An Ordinary Day

by Trevor Corbett

  ‘Let me get that. You should’ve called me. I would’ve met you this morning. It’s no fun having breakfast alone.’

  ‘Next time I’ll definitely invite you.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘For breakfast? I went to the Park Restaurant. I know you don’t really like it there.’

  ‘Amina also went there this morning to wrap up a lead on an old case we’re closing. Did you see her?’

  Stephanie felt cold. ‘Um, no, didn’t see her. Did she see me?’

  ‘Didn’t say. Well glad you had a good day. I had quite a successful day as well. We’re close to nailing a lady who’s up to no good in our country.’

  Stephanie was surprised by her husband’s unwonted willingness to talk about his work. ‘Kevin,’ she said, half amused, ‘you really don’t have to tell me about your day. Just tell me when you’ll work late so I don’t worry.’

  ‘I’d like you to know what I’m doing at work, Steph. I’m dealing with big issues and I want to share some of them with you. I’ve got nobody else to share them with.’

  Stephanie smiled. ‘Big issues at work and big issues at home. I feel sorry for you.’

  Durant took Stephanie’s hand and squeezed it gently. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me. I can deal with big issues.’

  ‘You liar. You don’t even know how to deal with me.’

  ‘You know, I spoke earlier today about sacrifices. I told my team that we’re all making incredible sacrifices to make this operation work, and it’s working. But no sacrifice is too big for you. I want you to be happy.’

  Stephanie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘But I am happy. I’m just confused, that’s all. I don’t know what I want.’

  Durant closed the front door. ‘Let’s talk for a change.’

  Anja expected Elhasomi to have an accident any moment. Her small hired car was not designed to be driven so fast, so recklessly, with such utter disregard for any generally accepted driving courtesy. At first, Anja radioed to the surveillance team following closely behind that Uptown Girl was tail-wise, and was engaging in active counter-surveillance driving. But after a while, Anja realised that this was no counter-surveillance; it was simply terrible driving. At one stage, Elhasomi turned a corner too soon and actually mounted the pavement, sending a destitute man scurrying for the safety of a wall. When Anja came past the scene, the homeless man was walking briskly away from the street corner, board under his arm, clearly deterred by the hazards of his roadside occupation. Anja pulled back from the a position to let the vehicle behind her overtake and assume that primary spot closest to the target vehicle.

  Anja used the opportunity to calm herself down and allow her own overworked vehicle to recover from the rigours of the surveillance. She made a quick call to Durant to indicate that the target was mobile and heading in a southerly direction towards an industrial area close to the airport. The vehicle in the a position radioed that Elhasomi had stopped outside an old building which looked abandoned. Anja approached from a parallel street and brought her car to a halt. The other watchers took up positions around the building. Anja walked to a small tearoom across the road and entered.

  The woman behind the counter was bent over, her abaya embracing her like a shroud. She looked at Anja through the opening of her purdah. Her eyes were tired but gentle.

  ‘Good afternoon, madam,’ Anja said.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I’m a consultant for the Roads Ministry. My name’s Lara van der Merwe.’

  The shopkeeper’s eyes smiled. ‘I am Mrs Mariam Meer. This is my shop, it’s all I have in the world, I’ve been here for twenty years. I’m starting to get tired now, standing for twenty years.’

  ‘Is the shop busy?’

  ‘Not any more, dear. Too many shebeens around here and the wages are low. My prices are good. You should try some of my chicken biryani today, it’s not too hot.’

  ‘Thanks. Have you heard of the plan to build a freeway to the airport?’

  Mrs Meer shovelled a generous portion of biryani into a plastic container and wrapped it in plastic wrap. Looking at the size of the portion it was surprising she’d been in business for twenty years.

  ‘Just rumours, dear. Ten years people have been talking about new freeways coming through this area. I don’t pay attention. They’ll have to build the road through my shop, I’m not moving. I tried to sell once, after the attack, but this shop’s my life.’

  ‘The attack?’

  ‘They were boys, just boys, but the hatred, you could see it in their eyes. They beat me. Took the cash from my till. I lost over two hundred rand.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that, madam. Any buildings which are appropriated for destruction would be valued and the owners paid out.’

  There was a little pause and then Mrs Meer said: ‘I’ve got nothing else to do. Where would I go?’

  ‘The prices would be market-related, but actually, it’s the area a little over that way which would be more affected,’ she pointed out the window. ‘There, where that big warehouse is.’

  ‘That factory gives me some business, but I don’t like the people.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Foreigners. They want to buy a few packets of cigarettes and pay in dollar bills. I’m not a foreign exchange place. No, I don’t like them.’

  ‘Foreigners from where?’

  ‘I’m sure it’s Libya. They’re Muslims, but not like they should be. I run a clean business and Allah’s blessed me.’

  ‘How do you know they’re Libyans?’

  Mrs Meer lowered her voice. ‘They say Gaddafi owns the building. He was here.’

  ‘Who, Gaddafi?’ Anja asked incredulously.

  ‘Gaddafi. A few months ago – lots of people in suits, fancy cars, everybody running around. I see a lot from my little shop, you know. I’m eighty-three; I know when something’s not right.’

  ‘What type of business is it?’

  ‘They say it’s a storage place. I don’t know what they’re storing. There are about ten people working there. They never talk about what they do. I don’t ask. I mind my own business, you know. I don’t poke my nose into others’ affairs.’

  Anja nodded. ‘Well, I’ll certainly let you know once the plans for this new highway are approved, and then perhaps you’ll be able to leave this terrible area. I’m sure it’s not safe for a person such as yourself.’

  ‘I’ve been robbed twelve times over the past five years. Twelve times. And two months ago, in front of people from that place.’ She thrust her finger accusingly in the direction of the target building. ‘And they didn’t come and help me. They just stood and watched while they kicked me on the ground.’

  ‘That’s terrible.’

  ‘And they have guns.’

  ‘The robbers?’

  ‘No, the people from that factory. Big guns, machine guns, I’ve seen them carry them under their jackets. And they just stood by and watched while those youngsters walked away with my money.’

  ‘Machine guns? Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure there will be more attacks and one day they’ll probably kill me.’

  ‘Mrs Meer, I’ve got a friend in the security industry. She owes me a favour so I’m going to send her to you. She can advise you on how to protect yourself better here.’

  Mrs Meer leaned forward and took Anja’s hand. ‘Thank you, child.’

  ‘And perhaps you can also talk to her about that building across the way where the foreigners are.’

  ‘Allah be merciful to you, you’re a good white lady. You are so kind …’

  Anja smiled and walked towards the door. ‘I’ll have my friend drop by later to see you.’

  ‘As Salaam, child, as Salaam!’

  As Anja exited the shop, contemplating when last she’d been called ‘child’, she flipped open her cellphone and dialled a number. ‘Hi, Amina, it’s me. I need a big favour …’

  Durant looked at Amina as she terminated the call. The mobile monitoring van wa
s unbearably hot and Durant had taken Amina across the road for a juice while Shezi monitored the townhouse.

  ‘That was Anja,’ she said. ‘Uptown Girl went into a building in Prospecton, near the airport. Anja apparently got talking to a shop owner across the street who said that the building’s owned by the Libyans. She said Gaddafi himself was there last year. Anja told the shopkeeper someone would be coming to talk to her about securing her personal safety – she’s apparently been robbed a few times and once in front of the occupants of the Libyan building – so she’s bitter towards them. She offered my services.’

  Durant frowned. ‘Why you?’

  Amina smiled. ‘Because she’s an old Muslim lady and I guess she’ll talk to me more than she’ll talk to you.’

  Durant wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and nodded. ‘Good initiative on Anja’s part.’ Durant looked at his flashing cellphone. ‘This is her calling me now.’

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Kevin, I phoned Amina—’

  ‘I know. She’s with me. She told me. It’s fine. Good work, well done.’

  ‘Okay, thanks. The target’s exited the building. Two guys with her. Chatting by the car. She’s making a call on her cellphone. Looks like they may be disputing something – lots of hand movements. One of the other guys is now making a call. One of the guys has gone back into the building. Uptown Girl and the other guy are looking around … opening a car boot. Other guy is coming out carrying a big brown suitcase. Putting it in the boot. Looks pretty heavy … Both guys gone back in, Uptown Girl still outside … She’s on the phone again … Okay, other guys out the building again, two more suitcases, loading them in the boot of target’s car. Uptown Girl’s still on the phone. Getting into her car …’

  Durant motioned to Amina and whispered. ‘Tell Mike she may be coming home. I’ll be there now.’

  Anja went on. ‘Okay, Uptown Girl is mobile. Direction of travel north towards the city, gotta go, bye.’

  Durant paid the bill and ran across the road to the monitoring vehicle. ‘Did we miss anything?’ he asked Shezi, who was struggling in the heat.

  ‘Salem is still at home. Hasn’t been out yet. He made some calls on his cellphone, but he’s got this annoying habit of walking out onto the balcony when he makes them, so we can’t pick up anything. Otherwise, the townhouse is quiet. Can I be excused? A man’s gotta eat, you know.’

  While Shezi went to refuel himself at the restaurant, Durant and Amina quickly looked through the operational notes from the previous evening.

  ‘Did Elhasomi talk to anybody about a meeting at that factory in Prospecton? Did you ever pick up anything?’

  Amina shook her head slowly. ‘I’m sure she didn’t. It’s weird. She doesn’t talk business in front of him and he doesn’t talk business in front of her. It’s like they’re both trying to hide something from each other.’

  ‘We need to start making sense of this thing. Any mention of suitcases? She’s got three big suitcases in the back of the hired car.’

  ‘No mention of suitcases. Maybe she’ll bring them here and open them.’

  ‘This is what I’m hoping. Or we can get the Metro Police to stop her for reckless driving and search the car.’

  ‘She’s got diplomatic immunity.’

  ‘Damn it. What are we missing? This woman’s up to something. Money, drugs? It can’t be a nuclear bomb, can it?’

  ‘Hope not,’ Amina smiled. ‘Look at the way she drives!’

  ‘Maybe she’ll meet Ali at the townhouse, and right under camera two say something like, “Here’s the money for the nuclear triggers we bought from you.” And then we burst in, have him arrested, deport her, recover the money and triggers, all go home and sleep for about three days.’

  Durant dialled Anja’s number and asked her for their location. He spoke for a moment and put the phone on the table.

  ‘She’s headed this way on the freeway. But with lover boy at home, I don’t know if she’ll even take the cases out the car boot.’

  ‘If she does, he’s with her. If not, then I think he’s in for a few shocks.’

  Durant stepped outside the monitoring van for a moment to see if he could see Shezi across the road at the restaurant. Tyres screeched as a blue Toyota hurtled through the traffic lights at the intersection, swerved to avoid an approaching minibus taxi, mounted the pavement, and collided with a street pole with a deafening bang, bending it forward at a 45-degree angle. There was absolute silence after the impact for perhaps two seconds, and then the streetlight fitting fell to the pavement and exploded into pieces. The bonnet of the car was pushed up and bent; water and oil ran along the gutter and disappeared down a drain.

  Durant ran towards the wrecked vehicle without thinking. He was conscious of his cellphone ringing in his pocket, but ignored it. Amina remained in the monitoring van and took a call from Anja indicating that Elhasomi’s vehicle had been involved in a traffic accident. By the time Amina climbed out of the monitoring van, she noticed Durant was already at the smashed vehicle.

  Elhasomi lifted her hand, noticed it was shaking, and pulled a piece of crumpled glass from her forehead. She looked at the blue glass with its beautiful angles reflecting the light and it reminded her of a cheap gemstone she’d once had as a five-year-old girl which she’d played with for months, pretending it was a jewel from the Shah’s crown. What happened to that gemstone? Perhaps it still lay in the small box at her mother’s house, which she promised to fetch so many times, but never got around to fetching. She tried to sit forward, but something seemed to be pulling her back. There was a voice, a man’s voice, gentle, reassuring. It seemed far away. Her hair felt a mess. She shook her head and a shower of small glass particles flew off, some catching the sunlight and sparkling like crystal in the afternoon sun.

  ‘Hey, lie still for a minute, please. You’ve been in an accident.’ The voice was louder now. She looked right and into the eyes of a stranger, a handsome man with blue eyes which reflected passion and purpose.

  Durant only realised the driver was Elhasomi when he pulled open the door and looked into a familiar face. Although he had only seen her image on a small black-and-white screen, her beautiful Middle-Eastern features were immediately recognisable. He felt an instinctive compassion towards the woman. It was a reaction he’d last felt on the battlefield of Angola.

  ‘I’m Kevin, I’m a medic, I’m here to help you. What’s your name?’

  ‘Leila,’ she said, shivering from shock and with a small trickle of blood running into her right eye. ‘I am alright, what happened?’

  ‘You hit a pole and we need to make sure you’re okay.’

  Elhasomi released her seatbelt and tried to climb out of the car.

  Durant put his hand on her forearm and her skin felt cold and moist. She looked into his eyes. There was fear and desperation there, and Durant felt pity for her.

  ‘It’s best you don’t move until we’re sure you haven’t injured yourself. Does it hurt anywhere?’

  ‘I am okay. Please, I must get out.’

  ‘Leila, you may need medical attention.’

  ‘I am staying just here in the next street. I must phone my friend, please, I have some suitcases in the back …’

  ‘Don’t worry. Does your neck hurt?’ Durant asked, trying in vain to stop her from climbing out of the vehicle, not because he was desperately hoping Amina would use the time to take the cases from the boot, but because he really feared she may have injured her neck.

  ‘I am fine. Thank you for your trouble.’ She walked to the back of the car with one hand on the roof to steady herself. ‘I will phone my boyfriend. He is at home and I will phone the car hire place. It is a hired car, not to worry.’

  This was an opportunity from espionage heaven – he was face to face with his adversary in an absolutely uncontrived situation.

  ‘Want me to give you a lift? We can load your baggage into my car.’

  Elhasomi shook her head quickly. She was speaking quie
tly into her cellphone as a small crowd started gathering around the accident scene. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance and Durant knew he didn’t have long before he had to disappear. His mind raced as he tried to select a strategy. Should he offer her a car fitted with a tracking device? Should he distract her while Shezi tried to open one of the suitcases in the back of the crumbled car? Where was Shezi? Where was Amina? In a few seconds, this opportunity would be lost forever.

  ‘Leila,’ Durant said loudly, catching her attention. He then lowered his voice and said sternly ‘The police will investigate you for reckless driving because you went through a red light; you may need advice. Here’s a get-out-of-trouble-free card.’ He slipped her a small business card with his cell number typed onto it which he always kept in his wallet. When he designed the cards, a few months previously, he never expected to actually present one to somebody, especially not a prime target. Elhasomi hesitated for a moment, looked down at the card, and then took it, quickly slipping it into her purse.

  ‘Thank you. You are a good man.’

  Seconds later, a car screeched to a stop next to the accident scene, and a man Durant recognised as Salem leapt out and embraced Elhasomi, asking her if she was alright. She immediately whispered something to him and he nodded and opened the boot of the smashed vehicle. The sirens were dangerously close now and Durant knew that if the police arrived before Salem finished transferring the suitcases from the wreck into his car, they’d become suspicious. It was time for him to go. He stepped back into the small group of onlookers which had gathered on the pavement, waited a few seconds, then turned and walked away up the road.

  He couldn’t return to the monitoring van immediately; it was too close to the accident scene, and so he walked into a bookshop a little way up the road. The sirens and commotion on the street had emptied the shop and even the assistant was standing outside. Durant phoned Amina and whispered into the phone. ‘I’ll only be able to join you in a little while. Stay put inside the van – and tell Mike not to go in and out until the street is clear outside. Can you see what’s happening through the window?’ The monitoring van had small peepholes on the sides, made to look like rivets which had been painted over with signage which read ‘Medical Waste Services’. This always kept people far away.