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The Other Four

Page 26

by Nsununguli Mbo


  There were four chairs already in the conference centre, placed there for us. We sat. Modimonthuse and I sat facing the entrance. This was on purpose; as planned.

  “I need to send a quick SMS,” I said before we began talking.

  I fiddled with my phone, found the menu, chose what I was looking for, pressed a button, put the phone back in my pocket and said, “Sorry about that, guys.”

  I told Modimonthuse about why I needed the cattle. At the end, I turned to my two dumb passengers and said, “Now, who between the two of you will tell your part of the story?”

  They looked at each other. Then Dumani said, “I will.”

  It took a good part of an hour to finish the story. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had some questions to which I needed answers. And I was going to get them.

  “Oh, what about my family?” I said.

  They looked at each other. Then Dumani said, “We don’t know anything about your family. Now, shall you give us the cattle so we can get going?” He rubbed his hands together like he was in a real hurry. He was sounding a little annoyed. Thabang looked annoyed too.

  Slow down, fool. You’re not going anywhere. At least not yet.

  “No need to hurry. A hundred head of cattle will take a while to move. Plus, you’ll need to organize transport first. I could help you with that one. I could ask my manager here to let you use his truck. But only if you cooperate.”

  They mellowed down.

  Modimonthuse smiled. At least I was apparently winning his trust.

  I said, “Where is the other guy you were with? Don’t you think he may try to capture me if he doesn’t get cattle too?”

  Dumani smiled and said, “Actually I’ve been meaning to talk about him. He’ll probably try to kill you if he sees you. You’ll need to give him some cattle too. Fifty would probably do him.

  “But how does he fit into the equation?”

  Dumani told me the whole story, beginning with the murder through to how they ended hooking up and working with him.

  “So how will he collect his cattle if he is not here?”

  “I’ll get the cattle for him.”

  “No, no, no. I don’t think so. I want him present so he can promise me face to face that he’ll not try anything stupid after I’ve given him fifty cattle. Can you get him to come down here?”

  I could see they were suddenly frustrated. Thabang threw what looked like an accusing look towards Dumani. Dumani searched his trouser pocket and came out with an old iPhone.

  I couldn’t help wondering who the rightful owner of the phone might be. He peered into the screen and touched it several times with the most calloused finger I had ever seen.

  Dumani dialled Mothusi’s number and put the phone to his right ear and said, “Mothusi?”

  Mothusi yelled, “What took you so long? I thought you guys had swindled me. I was actually on my way to the Police station in revenge as we speak.”

  “Calm down. We wouldn’t do that. There has been a change of plan. We…”

  “Change of plan? How could you change plans without informing me?”

  “Calm down Mothusi. All is good. We have fifty cattle for you here. It’s a long story, but you need to be present for the man to give you the cattle.”

  “What man?”

  “We will explain. Things turned out better than we had anticipated.”

  “Where are you?” He sounded suddenly ecstatic.

  “Come to Tsebeyatonki conference centre. How…”

  “Tsebeyatonki! What the hell is going on here?”

  “Calm down Mothusi. I have everything under control. How long will it take you to get here?”

  “It’s going to be a while. I’ll have to organize a car.”

  “Sort something out. Hurry, we don’t have all day.”

  Dumani rang off. He was developing a headache and if things were not going to move fast he feared he might find himself having a hangover at the wrong time of the day. If he could swindle both Thabang and Mothusi, then he could get off to somewhere. Not much, but better than if he didn’t.

  Mothusi was angry. He had been on his way to tell the cops that Dumani and Thabang had kidnapped the murderer and that they were trying to help him get away. He intended to tell the cops the location. He had been annoyed that they had changed plans. The original plan had been for him to come along, then hide somewhere near Damon’s place, and as soon as they had been paid, he would sneak in and kill Ngano. But then he missed the only bus heading that way, adding to his frustration, hence his low threshold for going to the Police. Then, at the last minute, just after they had finally captured him — even more annoying was the fact that he, Mothusi, had supplied the information regarding Ngano’s whereabouts and even organised guys to get him drunk and subdue him — they had suddenly decided to go alone. Dumani had claimed he had had a chat with Damon and he wanted the delivery to be made by just Dumani and Thabang. Mothusi had not believed him, but he had had no choice. He had, though, told himself that if he didn’t hear from them after three hours, he was going to go to the cops.

  But now he didn’t have to. Fifty cattle! If he sold those for, say, four thousand pula apiece, he could get a reasonable amount of money.

  He had better get to Tsebeyatonki sooner than later. He buzzed Boxer. Boxer had been waiting for his call all day long — he had started sending Mothusi annoying SMSes now and again asking for an update — so it was by no surprise that he answered on the first ring. Now Mothusi had good news for him. What he intended to do was, he was going to ask Dumani to ask for fifty cattle for Boxer because he had helped tremendously in this deal.

  “Hello!” “Boxer, I need your help. I promise this will be the last time.”

  “What is it?”

  “We have a good number of cattle to collect in Tsebeyatonki and, as you know, between the two of us you’re the one who has a car.”

  I heard the sound of the car first.

  “He is here,” said Dumani.

  Good.

  The car approached slowly and stopped, probably

  next to the van. The engine was killed. Two doors slammed in slow succession. Thabang and Dumani looked at each other quizzically.

  There was a knock on the door. The headman went to open it and led two men in. One was the murderer we had all been waiting for. The other was a man that left me confused and feeling utterly betrayed.

  Modiri. Modiri panicked. He sweated, turned towards the door, seemingly undecided as to whether to bolt.

  I stood up and followed him. His legs seemed to suddenly have gone rubbery; he couldn’t move fast. There was utter silence in the large room. Just the sounds of footfalls. Mine and Modiri’s. I caught up with him, got hold of his right arm and whirled him around.

  “Modiri, so you were involved all along?”

  “I wasn’t. I can explain. I…they made me do it, or else.”

  “Who?”

  “Huh?”

  “Modiri, from what I know, you’re not deaf. You heard me. How could you betray me?”

  “Let go of me!” he said, pulling his arm away forcefully.

  I clamped it harder and twisted it. He twisted his body and tried to kick me. Without putting much thought into it, I rammed my right fist onto the side of his head. He fell. I feared I’d killed him. I was just starting to panic — so was everyone else in the room — when he stirred and stared at me in utter disbelief and fear.

  There was a sudden general sense of panic in the room. I had a feeling everyone was starting to get a sense of what was going on here. I winked at Modimonthuse, who in turn took out his cell phone and walked out of the conference centre. I knew I was taking risks by being left alone in a room with four dangerous people, but I took solace in the fact that that wasn’t going to be for long.

  Because everything was going according to plan.

  No sooner had Modimonthuse come back into the conference centre that I heard the sound of a car. Then a second one. Then a third o
ne, followed by a fourth. I’d been expecting these.

  I could hear the cars approaching until they came to park right in front of the conference centre. Everyone except Modimonthuse and I suddenly went into panic mode. I think, however dumb they were, they were starting to grasp what exactly was going on. They were just not sure yet. But they will, soon. But there was no escape because my plan was fool proof. And it was going well.

  The door was flung open with force and four armed Police entered. Modimonthuse and I stood back, away from the four. I could almost hear hearts pounding fast. They were visibly terrified. The wet patch in front of Thabang’s trousers immediately expanded, and one appeared on Dumani’s trousers. And Mothusi’s. And Modiri’s.

  I felt sorry for no one. I felt venom, in fact. For me to have been fooled into thinking that Modiri was on my side when in actual fact he was on the enemy’s side made me sick.

  The cops quickly cuffed the four and forced them to sit on the floor. They had disbelief written all over their faces. Modiri was crying. So was Mothusi. I wasn’t sure with Thabang and Dumani. You can never tell with drunk people. You could think they were crying when they were actually smiling. Or vice versa. Or they could maintain a blank expression when in actual fact they were crying. Or smiling. Sometimes they did both at the same time.

  The interrogation started, right there in the conference centre, with the cops explaining to the four that this wasn’t the real interrogation. They were to be interrogated properly at the Police station. For now they just needed “further information” to make sure they were not leaving anyone else involved behind.

  Dumani and Thabang revealed that they worked for a man called Damon, and Damon worked for a man named The Boss.

  “Is that his real name?” the cop whose name tag proclaimed him to be Adam Mochudi said.

  Dumani didn’t know if the name was real or not. Neither did Thabang.

  “What kind of name is that?” Adam said.

  Neither Dumani nor Thabang could answer.

  Mothusi said he was working for Damon, too.

  “Where are these two men you work for?” Adam asked Dumani and Thabang.

  “Damon lives out in the bush. I don’t know where The Boss lives. But Damon may know.”

  “We are going to get Damon first then. You direct us.”

  Dumani and Thabang were shoved into the back of one police van, and Mothusi and Modiri were shoved into the one. The van carrying Dumani and Thabang led. The chief and I followed behind in Dumani’s and Thabang’s van, with me at the wheel. The third police van was behind us. There were six cops altogether.

  I could see nothing but fright on Modiri’s face.

  We found the old man named Damon skinning what was either a rabbit or a raccoon. He was sitting by a small open fire, an old three legged pot with boiling water sitting on the fire. Poor old man, he wasn’t going to enjoy his home cooked supper today.

  Adam and one of the other cops went to stand behind him. Adam held the old man’s arms behind him, and cuffed him while at the same time saying, “You’re under arrest for attempted murder.”

  Tears flooded his eyes. But he didn’t say anything. He seemed too confused to understand what was going on. I couldn’t blame him; he hadn’t expected this. He had expected me to be delivered without the Police — either dead or alive, I didn’t know at this stage.

  Adam said, “Now, you’re going to show us where The Boss lives.”

  “I don’t know who that is,” said the old man.

  “We know you do. Your servants told us about him.”

  The old man bawled. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But then I remembered this was the geezer who had sent two dumb fucks to capture me.

  “I don’t know where he lives, I swear.”

  “Tell him to come over here, now! Don’t tell him we are here. He sounds like a dangerous man of sorts so we don’t want to alert him to our presence. And don’t try anything stupid. Don’t try to warn him of our presence through one of those codes you people use. We’ll leave our cars somewhere where he won’t see them when he comes in. So what shall you tell him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Here is what you shall tell him. Tell him you’ve finally got your victim captured. Tell him somebody saw the victim being brought in. Tell him that somebody later paid you a visit and threatened to report the sighting to the Police, that you suspect this somebody did actually call the cops, and that the earlier he needs to collect the victim immediately. I don’t care what he says to you. I just want you to make him come down here, or else we will make you remember where he lives because I know you know. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You tell him you want him to take the victim away before the cops come. You understand?”

  The old man nodded. He seemed to be about to say something but decided against it.

  “Here. Use my phone.”

  Adam visibly remembered he had just cuffed the man, so he said “Tell me the number and I’ll dial it for you.”

  “It’s in my phone,” the old man said, indicating with his head to his phone, which lay next to the skin of whatever he had been skinning when we arrived.

  Adam picked the old man’s phone up, fumbled with the keys, and found the number, dialled it on his own phone and put the phone against the old man’s left ear. I could hear his heart beating away and he was shaking like a leaf. I could hear the phone ringing. Everybody held their breaths. The room smelt of urine, probably because all these grown men had pissed themselves.

  T

  he man who called himself The Boss was a womaniser and he was proud of it. He had always been proud of it, dating back

  to when he was in primary school. He’d even slept with a teacher when he was in secondary school. He was a bully back then. Sometimes he bullied the younger teenagers into giving up their girlfriends to him.

  These days he liked them young, twenty — and sometimes thirty — years younger than him. He had a few lying around in different parts of the country.

  He had two wives, but only one of them knew about the other. And only she knew about his womanising. Nomsa was her name.

  He’d married Gaone first and it turned out she couldn’t have children. He got frustrated. He thought of divorce, but then he decided he needed her. They both desperately needed a child. He had his own reasons for wanting a child, which Gaone wasn’t aware of. Gaone had never really known much about his secret life. It killed him to think that she couldn’t have a child.

  So he secretly married Nomsa. He’d bought her, really. She was only fifteen at the time, but with the amount of money he owned, he could buy anything he wanted. And he could buy people’s silence. There was no proper wedding. Her family was poor. He had approached the family — husband and wife — and told them that he liked their daughter and wanted to marry her. They were shocked and called him all sorts of names, threatening to report him to the police for going around looking to get married to minors. They had said he should do things the proper way, send his uncles to come and ask for permission for him to marry her. He had told them he didn’t want to.

  But that was before they knew who he was. After he explained, the old man nearly fainted. He apologized and begged The Boss to forgive him and not cast as spell on him. People, even those that had never heard of him, knew what a powerful traditional doctor he was.

  He offered to give them a hundred cattle, both as payment for the fifteen year old girl and for their silence. Now she was twenty-eight and had turned into a woman with all the curves in the right place.

  He loved farming. He believed he was the richest farmer around this area. And he had power. He could get anything he wanted. And could get anyone to do anything he wanted. He kept her at the farm. Sometimes she got a little jealous when he had to go to Tsebeyatonki but a man has got to do what he has got to do.

  He loved evenings. He liked farm life. He liked the sounds of cowbells, the smell of beast urine, and the
smell of dung. That was farm life. So peaceful.

  The sun had just dipped over the horizon and he was now sitting by the fire with one of his mistresses. Supper was simmering in two pots sitting by the fire. He was eating maize meal served with chicken and chomolier, his favourite. He had a garden where he grew his own vegetables, just by his yard.

  His libido was insatiable. Once he thought he couldn’t get it up, and he went to see the doctor. The doctor gave him Viagra. He never looked back. It stayed in his system longer than he wanted though. He had taken it three days ago, and right now he couldn’t stop thinking about sex. It would be nice if he were in Lentsweng or Gaborone because then he could get one of the young sweet things up there. He had a mistress a few kilometres away that he had built a nice little house for, but he didn’t feel like driving right now. Besides, his other mistress was here to take care of his sexual appetite.

  He was just about to open his mouth and suggest they have a quickie after supper when his cell phone rang.

  Damon was shaking like a leaf. His heart was pounding. The fear was at him. Fear of The Boss.

  What The Boss would do to him when he realised Damon had betrayed him.

  The Boss was going to get arrested, together with Damon of course. He wasn’t worried about what The Boss would to him physically, no. The Boss didn’t work that way. He used powers. Spells. He could cast a spell that would make Damon’s stay in prison living hell. He half-hoped the phone would ring out so…

  “Hello!” The Boss said in his gravelly voice.

  Damon’s mouth went dry. A lump sprung to his throat and he felt like he was going to choke.

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Damo…Dam…Damon.”

  “What phone are you calling me from?”

  Damon felt himself relax a bit.

  “I…I…am using an old SIM card.” He was surprised at how he was able to spin a yarn so easily. Usually he wasn’t this good.

  “An old SIM card? Why?”

  “Long story. I got the man.”

  “Which man?”

  “The young man that you wanted brought to you.”

  “Good news!”

 

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