Cobra

by Deon Meyer

  They concealed one vehicle behind a shed a hundred metres away from the farmyard. Cupido, Fillander, Mbali, and Ndabeni stayed behind, since the Cobras’ luggage, a few firearms, and travel documents were still in the house.

  Griessel and Nyathi took Adair to the city: he’d asked to be taken to Lillian Alvarez as quickly as possible.

  Griessel sat in the back of the big Ford Territory, with his and Nyathi’s assault rifles beside him on the seat. Adair sat in front beside Nyathi, who was behind the wheel.

  On the R304 Nyathi said, ‘You realise you are still in danger?’

  ‘I do. But as soon as I’ve seen Lillian, I will rectify the matter. I will Skype the editor of the Guardian. He is a man of the utmost integrity, and I will make a full confession, and give him access to the data.’

  ‘But the memory card is gone.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Wasn’t the data on the memory card?’

  ‘Of course it was. I was hoping against hope that, if I gave them the data in a tangible format, they would not kill me. But they would have, I’m sure. The data also lives in the cloud. Two or three places. They’ll find it, eventually, I suppose. One always leaves tracks . . .’

  On the N1, just before the Lucullus Street off-ramp, Adair said philosophically, ‘Of course, one contemplates one’s own demise, under these circumstances. And then you keep hoping that all the lies, all the deceit, will somehow be uncovered. That the truth will set us all free. But you know, it is such an imperfect world, and it is getting more imperfect every day. So, thank you . . .’

  Griessel looked out of the window and thought about Mbali, who had also spoken about how liberating the truth could be. His mind was so filled with the question of secrets and lies that he was barely aware of the white Volkswagen Amarok double cab drawing up beside them.

  Later he would not remember whether it was an odd movement, the sun reflecting on a gun barrel, or the vaguely familiar face of the man. Something suddenly made him focus, triggered the alarm in his head. In one move he grabbed the rifle on the seat next to him and shouted, ‘Sir!’

  It was too late.

  The shots boomed beside them, the bullets punched through him, and through Nyathi. Shreds of fabric puffed from the headrests, the wind was suddenly loud in his ears, and a bloody mist, entire droplets, seemed to hang suspended in the interior of the car.

  Griessel felt the exploding pain of bullet wounds, the terrible violence of lead slamming, tearing into his body.

  Nyathi lost control of the Ford, the vehicle zigzagged across the road, skidded, overturned, and rolled. Griessel tried to hold on. Airbags exploded. He had his seat belt fastened, that was his only thought, he had his seat belt fastened, now he could tell Fritz it was proof that that was the right thing to do.

  Just before everything went black, he saw the body of Zola Nyathi, still buckled into his seat, but strangely uncontrolled. Only the laws of physics in charge of his body now, tugging it back and forth. And he thought: how fragile a person’s body is. Nyathi had always seemed so indestructible.

  There was a moment when he recovered consciousness, as he was suspended upside down in the wreckage, watching his blood flow from his body and pooling on the roof of the Ford. A moment when he was aware of the man who rifled through his pockets, hastily and roughly, but thoroughly. The face was devoid of emotion. It was one of them, one of the men on the O. R. Tambo photos. The man’s hands searched through all his pockets, coated in his blood.

  A shot cracked, one last time, in the shattered space.

  Then everything went quiet.

  62

  He saw Alexa beside the hospital bed, in the middle of the night. She was sleeping awkwardly in the chair. He tried to say something to her, but he was so very tired, he could scarcely open his mouth. His parched mouth.

  He was awake. He was at Alexa’s house, in the sitting room. His arm was gone. Completely. Alexa said don’t worry, there are bass guitar players with only one arm. She puffed on a cigarette.

  He dimly realised someone else was here too. Strange, it was daytime now. He opened his eyes. It was his daughter, Carla. She sat hunched over, her elbows on the bed, her face close to his, her expression intense, as if willing him not to go. He saw her mouth move, forming the word ‘Papa’, but he didn’t hear it. He was drifting away from everything. But both his arms were here.

  Fritz sat in the chair beside the hospital bed. His son, with a guitar. His son sang to him. It was so incredibly beautiful.

  He had a conversation with Nyathi and Mbali. They spoke Zulu and Xhosa, and to his surprise so did he. Kaleni said, Isn’t it wonderful?

  Yes, said Nyathi.

  What? Asked Griessel.

  There’s no corruption here, said Mbali. Look, Benny, none. It wasn’t for nothing after all.

  Cupido and Bones and Mbali stood beside his bed, their faces grim.

  ‘Vaughn,’ said Griessel.

  ‘Jissis,’ said Cupido and stood up, looked at him.

  ‘This is a hospital. Watch your language,’ said Mbali.

  ‘Get a nurse, he’s awake,’ said Cupido.

  And then Griessel was gone again.

  They only told him Nyathi was dead after he had been awake for two days. Nyathi and David Adair.

  ‘They thought you weren’t going to make it, Benny,’ said Alexa, her tears dripping on the sheet. She held his left hand tightly, the one on the arm that was still reasonably whole. ‘They brought you back from the brink of death twice. They said you had no blood left. None.’

  Two wounds in his right leg, one in his upper right arm, his right shoulder, his left wrist, two bullets through his ribs and his right lung. But everything would heal in time. There would be stiffness in the limbs, the surgeon said. For many years. He had been in a coma for sixteen days, they said. And he thought to himself, that was the easiest sixteen days off the bottle he had ever added to his tally.

  Cloete came and sat with him. ‘CNN, the BBC, Sky News and the New York Times are all asking for interviews, Benny. Are you up to it?’

  ‘No.’

  Superintendent Marie-Caroline Aubert phoned him from Lyon. She sympathised with the loss of his colleague. She congratulated him on the arrest of Curado. She said the one he shot dead was the only French citizen, one Romain Poite. The others that they identified were all Eastern Europeans, but also former members of the French Foreign Legion. ‘We are trying to track them down, thanks to your good work.’

  Jeanette Louw, the owner of Body Armour, came to sit with him too. He told her everything.

  Alexa was there every day, in the morning, afternoon, and evening. Carla came to visit. Fritz. His colleagues. Doc Barkhuizen. His fellow Rust band members. And Lize Beekman, once. ‘I’m sorry about your concert,’ he said.

  ‘It won’t be the last one,’ she said. ‘Just get better.’

  He had done a lot of thinking, in the hospital. When Alexa came to fetch him and take him to her house, his words were ready.

  Tired and weak, he climbed into the double bed in Alexa’s bedroom. Then he said,‘Come sit here, please. There is something I have to talk about.’

  She sat down, concerned.

  ‘I love you very much,’ he said.

  ‘And I love you, Benny.’

  ‘Alexa, I didn’t know what to say, because it’s a difficult thing. But someone said: the truth makes us free . . .’

  ‘What truth, Benny?’

  ‘I can’t . . . you know . . .’ and all his planned words and phrases, practised in his mind, over and over, deserted him.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Before this thing . . .’ And he indicated the last of the bandages. ‘I couldn’t keep up. With the . . . sex. I’m too old and too fucked-up, Alexa. I can’t do the thing every day any more. You are very sexy to me, my head wants to, but my . . .’ He pointed at his groin.

  ‘Your rascal,’ she said.

  ‘Yes. My rascal can’t keep up. Not every day.
Maybe every second day. We can try.’

  He saw how her face crumpled. He saw her begin to cry, and he thought, fok, that was the wrong thing to say.

  ‘I’ll see a doctor,’ he said.

  She hugged him tightly. He felt the warmth of her breath, and her tears. ‘I was so scared, Benny. I was never enough for Adam. I thought that was why he strayed. I just wanted to be enough for you.’

  Adam, her late husband.

  ‘You are more than enough for me,’ he said. ‘Just not every day.’

  ‘Thank God,’ she said.

  And then he heard her vibrant, joyful laugh.

  GLOSSARY

  Ai – ah, oh; ow, ouch, mostly used a little despairingly.

  Ag – Very similar to ‘ai’: ah!, oh!; alas, pooh!, mostly used with resignation.

  Annerlike – Cape Flats Afrikaans for ‘a different kind of’ – often used in a negative way. (Cape Flats slang refers to the Afrikaans spoken on the Cape Flats, a vast area east of Cape Town, where the majority of ‘Cape Coloured’ people reside. ‘Coloured people’ refer to the descendants of Malaysian slaves in South Africa (forced migration by the Dutch East India Company), who intermarried with white farmers and local Khoi people – as opposed to Blacks (descendants of the Bantu people) and Whites (descendants of European settlers).

  Appie – Diminutive of ‘apprentice’, someone who is learning a trade.

  Baie – Afrikaans for ‘A lot’, or ‘very’.

  Bergie - Cape Flats Afrikaans for a homeless person, often a vagrant, living on the side of Table Mountain (berg = mountain).

  Blerrie – Cape Flats slan for ‘bloody’.

  Bliksem – Mild profanity, used as an exclamation or adjective (‘Damn!’ or ‘damned’), a verb (I will ‘bliksem’ you = I will hit you hard).

  Blougatte – When trainee constables attend police college, they wear blue uniforms, and are called ‘blue arses’, or ‘blougatte’. The nickname is also used to refer to lower, uniformed police ranks in uniform as a slightly derogatory term, as opposed to plain clothes police women and men.

  Boetie – Diminutive of ‘broer’, which means ‘brother’.

  Bok – Afrikaans for ‘goat’ or ‘deer’, but used much more widely. ‘Here’s a middle-aged bok with a pretty young thing’ refers to an Afrikaans idiom ‘an old goat likes green leaves’, meaning ‘an older man likes younger women’. ‘Bok’ or the diminutive ‘bokkie’ is also used an as endearment for men or women.

  Broe’, daai’s kwaai – Cape Flats Afrikaans for ‘Brother, that’s heavy’.

  Coloured – See ‘Annerlike’ above.

  Daai, daai’s – Cape Flats Afrikaans for ‘that’ (daai) or ‘that is’ (daai’s).

  Daatlik – Cape Flats Afrikaans for ‘immediately’.

  Dagga – Afrikaans for cannabis.

  Die Boer – Literally, ‘The Farmer’. It is the name of a famous, intimate music theatre in Durbanville, a suburb of Cape Town.

  Die rekening is agterstallig – Afrikaans for ‘Your account is in arrears.’

  Dis ‘n lekker een die – Afrikaans for ‘this is a good one’. ‘Lekker’ is word widely used for anything that is ‘good’, ‘delicious’, ‘tasty’.

  Dof – Afrikaans for ‘faint’, but also used to indicate a stupid person.

  Donner – Mild Afrikaans expletive, literally meaning ‘thunder’. Often used in the sense of “I am going to donner you’ – I am going to hurt / hit you.

  Doos – Afrikaans expletive, comparing someone to female genitalia. Closest English translation would be ‘cunt’.

  Dop – Afrikaans for ‘a drink’, referring to alcohol.

  Drol – Afrikaans for ‘turd’.

  Dronkgat – Afrikaans for ‘drunkard’. (Literally, ‘a drunk arse’.)

  Ek kom van die Pniel af – Cape Flats Afrikaans for ‘I come from Pniel’. Pniel is a village near Stellenbosch.

  Ek sê jou – Afrikaans for ‘I am telling you.’

  Ek versta’ jou nie – Afrikaans for ‘I don’t understand you’. (Cape Flats vernacular.)

  Ek vra ma net – Afrikaans for ‘I am just asking.’

  Ek wiet, ja – Cape Flats vernacular for ‘I know, yes.’

  Flippen – Mild expletive, used as an acceptable alternative for ‘fucking’. (Afrikaans.)

  Fokken – Afrikaans for ‘fucking’, as in ‘that fucking guy . . .’

  Gefok – Afrikaans for ‘fucked’, as in ‘I am fucked.’

  Fok weet – Afrikaans for ‘fuck knows’.

  Fokkit – Afrikaans for ‘fuck it’.

  Fokker – Afrikaans for ‘fucker’.

  Fokkol – Afrikaans for ‘fuck all’, meaning ‘nothing’.

  Goeters – Afrikaans for ‘stuff’.

  Gooi – Literally, Afrikaans for ‘throw’, but used as a slang verb substitute for, inter alia, ‘sing for us’, or ‘tell me’ …

  Hase – Literally, Afrikaans for ‘rabbits’, but used here as the collective name by which members of the South African police refer to the public.

  Helm – Literally, Afrikaans for ‘helmet’. According to local superstition, when a baby is born with the placenta covering her / his head, it is believed the baby is born with the ‘helm’, and could have a special talent of foretelling the future, or ‘see’ or ‘feel’ evil.

  “Here is an example so long” – ‘So long’ is a typical example of how Afrikaans had influenced South African English. ‘Solank’ (literally means ‘in the mean time’) became ‘so long’, and is widely used.

  Hier’s nou ‘n ding – ‘Now here’s a thing.’ (Afrikaans.)

  Hierjy – A nobody, as in “I am not just some nobody’. (Afrikaans.)

  Hyahi – IsiZulu for ‘No!’. (South Africa has 11 official languages: Afrikaans, English, IsiNdebele, IsiXhosa, IsiZulu, Sepedi, Sesotho, Setswana, SiSwati, Tshivenda, Xitsonga. Township slang transcends all 11.)

  Jakob Regop – Afrikaans for the fl ower zinnia. Literally means ‘Jacob standing at attention’ sometimes Anglicized as ‘Jacob Straight-up’, it can also refer to an erect male sexual organ.

  Jirre – Cape Flats slang for God, approximates ‘Gawd’. (Afrikaans.)

  Jissis – Jeez (as in harsher version of the exclamation Jesus!) (Afrikaans.)

  Jy’s – Abbreivates form of the Afrikaans ‘jy is’, meaning ‘you are’.

  Jy kannie net loep nie – ‘You can’t just walk away?’ (Afrikaans.)

  Jy wiet. Jy wietie – Cape Flats Afrikaans for ‘You know’. Or: ‘You don’t know’ = jy wietie.

  Kaaps – Literally, ‘from the Cape’ or ‘of the Cape’, referring to anything from the Cape Town region, or the wider Western Cape Province. (South Africa has nine provinces (similar to the states of the USA): Gauteng, Limpopo, Mpumalanga, Northwest, Free State, KwaZulu-Natal, Northern Cape, Eastern Cape, and Western Cape.)

  Kak – ‘Shit’.

  Knippies – Literally, ‘knip’ is Afrikaans for ‘clasp’, ‘clip’ or ‘fastener’. Knippies would literally be the plural form, but used here as a nickname for the pickpocket Tyrone Kleinbooi, who uses a hair clip as distraction.

  Kwaai – Mostly used in slang form to indicate coolness, it is an Afrikaans word with a very wide application. Literally meaning someone who is hot-tempered, bad-tempered, ill-natured, harsh or severe, it is also often used as an exclamation: ‘Kwaai!’ = “Cool!’ (or ‘Heavy!’).

  Kwaat – Cape Flats Afrikaans for ‘angry’.

  Lat ek een hier het – Afrikaans (Cape Flats vernacular) of: ‘… that I have one here.’ “And it just so happens lat ek een hier het” means: “And it just so happens that I have one with me / right here with me”.

  Lekka, lekker – Afrikaans word widely used for anything that is ‘good’, ‘delicious’, ‘tasty’. (‘Lekka’ is Cape Flats vernacular, ‘lekker’ is formal Afrikaans.)

  Liewe ffff – Literally, ‘dear ffff . . .’ US English equivalent would be “Sweet fff…’ as in someone just stopping short of saying ‘
sweet fuck’.

  Lobola – (Or Labola, an isiZulu or isiXhosa word, sometimes translated as ‘bride price’.) A traditional Southern African custom whereby the man pays the family of his fiancée for her hand in marriage. The custom is aimed at bringing the two families together, fostering mutual respect, and indicating that the man is capable of supporting his wife financially and emotionally. Traditionally paid in heads of cattle, but cash is now widely accepted. (Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lobolo)

  Los – Afrikaans for ‘loose’.

  Ma’ – Abbreviated form of ‘maar’, meaning ‘but’. (Afrikaans.)

  Ma’ nou weet hulle – ‘But now they know.’ (Afrikaans.)

  Maaifoedie – Cape Flats Afrikaans for a scoundrel or rascal.

  Maar – see ‘Ma’’ above.

  Middag, goeie middag – ‘Afternoon, good afternoon.’ (Afrikaans.)

  Mkhonto we Sizwe – or Umkhonto weSizwe (“Spear of the Nation”) or ‘MK’ as it was more commonly known, was the military wing of the African National Congress (ANC), launched on the 16th December 1961.

  The African National Congress (ANC) is South Africa’s governing party and has been in power since the transition to democracy in April 1994. The organisation was initially founded as the South African Native National Congress (SANNC) on 8 January 1912 in Bloemfontein, with the aim of fighting for the rights of black South Africans. The organization was renamed the ANC in 1923. While the organization’s early period was characterized by political inertia due to power struggles and lack of resources, increasing repression and the entrenchment of white minority rule galvanized the party. As a result of the establishment of apartheid, its aversion to dissent by black people and brutal crackdown of political activists, the ANC together with the SACP formed a military wing, uMkhonto we Sizwe (Spear of the Nation/ MK) in 1961. (Quoted from South African History Online: http://www.sahistory.org.za/topic/umkhonto-wesizwe-mk and http://www.sahistory.org.za/organisations/african-national-congress-anc)

  Moenie soe wies nie – Cape Flats vernacular for ‘Don’t be like that’.

  Moenie worrie nie – Afrikaans slang for ‘Don’t worry’.