I went to the snooker saloon and spoke to the owner, Manny Soldatos.
“I need to borrow some money.” I said. “I’m too young to get a loan from the bank. Do you know of a money lender that I can go to?”
"There are several in the area.” Manny said. “But are you sure that you want to use one? These guys charge ridiculously high interest and if you don’t pay the instalments on time they send their thugs to get the money and hurt you at the same time. If you do borrow money from them, are you sure that you can pay it back with the interest? If you have any doubts about being able to pay back the money on time, don’t borrow it. You’re young and these guys can easily cripple you for life.”
“I’ll be able to pay the money back.” I said.
“Okay.” Manny said. “But don’t say that I didn’t warn you. The man you should go to is Rocky Bogdanovic. He’s a Yugoslavian and his office is in Main Street. It’s right next to the nursing home. A small shop with “LOANS” on the window. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.” I said and turned to leave.
“By the way.” Manny said. “That guy Bruce that you beat up is still in a coma in hospital. Did you know that?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“That’s what happens to people who attack me.” I said.
***
Rocky Bogdanovic reminded me of a fish. He was completely bald. In fact, he didn’t even have eyebrows. His pale yellowish skin was stretched tightly across his face, giving it a strange sheen, as if it was wet. Two deep wrinkles ran from the corners of his mouth straight down on either side of his chin and disappeared under his jaw line. His expressionless pale blue eyes bulged out of his face and his tiny nose was flat and red. His thick blubbery lips were pink and moist and his tiny ears stuck out from the sides of his head like little handles.
Anticipating that he would question me closely about the reason that I wanted the loan and how sure I was that I could repay it, I had come prepared.
“Why did you come to me?” he asked. “Why didn’t you go to the banks?”
“I’m an orphan and I’m still a minor.” I said.
“How old are you?”
“I’m seventeen.” I said.
“How much do you want to borrow?”
“Ten thousand Rand.” I replied.
“That’s a lot of money for a youngster like you to want.” Rocky said. “What are you going to do with it?”
“I want to start my own business.” I said.
“Doing what?”
“I can get hold of a large consignment of office copy paper at a really low price.” I lied. “I’ll sell it door-to-door to businesses at a good profit.”
The expressionless fish eyes bored into me.
“Where are you going to keep this paper?”
“In the garage at my house.” I said.
“Your house?” Rocky asked. “I thought you were an orphan.”
“I am.” I said. “I inherited the house from my aunt.”
“And I suppose you want to use the house as surety.” Rocky said.
I nodded.
“I’m not interested in that type of surety.” Rocky said. “Takes too long to liquidate. What about the furniture?”
“The furniture’s old but in good condition.” I said.
“Okay.” Rocky said. “I’ll send someone to your house to value the furniture. If its value exceeds the loan and the interest then we’ll do a deal.”
“What’s the interest rate?” I asked.
“Ten percent of the outstanding amount per week.” Rocky said. “And the repayments are one thousand Rand a week plus the interest. Take it or leave it.”
I gave Rocky my home address and left.
When I got home I calculated that the loan of ten thousand Rand would cost me five thousand five hundred Rand in interest and had to be paid back over a period of ten weeks. It was outright theft but I had no option but to accept. As long as the horse that I chose won I would easily be able to pay back the loan and if I took the loan a week before the big race I would be able to pay it back after a week and the interest would be a measly one thousand Rand. At no time did I ever even consider what would happen if the horse I chose didn’t win. But, with all the information that I was gathering, whatever horse I chose would win. I knew it would.
I searched the internet for information on the horses, jockeys and trainers that would be participating in the J & B Met and compiled a database for each one. Two huge muscled men wearing tight T-shirts, blue denim jeans and dark glasses came to the house and inspected the furniture. They were intimidating and aggressive and simply walked into the house when I opened the front door, not even greeting me. Shortly after they left I received a call from Rocky Bogdanovic.
“My boys tell me that the furniture’s good enough to be used as surety for the loan.” he said. “But if you removed any of it from the house before the loan has been fully paid you’ll be in big trouble. Do you know what I’m saying? Now, when do you want the money?”
The J & B Met was scheduled to take place on the twenty sixth of January, the last Saturday of the month.
“I can only take possession of the copy paper on the twenty fourth of January.” I replied. “So I’d like to get the money on the twenty third.”
“Okay.” Rocky said. “Wednesday the twenty third of January it is. Come here to my office at ten o’clock in the morning. And bring your I.D. book. I need to keep it until the loan's been repaid.”
Fortunately Cindy had not been at home when Rocky’s two thugs came to inspect the furniture. I was determined to keep my plans a secret and not even tell her when the race was over and my horse had won. I kept the data on the race participants that I’d collected locked in one of the drawers in my desk and even deleted my internet roaming history, although I knew that Cindy would never spy on me. Ever since I was a child I had been secretive and loathed to disclose things about myself to others.
By the Monday before the big race I’d whittled the field down to five possible winners. The favourite was Pocket Power, the previous year’s winner at one to three on but I had my doubts that he could win a second time. In recent times only one horse had managed to win the J & B two years running. The other horse that interested me was Big City Life, an outsider, but with form that indicated that he was improving and had an excellent chance of winning. Big City Life’s odds were twelve to one.
On the Wednesday before the big race I went to Rocky Bogdanovic's shop, signed the papers that he proffered, left my identity document with him and collected the cash.
Pocket Power’s odds of one to three on made it impossible for me make enough from my ten thousand Rand and I resolved that if my final choice was Pocket Power I would repay the loan to Rocky together with the interest that had accrued during the three days that I had the loan and wait for another opportunity. But I became more and more convinced that Big City Life was going to win. His form, jockey and trainer all indicated that he was the horse to back. I decided to back the horse with the ten thousand Rand and, worried that his odds would shorten I went to the betting hall and placed my bet, spreading it amongst the five book makers so as not to attract attention.
By the time Saturday the twenty sixth arrived I was a nervous wreck but I kept assuring myself that I’d done all my homework on the race and Big City Life would win. In the morning I went with Cindy to buy groceries.
“What’s wrong with you, Garth?” she asked as we walked home. “You’re as taut as a banjo string!”
“Nothing.” I replied. “I’m just a little worried that I still haven’t been able to find a job. I can’t live off a hundred and fifty Rand a day.”
“Well, something will come along.” Cindy said. “The country’s doing well. You’re bound to find something soon.”
No sooner had we got home than Cindy’s cell phone rang. I went into the kitchen to get a beer. I stood staring out of the kitchen window trying to relax. Cindy came into the room.
“Okay.” I said. “I’m going to stay here and watch sport on television.”
An hour later Cindy left to visit he mother. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was becoming more and more difficult for me to stay calm and relaxed. I took some beers and a packet of peanuts into the lounge and settled down on the couch in front of the television. The time dragged by. I found it impossible to concentrate. My mind raced from one thing to another as I tried to stop myself from thinking about the big race to come and by the time it started I had drunk eight beers. My mind was a little fuzzy but as the horses broke from the starting gates it became clear and alert.
By the halfway mark it was still anyone’s race and Pocket Power looked sluggish. Big City Life was in the pack but looking good. Gradually the horses settled into a more spread-out pattern and with two hundred metres to go the leading horse, Alvaro, led Pocket Power by about a length. Suddenly Big City Life started to move up and with less than a hundred metres to the finish line my horse had narrowed the gap between it and Alvaro to half a length. Then, just as Big City Life got ahead of Alvaro, Pocket Power surged forward and together the two horses passed the leader.
I jumped up from the couch, spilling my beer onto the carpet. Pocket Power and Big City Life were neck-and neck and then, to my horror, Pocket Power surged ahead to beat Big City Life by a neck. I blinked my eyes in disbelief as I realised what had happened. My horse had lost. The money I’d borrowed from Rocky Bogdanovic was gone. Ten thousand Rand down the drain. And I had three days in which to find the first instalment of one thousand Rand and the interest for the first week, also one thousand Rand. I stared blankly at the television screen as Pocket Power was led into the winner’s circle, trying desperately to convince myself that this was all a dream and that I would wake up from the nightmare at any moment. But it wasn’t a dream. I had lost.
***
“Your Honour.” my attorney, Paul Greave, said addressing Judge Warren Bester. “Once more I would like Garth Gilmore to step down from the witness stand and bring back Cindy Bedford.”
“You may.” the judge said, nodding his head.
CHAPTER 9
I sat down on the witness stand. James Foster smiled at me.
"Cindy." he said. "Please tell the court what happened when you got home on the day that you discovered that Garth Gilmore had borrowed ten thousand Rand from a money lender and then lost it all betting on the horses."
***
I closed the front door and glanced into the lounge. Garth sat slumped on the couch staring vacantly at the television screen in front of him. Empty beer cans were scattered across the carpet and lying on the couch next to him. The smell of spilt beer filled the air. I put my handbag down on the small table near the front door and walked into the lounge. Garth continued to stare at the television set.
“Hi.” I said. “You seem to have a good afternoon.”
I pointed to the empty beer cans.
Garth stared up at me briefly, frowning slightly as his bleary eyes struggling to focus.
“I’ve had a terrible afternoon.” he muttered. “But I don’t want to talk about it now. Maybe later this evening.”
“Okay.” I said. “Can I get you another beer or would you like something to eat?”
“Neither.” Garth said. “Just leave me alone. I’ll talk to you later.”
I left the lounge and went to the kitchen and began getting the ingredients for our supper together. What did Garth mean when he’d said that he’d had a terrible afternoon? And he’d looked very drunk, something I’d never seen him do before. There must have been at least twelve empty beer cans lying around him. Had he started gambling again and lost money that wasn’t his? I sighed. I would just have to be patient. If I tried to quiz Garth now I would only succeed in angering him.
I deliberately delayed the evening meal to give Garth time to sober up. The fact that he’d said that he would talk to me later about what had happened that afternoon worried me. Garth was usually so secretive and getting him to talk about anything was extremely difficult. But now he had offered to talk. I heard him leave the lounge and go into the bathroom. He closed and locked the door. I went to the lounge and quickly gathered up the empty beer cans and the empty peanut packet. I returned to the kitchen and threw them into the rubbish bin. Garth came out of the bathroom and walked into the kitchen.
“Are you ready to eat?” I asked.
Garth nodded and sat down at the kitchen table. I served the meal and sat down. Garth picked up his fork and began toying with the food while I ate. I finished my meal and looked up at Garth.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked.
“No.” Garth replied.
“What’s troubling you, Garth?” I asked. “You said earlier that you’d had a terrible afternoon. What happened?”
“Cindy.” Garth said quietly. “I’ve done something that’s got me into big trouble.”
I stared across the table at Garth.
“I borrowed some money from a money lender and used it to bet on the horses.” Garth continued, staring down at the plate of cold food in front of him.”
“You lost the money.” I said.
Garth nodded, still staring at the food in front of him.
“Yes.” he said. “I was so sure that the horse that I’d backed would win. I’d analysed the horses, jockeys and trainers very carefully. To me this was a chance to make a lot of money. I was desperate. I know that I’m not going to find a decent job. The horse lost by half a head. Do you know how close that is?”
I stared at Garth. I could clearly see the frustration and shame that he was experiencing.
“How much did you borrow?” I asked.
“Ten thousand Rand.” Garth whispered.
A feeling of depression fell over me like a suffocating cloak.
“When do you have to pay it back?” I asked.
“The first instalment with the interest is due on Wednesday.” Garth said.
“How much?”
“Two thousand Rand.” Garth said.
I looked down at the empty plate in front of me as I tried to put into perspective what Grant had just told me. Two thousand Rand wasn’t as much as I’d expected.
“Do you have to pay it on Wednesday?” I asked. “Can’t you pay it on Friday? I’ll be getting my pay of Thursday and we can draw the two thousand Rand in cash on Friday morning.”
Garth shook his head.
“You have no idea of what kind of bastard I’m dealing with.” Garth said. “This man is as hard and as cold as ice. He won’t accept a late payment, even if it’s a minute late.”
“What will he do if you don’t pay on time?” I asked.
“Firstly, the whole debt plus the interest will become due immediately.” Garth said. “And if I can’t pay that he’ll send his goons around here. They’ll probably beat me up first and then take all the furniture in the house. I had to put it up as surety.”
The cloak of depression grew heavier.
“Go and speak to the man, Garth.” I said. “What have you got to lose? Tell him we’ll pay the first instalment and the interest on Friday. Surely two days can’t make that much difference.”
Garth sighed.
“Okay.” he said. “I’ll go and speak to him on Monday morning.”
***
On the Monday I tried several times during the day to contact Garth on his cell phone but for some or other reason he’d switched it off. I fretted through the day struggling to concentrate on my work. When four thirty finally arrived I hurried home. I found Garth sitting in the lounge. His left eye was badly bruised and so swollen that his eye had been reduced to a slit. The left side of hi
s jaw was also red and badly swollen. I sat down on the couch next to him.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I went to see Bogdanovic as I said I would.” Garth said. “The moment I asked for an extension of my first instalment he flew into a rage. He swore at me and threatened to have me beaten up. I tried to explain that I would be able to pay the instalment on Friday but he wouldn’t listen. When I got angry he called in two of his thugs. They hauled me out of the chair that I was sitting in and, while the one held me, the other one hit me. They were much too strong. I was helpless. Then Bogdanovic told me that if I didn’t pay the first instalment and the interest on Wednesday, not only would he take all the furniture in the house, he would also have his guys beat me up so badly that I’d be in hospital for six months.”
“But they can’t do that!” I said.
“Cindy.” Garth said. “These people are gangsters. They’re not afraid of the law. They’re a law unto themselves. Believe me; they won’t hesitate for a second to hurt me and possibly you as well. They’re vicious bastards!”
We sat in silence. I car swished past in the street. A dog began barking a few houses away. Children laughed as they played in the street nearby.
“I’ll borrow the two thousand Rand from the company.” I said. “They can take it off my salary on Friday.”
“Will they do that?” Garth asked.
“I don’t know.” I said. “Otherwise I’ll take the money out of the cash that that I get from the early shift cashiers when they come to cash in their takings for the day. Nobody will notice as I’m the only person who handles the cash. Then I’ll alter the total on the deposit slip and on Friday I’ll add the cash back into that day’s total. The cash total in my books for the week will then balance with the total deposited for the week. . If anyone queries it I’ll say that I added up the money incorrectly on the Tuesday and when I noticed the mistake I rectified it on Friday.”
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