanie fumbled with the nappy bag and a wad of nappies fell to the floor. ‘Sorry?’