He has scoured the list for any name he might recognize, but there is nothing. Now, he is checking each name against those with a criminal record in the SAPS system. He is certain that there would be an easy way to check all the names simultaneously, but he neither knows how to enter them into the system en masse, nor how to begin such a protocol. There are a few hits for minor offences, as well as two for rape, but both of these crimes were for men against women.
De Vries notices two intriguing factors: firstly, that there are the names of Steinhauer’s patients seen in his Johannesburg office, as well as those here in Cape Town; that the profile of Steinhauer’s patients consists almost exclusively of teenagers and young men under the age of thirty-five. There are no women and no older people.
Don February knocks at his closed door, and Vaughn calls him in.
‘We have a definite link between Johannes Dyk and Hubert Steinhauer at Valkenberg,’ Don says. ‘They worked together on the same research investigating the brain formation of children. It looks like Dyk tried to support Steinhauer at the time of his suspension.’
De Vries says, ‘So when Dyk talked about Steinhauer’s sons, he was telling the truth?’
‘They worked together for several years, so it is quite possible that Dyk was a friend of the family.’
‘Nicholas Steinhauer lied then, when he said he scarcely knew him.’
‘I think so.’
‘Hold the door.’
Before the identity of the voice registers, Don has already depressed the button which reopens the doors of the elevator. Colonel David Wertner steps in, nods at him and stands by the buttons. As the doors close, he presses the red Stop button. Then he reaches into his trouser pocket and produces a set of keys, selects a small gold one, inserts it into the elevator control panel and twists it. The light for Don’s floor goes out. Wertner presses the button for the basement, the doors close and the lift begins to descend. They ride in silence and, when the cubicle jolts to a stop, Don remains in the corner until Wertner tells him to follow him.
‘Take ten minutes,’ Wertner tells the female officer at the reception desk to the archive files. ‘Go for a walk in the sun and buy yourself a nice cup of coffee.’
Don stares at Wertner, sees teeth in his smile.
She walks towards the lift without a word. Wertner moves around the desk and sits in her chair.
‘I’ve brought you here, Warrant Officer, so that we can talk without interruption.’
Something, Don reflects, easily achievable in Wertner’s own office, without the need to bring him to the windowless, echoing hallways of steel shelving and brutal fluorescent lights; the key that overrides the elevator settings, the demonstration of rank and control of those he watches.
‘Stand here.’ Wertner gestures in front of the desk. ‘There is only one chair.’ He leans back in it. ‘You find yourself in a difficult situation. To be promoted and to work for a senior officer on a high-profile case such as this may have seemed a gift, but it can also be a curse. You are observed more carefully and your decisions will be analysed. Because I am not alone in recognizing your talents, I am going to take you into my confidence. I expect you to respect this. Colonel de Vries has made few friends because of his working methods, but he suffers from paranoia that he is persecuted by his peers. The facts are simple in this matter. The SAPS has changed, clearly for the better, and Colonel de Vries’ style of policing is now outdated and, frankly, ineffective. My department was ordered to scrutinize his failed investigation seven years ago into the disappearance of those boys and, concurrently, for incidents between then and now, leading up to his handling of this current murder investigation. Do you understand me?’
Don hesitates. Then he says: ‘I understand what you have just told me. Yes, sir.’
‘As his Warrant Officer, you will be judged alongside him. It would be . . . unfortunate if your career were to suffer because of the misjudgements of your superiors. A modern SAPS seeks officers who are ardent in their duty, but alert to the demands of the modern age. There are political considerations, there are media responsibilities and there is adherence to, and public support for, the changes so successfully introduced. I would hate to see you branded as out of touch, or in some way inappropriate for future promotion. Colonel de Vries will be found wanting in his execution of duty. In this current investigation, there are already many matters that trouble, not only my department, but those at the very top of the SAPS nationally. Notwithstanding the alleged suicide of a suspect, there are allegations of bullying other possible witnesses and, in so doing, bringing the SAPS into disrepute. You understand that, with the problems we face, we cannot accept behaviour that discredits all of us.’
He stares at Don. ‘Warrant Officer?’
‘I understand what you are saying, sir.’
‘Then understand this: you must be prepared to distance yourself from Colonel de Vries if you judge him to be erring from the prescribed path. Since this current case is drawing to a conclusion, you have an opportunity now, during the final report stage, to reflect on this investigation and your working relationship. Let me leave it at this: if you feel that to continue working for him would compromise your own integrity, then you can be assured of a favourable hearing from my department. I urge you to come to me if you feel at all uneasy. If you were to officially register your concern at an early opportunity, it would serve you well in the long run. Are we clear?’
Don meets his eye and nods.
‘You don’t say much, do you, Warrant Officer?’
Don shakes his head.
‘Vaughn?’
‘What is it, John?’
‘Why aren’t you answering?’
‘Getting a lot of calls just now.’
‘You could see it was me.’
‘Questioning my faith.’
‘In me?’
‘I don’t trust anyone, boykie. Don’t take it personally.’
‘You know what they say about that phrase “Don’t take it personally”?’
‘I don’t care.’
‘It’s always personal.’
‘Well?’
‘Well, get someone you do trust to cross-check payments the SAPS made to a business called “Tokai First Practice”.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It was a private psychology clinic in Tokai, which the SAPS used from 2004 to 2009 when they decided to outsource psychological support for officers from in-house.’
‘What is this place?’
‘Your men probably called it the funny farm or something like that. Stress counselling, psychological assessments, therapy – you should try it.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘This could be important.’
‘How did you find this?’
‘It was on the secretary’s computer in an archive file. It struck me: you aren’t looking for current patients – you’re looking for patients in 2007. I only searched those subsidiary files afterwards. Went back years. Accounts received, corporate clients and so forth. They show payments received from the SAPS.’
‘Why do I need to know about this clinic?’
‘Why? For fuck’s sake, Vaughn! Because SAPS officers from Cape Town went there between 2004 and 2009. And one of the specialists in rotation was Nicholas Steinhauer.’
Du Toit watches him as he speaks, knows that the pressure inside him must be growing, distorting its container.
It blows: ‘Jesus Christ, Henrik!’
Du Toit checks the door to his office.
‘What the fuck are you doing to me?’
Du Toit stares him down, keeps his voice controlled and even, treats him like a dog needing calming.
‘You’re up to your neck in anti-anxiety treatment, Vaughn. If not, I’d suspend you for drunkenness. You look like shit and I don’t trust your judgement.’ De Vries splutters, but du Toit speaks over him, slowly.
‘I have been appointed. We know what went down and it needs to be completed, explained and c
losed. That’s what I will do, and then we can all move on with our lives and careers. That’s the deal here now.’
‘The deal?’
‘Those are my orders.’
‘It’s indoctrination, Henrik. Ask yourself why they don’t want the answers.’
‘We have the answers.’
De Vries snorts.
‘What, Colonel?’
De Vries shifts in his chair, steadies himself as he feels the structure give.
‘You know nothing about this case,’ he says.
‘Vaughn . . .’
De Vries stands up now.
‘We know Dyk worked with Hubert Steinhauer. We know he knew Marc Steinhauer, and I spoke to Caroline Montague, née Steinhauer, and I can prove that Nicholas Steinhauer lied to us.’
‘We’ve been through this,Vaughn. If the only witness to contradict Nicholas Steinhauer is his sister, then you have nothing.’
‘I have a lot more than that. I am about to check information which links Nicholas Steinhauer to the SAPS from 2004 to 2009. Right before the abductions, all through the first investigations.’
‘What information?’
‘Steinhauer was part of a team responsible for psychological support and counselling for Cape Town SAPS arranged through a private service called Tokai First Practice.’
‘So what?’
‘So what? Steinhauer had a direct inside link to officers within the SAPS. He may even have had access to information about our inquiry. He has never mentioned his connection. He knew and worked with Johannes Dyk – the man who we consulted for psychological background into the likely perpetrator. These two men fed us useless or misleading information from day one. I want permission to release the names of the officers who came into contact with him.’
‘You’ll never get it. Patient confidentiality.’
‘We sent them, so someone within this building will have the files. You could have signed the papers yourself, Henrik. And we don’t need to know what they said or what they were told. We need to know who went to which doctor and we need to look at anyone who met with Steinhauer, and check his connection or even involvement.’
Du Toit stands up, exhales. ‘All right,’ he says, ‘That might be possible.’ He narrows his eyes. ‘And who found this information?’
‘Information received.’
‘That won’t do,Vaughn.’
‘It will do. It’s a logical progression of the inquiry. I’m betting that someone was giving Steinhauer information and, since I know that he’s involved, that gives him a huge advantage in controlling and directing our inquiry.’
Du Toit holds up the palms of his hands.
‘Stop, Vaughn! Just stop! I will find a way to request this information. I don’t want you involved. I know how you are just now, and it won’t work any more, not with the scrutiny we have to endure. If we need warrants or permissions, I will arrange for them to be obtained. The information will come to me and then we will look at it together, but privately. I don’t want this registered as part of the inquiry.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it is better not.’
‘Better, for what reason? For who?’
‘Vaughn, you don’t do politics and that’s fine. But this case is going to destroy the department and take both of us with it unless someone controls what is happening. I have the brass on one side, the media on the other, and David Wertner everywhere else. Steinhauer is politically connected and we have to be careful.’
‘Connected, how?’
‘It seems that he was contacted by the provincial Justice Department back in 2007. He was their backroom consultant on the case.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Vaughn . . . I have had calls from the Mayor’s office. The word is that, publicly, this case is to be concluded. They know that the first rule of politics is don’t tell the public any more than you have to.’ Du Toit breaks off, spins around at speed to see who has entered the office. It is Don February. ‘What do you want,Warrant Officer?’
February glances at de Vries, straightens up to face du Toit.
‘Durbanville SAPS, sir. Major Kuzwayo has just communicated an abduction. A child – an eight-year-old boy – was abducted from the roadside almost two days ago. Major Kuzwayo’s men have followed up all the usual reasons for a disappearance, but everything checks out. Then, this morning, a female witness comes to the station and reports that she has seen a child matching this boy’s description, being dragged into a car off the R430.’
‘White?’ De Vries.
‘Ja.’ Don looks down at the paper in his hands. ‘Joe Pienaar. His father is estate manager of a wine farm there.’
‘What kind of a description?’
‘The witness says she saw a young boy being bundled into a car, seemingly against his will. Her description of his rugby shirt matched what Joe Pienaar was wearing.’
‘And the abductor?’ du Toit says.
‘She thinks a white guy, possibly coloured, tall, perhaps 1.6 to 1.8 metres. She thinks the car was a hatchback, perhaps navy blue or black.’
‘I want to go there. I want to talk to the witness and the boy’s parents.’
‘Vaughn,’ du Toit says, holding his arm up as if to block de Vries’ exit. ‘This has nothing to do with us. This is something else.’
‘No,’ de Vries argues. ‘Same-age boy, same race, same style. Picture it, sir. This takes place between the Riebeek Valley and Cape Town. This fits perfectly. It’s their next victim.’
‘I think you’re reading too much into everything. I heard about you and Hopkins—’
‘Listen. Just listen to me,’ he remembers they are not alone, ‘sir. These people – they have kept three boys for seven years and now they have none. Can’t you see this fits? Imagine what they might be thinking now that we are getting closer. You or I might go underground, but these people are not normal. They have no one to control, so they take another boy.’
‘Just wait,’ du Toit says. He turns to Don February. ‘Let the incident room know that this is a possible – stress possible – connection. I want to speak with Major Kuzwayo in ten minutes. Ensure that he is available. I will call him directly from my office. Then come back here and take your orders from Colonel de Vries. Go now.’
Don leaves and du Toit walks up to de Vries.
‘Sit down,Vaughn.’
‘I can get more out of that witness than those guys ever can.’
‘Whatever this is, we have to tread carefully. If we link our investigation with this event and it turns out to be unconnected, we cannot defend ourselves. I am required to scale down the inquiry, not ramp it up further.’ He lowers his voice. ‘If the two converge, then the nightmare has begun again, and I am not prepared to accept that, based on what we have.’
‘And by waiting you’ll let the trail go cold. For God’s sake, if this is the same man who took those children seven years ago, then this is the best chance we’ve had to follow him.’
‘Follow him? Vaughn, the witness statement is two days old.’
‘Listen to me!’Vaughn realizes that he is shouting and checks himself. ‘Sir, this man didn’t take Bobby, Steven and Toby and then drop out of the picture. He visited them, fed them, probably abused them. That means that he was in the Riebeek Valley week after week, month after month, and if that is the case, then he is there now, with Joe Pienaar.’
‘He could be anywhere.’
‘There are repeating fingerprints all over that scene. Ulton can’t match them because they’re not on record, but he’s already identified six independent sets. One belongs to Marc Steinhauer, another we now know is Johannes Dyk. One of those sets will match this man, and the others correspond to those boys’ abusers. With Marc Steinhauer dead, his brother lawyered up, controlling the media, Johannes Dyk off his head, we have one last chance to find them.’
‘Let the Durbanville boys deal with it.’
‘Look at the pattern, for God’s sake.’ De Vries bangs the h
eels of his hands against his forehead in frustration. ‘Nicholas Steinhauer makes a point of saying he’s leaving Cape Town. He announces it to us. Then, another young white boy disappears.’
‘Vaughn . . .’ Du Toit stares at de Vries’ pale cheeks beneath the dirty stubble, grimaces. ‘General Thulani has made it clear. You are answerable to me, and I have the responsibility. Follow your leads here. I will ensure that I know everything that happens there. I’ll talk to this Major Kuzwayo and then we’ll find out whether what you were asking me about: officer referral to this clinic . . . ?’
‘Tokai First Practice.’ He spells it out.
‘Yes. Whether we have the information here in this building or whether we need a court order. If we do, I want that warrant application delivered to my office as soon as you can. Classon is here somewhere. I’ll run it past him and we’ll see where we go.’
‘Henrik – sir – if this is the same man, we’ll catch him from this crime, not from those seven years ago.’
‘And we may yet. But you aren’t going anywhere,Vaughn. Stay in the building and don’t leave it without checking with me first. That’s an order.’
John Marantz drives his dog to Muizenberg Beach, negotiating the roadworks and the chaotic traffic-flows, until he reaches Sunrise Beach. He is dragged on the end of a taut lead through the dunes and onto the broad swathe of pale yellow sand, turning left, away from the busy town and towards the horizon. If it was safe, you could walk all the way to Gordon’s Bay here, thirty kilometres of near-perfect beach in the distance. He lets Flynn off the lead and watches the fit red-haired terrier bound towards the water. The dog runs into the waves and sprints beside the seemingly unending parallel lines of breaking surf. Marantz follows him down to the water’s edge, angling his face towards the sun, letting the autumn heat burn into him. He takes off his sandals and walks ankle-deep in the surf. The water is cold, but it is warmer than elsewhere around Cape Town, warmed by the Agulhas Current.
He closes his eyes, enveloped in a long-distant memory – a recollection of happiness and domestic contentment which seemed at the time nothing but a trivial entitlement, yet now unattainable: a husband with his wife; a father with his daughter. Here, there are couples walking hand in hand towards him, children chasing dogs and running away from incoming waves. He remembers brushing damp cold English sand off the warm, soft soles of his daughter’s feet, kneeling in front of her legs dangling from the floor of the hatchback. He can picture her foot in his hand, so small that his fingers can encompass it. It is only the memory of a dream, but it makes him so sad that he feels his breathing quicken, his heart strain and ache. He feels the deep well of guilt inside his stomach. He should never have given them up; he should never have believed them lost. He should still be searching now, without respite.
The First Rule of Survival Page 28
