An Ordinary Day

by Trevor Corbett

  ‘Damn. I really thought this would be easy.’

  ‘It’s all circumstantial. The call to Mr Shezi’s phone doesn’t prove anything, other than the fact that a call was made.’

  Heath took out a brown folder. He opened it and laid three documents on the car’s bonnet. ‘Elhasomi’s post-mortem,’ he said, pointing to the first document. ‘Makes for interesting reading.’

  Durant frowned and paged through the document, reading portions out loud. ‘“Chief post-mortem findings … focal abrasions on the body, deep scalp bruising on the occipital area. Separation of the lambdoid suture. Focal subarachnoid haemorrhage over left occipital pole. Pulmonary oedema and congestion. Cause of death: drowning.”’ Durant looked up at Heath, puzzled. ‘She was still alive when he threw her into the river?’

  Heath nodded. ‘The blow to her head didn’t kill her, only knocked her unconscious. The Umgeni River killed her.’

  Durant paged to the end of the report and read the pathologist’s comment.

  ‘“The deceased sustained a blunt impact to the head with separation of sutures of skull and subarachnoid haemorrhage of the brain. This induced a concussion which resulted in unconsciousness and drowning.”’ Durant sighed and shook his head. ‘Leila didn’t deserve to die like this, I don’t care what she’s done. We’ve got to find this guy.’

  Heath managed a half-smile. ‘We get to the next document.’ Heath passed Durant a piece of paper. ‘We may be closer to Salem than he thinks. I spent the whole day yesterday at various container depots trying to find one destined for Rafar Estates in Malta. There weren’t any, so I had to narrow it down by destination and then by refrigeration temperature. I eventually found one destined for another wine estate in Malta. The contents, wine for export. Interestingly, five hundred cases of wine – a relatively small consignment for a forty-foot container. All the duties were paid and when I traced the payments, they originated in Tel Aviv.’

  Durant looked puzzled. ‘You think it’s Salem’s consignment?’

  Heath smiled. ‘Wine’s a lot like a human being. It likes moderate temperatures; it needs air around it, it’s fragile. It can also change in mood and …’

  ‘Thanks, Brad, I get the picture. What’s your point?’

  ‘I think Salem is the consignment. I think he’s exporting himself to Malta along with the wine. The rest of the space in the container is living space.’

  Durant was silent for a moment and stared at Heath in disbelief. He looked at the folder, then into the distance, and then back at Heath. ‘Is it possible?’

  Heath nodded. ‘He’s got a couple of million dollars in cash on him. Anything’s possible. Some people have made shipping containers their permanent homes. What’s the difference if it’s at sea?’

  ‘I guess stowaways manage okay. And, as you said, with money, you could make it quite comfortable. Air purifiers, coffee machine. You think it could be what he’s done?’

  ‘It’s a good way of getting out the country if you’re a fugitive. He must know every border post’s being watched. The guy’s a professional.’

  Durant smiled and then laughed. ‘I said a while ago that if we find that container, we find Salem, but I didn’t mean it literally. Where’s the container now?’

  Heath pointed to the last sheet of paper. ‘It’s on that ship, the Eastern Challenger.’

  ‘Which is where?’

  ‘Leaves port today at 5 p.m.’

  Durant wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and then took his cellphone from his pocket. ‘We need to stop him.’

  ‘No worries, Kevin. The special task team’s on standby and as she sails we’ll hit the ship from all sides. He’ll have no place to go. You want to be there?’

  Durant looked at Heath incredulously. ‘No question. I want to ask him where Ali is.’

  15

  Baker looked around the CIA operations room at the us embassy and shook his head. ‘All this technology, and we still have to rely so heavily on human beings.’

  Scott’s face was drawn and the dark rings under his eyes testified to the type of evening he’d had the previous night. ‘Damn it, chief, I don’t know how Durant found him. It was just bad, bad luck.’

  Baker frowned and looked up over his glasses. ‘I don’t think luck had anything to do with it. It was perseverance. Durant was so determined to figure this thing out that he explored every possible avenue. Even an NOC can’t withstand that type of investigation. I got a call from HQ a few minutes ago – Vitoli made it to Germany safely.’

  ‘Any nasty dip notes hit your inbox yet, boss?’

  ‘The South Africans haven’t said anything to us, but I was at a meeting this morning with the NIA’s liaison people and they did look a little smug. Like they know that we know that they know. Hell, Paul, it’s just a game, but it’s a game with rules’.

  ‘Durant had no right to compromise our man.’

  ‘Durant didn’t compromise him. He simply asked him questions. We also gained some knowledge: we know Elhasomi wasn’t their informer; we know they’re also interested in Ali. We’re working on the same targets, that’s why I said it’s important to liaise. If we’d talked to the NIA when I said we should have, Vitoli might still be operational today.’

  ‘I still think we can crack this by ourselves.’

  ‘Paul, you don’t give up, do you? They’ve beaten us in a race which I never wanted to be in. I’ve given everything we have to the NIA for them to follow up.’

  ‘Chief, I don’t think that was …’

  Baker raised his voice. ‘Will you shut up and listen for once, Paul? They’ll handle it from here. We’ll help them where we can. I also believe that you’ve damaged the credibility of this Agency and caused me to question my own judgement. I know I’ve only been here a short time and this is your second term, but, to my shame, I listened to you and believed you knew what you were doing. Perhaps I misjudged you. Perhaps you are driven by your personal agenda rather than the interests of the Firm.’

  Scott moved some files aside on the conference table and then tried to meet Baker’s glare. He failed.

  ‘Mr Baker, I … I think you’ve misinterpreted my whole game plan. Sure, I took it personally sometimes, but I knew what I had to do.’

  Baker pointed to the CIA crest on the wall and read the words beneath it.

  ‘“And the truth shall make you free.” Don’t lose sight of what we stand for, Paul. The truth. The objective, untainted truth. You failed the Agency, you failed me and you failed yourself. You took your eye off the ball, you let down the team. I don’t need agents in my office who are self-centred, pompous and arrogant.’

  ‘I object to the implication that—’

  ‘It’s not an implication, Paul, it’s pretty explicit. In this job, you leave your ego in your car in the parking lot. You bring your professionalism into this office.’

  ‘I can honestly say—’

  ‘Let me finish. I’ve recommended to Langley that you be recalled with immediate effect so that we can get back to the business of the profession. Now get out of my office and go and be a diplomat.’

  The bow of the Eastern Challenger heaved to port and turned into the channel leading to the harbour mouth. It was five-thirty; a few minutes earlier, Durant and Heath had given a final briefing to Captain Nate Zondi, the commander of the SAPS special task force, which had assembled in an empty warehouse in the harbour, close to where the Eastern Challenger had been berthed. Zondi determined the safest option was to hit the ship once it left the quay, as this would diminish any chance of escape. The air force would provide a Squirrel helicopter, which would lower four task force members onto the top of the containers. The target container, below decks, was marked with invisible fluorescent paint by a SAPS member posing as a customs officer. It would be identified with a UV beam from the team leader’s torch and penetrated using a small explosive device. Durant, Heath, and other police officers would simultaneously board from the pilot boat on the port side and
scale the rope ladder to the deck where they would meet the task force members at the container and take Salem into custody. The plan was simple and Durant liked it.

  Masondo sat pensively at a table at one of the restaurants which overlooked the channel as the Eastern Challenger slowly approached and the pilot boat lined it up towards the harbour mouth. It was hard for Masondo to appear inconspicuous. His cellphone was pressed to his face and he spoke in short staccato bursts to Durant. Durant would have been happier if he’d had both hands available to climb the ladder to the ship. Real-time updates would be rather pointless if he lost his one-handed grip on the ladder and was crushed between the two vessels. The pilot boat shuddered and shook as it rode the swells. He would have felt more comfortable fast-roping down from the chopper. Small boats nudging big ones seemed quite everyday until you were on the small boat looking up at the big one. But the pilot-boat skipper obviously knew his stuff. He seemed at home in the wheel house, pipe in mouth, flicking the wheel over just as the Eastern Challenger would have pitched into the small boat and sent it to the bottom of the channel.

  A radio crackled into life and Heath gave the thumbs-up to Durant. ‘That’s the signal. They’re going in.’

  Beside Masondo was Ambassador Albirai. He too spoke into a cellphone, simultaneously waving his arms about as he tried to describe the scene to an unknown person who clearly also wanted a minute-by-minute update. Masondo pointed to the Squirrel helicopter as it descended towards the Eastern Challenger, the pilot expertly manoeuvring the machine between the ship’s masts into a sideways hover. Durant guessed the sound of the helicopter wouldn’t alert Salem; pilots were routinely winched up from the ships’ decks as they approached the breakwater. Four heavily armed policemen stood on the skis, two on each side. Masondo felt proud.

  Within seconds, the four figures appeared beneath the chopper on ropes and rappelled down, landing almost simultaneously on the foredeck, unshackling their ropes and then bolting for the hatches leading below decks. Albirai’s knuckle was in his mouth as the pilot boat lurched alongside the Eastern Challenger and another four men scrambled up the rope ladder onto the deck. Durant reached the top of the rope ladder as the rotor wash from the chopper seemed determined to blow him off into the churning waters below. The noise from the blades was deafening and Durant wondered why he’d volunteered for this mission: he was a clumsy, unfit intelligence officer nudging middle-age, not a Navy Seal.

  Durant saw a puff of smoke coming from the hatch accompanied by a sharp crack. A moment later, the silhouettes of two task force policemen appeared through the smoke, their weapons extended downwards. Masondo shouted from his cellphone ‘Durant! Update me!’

  Durant was still negotiating various ladders to reach the hatch which opened to the hold area. His eyes felt like someone had thrown pool acid into them. Nobody had offered him a gas mask and he hadn’t asked for one. He tried to talk into his cellphone, but his saliva glands were overproducing and all he could do was stand still with his arms out so the burning in his armpits would go away. He didn’t feel like a hero. He felt like an idiot, a drooling, weeping scarecrow, and his only comfort was that Heath seemed to be doing as badly as he was.

  ‘Durant, what’s happening?’ Masondo’s voice could barely be heard above the sound of the helicopter hovering overhead.

  ‘Almost there, chief. Stand by for a few seconds!’ Durant needed the seconds to reach the container and also to regain control over his salivary glands.

  Durant and Heath reached the door of the container less than thirty seconds later and were greeted by Zondi, dressed in camouflage and holding his gas mask in his hand. Durant desperately wanted that gas mask for himself, but he couldn’t ask because his vocal chords were still in spasm.

  ‘Where’s the suspect?’ Heath asked, and Durant was pleased to see him slur it out like a drunk.

  ‘No suspect, just boxes of export wine and some bags of labels.’

  Heath took two steps forward and peered into the container incredulously. The acrid smell drove him back quickly. ‘You sure?’

  The task force policeman nodded. ‘Sure. No suspect.’

  Heath muttered an expletive and brought his fist down hard against the container. Durant moved away to where the air was clearer and lifted his cellphone to his ear.

  Masondo leapt to his feet, shaking his head and said loudly into his cellphone. ‘Are you sure, Durant?’

  The helicopter banked away and the restaurant patrons started finding their seats again. Masondo turned to Albirai.

  ‘Excellency, it’s bad news, I’m afraid. The bird’s flown. I’m embarrassed to tell you that the man wasn’t in the container as our intelligence sources reported.’

  Albirai grunted and then turned his back on Masondo, the cellphone still clutched to his ear and the conversation now even more accelerated.

  At a table in the far corner of the restaurant where there were mostly families, the children threw bread to the birds and fish and Salem sat alone. He looked up through his dark glasses at Masondo as he walked past slowly and hesitated momentarily at his table. Salem pulled the peaked cap down lower over his face and said, ‘What’s all the commotion over there?’

  Masondo wiped his bald head with a handkerchief and shook his head. ‘Just some police business. Nothing to worry about. The show’s over.’ Masondo put his phone back to his ear and ran after Albirai who was already downstairs. Salem muttered after him, ‘And I missed it …’ He motioned to a waitress to bring his bill.

  The tear gas had dispersed enough for Durant to enter the container without a gas mask and he shone a small torch around the spacious interior. The beam lit up boxes on wooden pallets and about six canvas bags stacked towards the back. One of the bags was open and rolls of wine labels lay strewn on the floor. Durant kicked one of the other bags, knelt down and slipped his penknife into the canvas, cutting open a foot-long gash. He put his hand in and pulled out more labels. He put the torch down and quickly reached into his pocket for his ringing cellphone. Heath told him the pilot boat was leaving and if he didn’t leave with it, he’d be arrested for leaving the country illegally. Durant laughed and asked for five minutes’ indulgence.

  He slipped his knife into the second and third bags and pulled out more labels. The fourth bag seemed heavier than the others and when he put his hand in, he felt plastic sheeting and he opened up the hole by another thirty centimetres. He pushed his knife into the plastic sheeting in the bag and shone his torch into the hole. Durant fell backwards and his torch hit the metal floor. He put his hand in his pocket and fumbled for his cellphone. ‘Chief, it’s me. I’ve found Ali.’

  Durant gently stroked Stephanie’s hand as they sat on a bench under the shade of a plane tree at their favourite picnic spot. Alexis’s little face stared curiously out of the carry cot beside them, then her big brown eyes started slipping beneath tired lids.

  ‘Getting any better?’ Stephanie asked as Durant coughed violently.

  ‘Uh-uh. You know how bad I get when a cat comes near me. Try tossing a few tear gas canisters at me.’

  ‘Shame. My poor baby.’

  ‘I’ll get over it. Hey, we haven’t been here for a while.’ There was a comforting silence which enveloped the place like a dense mist.

  ‘I’ve really missed it. Life sort of got ahead of us and I think we forgot what’s important.’

  Durant gazed into the distance and sighed. ‘I wish I could lie and say that’s true, but there’re still things that matter. There’s a lunatic out there killing people and I can’t stop him.’ Durant looked at Stephanie and kissed her hand. ‘But that doesn’t matter to us right now. I’m just enjoying this moment.’

  Stephanie rubbed Durant’s forearm. ‘Forget about work when you’re not working. Enjoy this for what it is. Look at our little family, look at where we are, there’re no issues here, those issues are out there, separate, away from us.’

  ‘And at some stage soon, I’ll have to confront them again, but n
ot today. This is our day. A while ago, I never thought you’d get better, I thought this nightmare would be a part of our lives forever. But you seem fine now; we’ve got a lovely, normal girl and we’re starting to piece our lives together again.’

  ‘Sorry about all of this, sweetheart. I wish I could have been a normal wife and mother.’

  ‘You are a normal wife and mother. The situation’s maybe abnormal, but not us. People out there will never understand the kind of pressures we put on our wives and husbands. I think we have still done okay.’

  ‘How’s Thandi doing?’

  ‘Not good. The police are still not sure whether it was suicide or murder, but I don’t know if it matters to her. I’m pretty sure he was murdered. Everything points to it. He never would have killed himself.’

  ‘How can you know that? I was suicidal at one stage. Sometimes events and emotions can just totally overwhelm you and you stop thinking rationally.’

  ‘Well, we’ve got the police investigating it now. They’ll figure it out eventually. I’m almost too scared to know the truth. I’m not sure if it would be more comforting for Thandi to know that Mike was murdered than believing he killed himself. It’s a terrible situation. But at least her financial problems are over. His policies and benefits will pay out. Still, it’s cold comfort.’

  Durant turned around as he heard a shuffling of leaves behind him and saw Amina walking hesitantly towards them, her head bowed in embarrassment and her hands clutched together nervously.

  ‘I’m so sorry to disturb you. I tried your phone, but it’s off and I remembered you told me about this place where you come to relax. If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t be here.’

  Durant felt Stephanie grip his arm.

  Amina hugged herself uncomfortably and thought this was one of the hardest things she ever had to do. She silently cursed Masondo for sending her.

  ‘Something’s happened at the office, and Masondo wants you there now.’