by Steve Reeder
“I hear you, corporal, but I’m going to call the SAP.”
“Sarge, why don’t we go call on the boys in the flat, and if Freeman is there then we can hold them all, and wait for the civilian guys to come arrest Freeman before we take the others in?”
“We only got this far this quickly because of that tip from the SAP. I don’t want to piss them off.” He fell silent and thought about it for a while. “But Ja OK, let’s do that.”
Unseen by the two army cops, the big figure of John Smit crossed the street and entered the corner café. As they climbed the stairs to the first floor and headed towards the flat rented by Charles Cole, the big man was returning with two litres of fresh milk and a half dozen bread roles.
“Steff,” Cole called out.
“What?” Steffen poked his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand.
“Go upstairs and get Sean back here. I don’t care how much fun he’s having.”
Steffen dropped the toothbrush in the sink and smiled at the prospect of pulling Reece off of a woman. Laughing quietly to himself he jogged down the landing to the stairway and up a single flight to the second level.
“Once we get Sean back, and Smitty gets back too, we’ll have to sort out a change of plans,” Cole said to Franz. “I think that we should go now, leave this morning I mean, and wait somewhere else until tomorrow morning. Just in case, you know.”
Franz nodded his agreement but said nothing until Steffen appeared in the doorway.
“Where’s Sean? Is he coming?” Franz asked.
“We may have a problem,” Steffen said nervously. “The chick up stairs says she hasn’t seen Sean since Thursday evening. She had a friend of hers come and visit and Sean took this bird home and never came back. The chick up stairs is not happy, I’ll tell you!”
Behind Steffen someone knocked loudly on the door and it sounded like trouble.
Reece disentangled himself from the arms of his latest conquest. The small alarm clock on the bedside cabinet let him know how late it was. Even as he watched, it clicked over to ten-thirty; Saturday morning.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “The guys are going to be seriously pissed off at me.”
“What did you say, Darling,” the naked woman asked as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched, reminding Reece of a cat. “Don’t go.” She reached up and slid her hand up his inner thigh, reaching for his partly erect penis.
He gently removed her hand and stood up. “I’ve got to get going, Babe. My friends are going be a bit annoyed at me as it is. I should have been back at Charlie’s place yesterday afternoon.”
“But your friends aren’t going to suck you off, are they?” she smiled. “Come back and I’ll show you - ”
“Perhaps another time,” he said less gently. “Get up and make some coffee while I hit the shower, OK?”
She sulkily dragged herself out of the bed, making sure he got the total effect of her full, ripe breasts but when he didn’t respond she sighed dramatically and headed for the kitchen.
When Reece came through to the kitchen fifteen minutes later, dressed except for his shirt, she was leaning against the kitchen counter sipping coffee from a bright green mug. A second mug, a bright blue one, stood on the counter behind her, steam rising lazily and drifting towards the near-by open window. To get to the coffee he was going to have to reach around her. She smiled invitingly at him. She was also wearing nothing but his shirt. His wrist-watch read eleven-forty. Shit!
The RZ 350 Yamaha was the perfect vehicle for the return trip that Reece needed to make; travelling quickly down the back roads where he’d be less likely to be seen by friends or anyone else who knew him. Finally he stopped the motorbike two streets from Cole’s flat and left it on the side-stand. He had already decided that abandoning the machine was inevitable. The walk up the slight hill brought him to the corner café across the street from the block of flats and he stopped for a couple of two litre cokes and a few large packets of crisps, knowing all the while that these were just a peace offering to deflect the wrath that he was about to face, especially from Cole and Franz. “Coward,” he muttered to himself as he paid for the purchases.
“Excuse me?” the Greek owner behind the till said.
“Sorry, I was just talking to myself.”
“Oh, OK.” The man handed him a handful of change. “I wonder what has been going on across the street.”
Reece frowned at him. “What? Where?”
“At those flats across the road: There was several police vans parked out back and another at the front entrance for most of the morning, but I see just one there now.”
Reece tried to ignore the cold lump of panic that had suddenly formed in his gut. He nodded a farewell to the shop’s proprietor and walked out onto the pavement. There was indeed an SAP van parked in front of the rear entrance to the flats. His eyes flicked up to the first floor landing but there was nothing to see. After a moment of panic it occurred to him that that standing there staring at the building would look conspicuous, especially if the cops were looking for him too, and he was going to have to move. How the hell had the civilian police got involved? Across the road one of the cops came out onto the landing and lit a smoke, leaned on the concrete baluster and looked down with a bored expression. Reece turned and as casually as he could he began to walk away down the hill, towards the main street.
Where were the others? What had gone wrong? Reece knew the army and how it worked and there was just no way that the MPs would have given them a second thought for at least a week. They would have let the regiment phone around to friends and family to trace the missing soldiers first, hoping that it was just a case of young men over-doing a two week pass. But the involvement of South African Police made this something different and was going to require some careful thought.
An hour later Reece opened the second of the coke bottles and emptied the remains of the first of the crisps bags into his mouth. He was sitting on a public bench in front of the post office, two hundred metres from the front entrance to the flats. From behind the small trees that the council had planted on the side-walks he could see the police van still parked outside the flats. Nothing moved in or out of the block. Round and round in his head the possibilities circled until he accepted the inevitable idea that he was going to either have to walk away and return to base and abandon his mates, accepting the trouble that he would be in with the regiment, or he was going to have to go and find out what happened, and he had a feeling that might be the more risky option.
He placed the empty coke bottles in the nearest rubbish bin along with the second, unfinished crisp packet, and began the long walk back up the street, his clammy hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn jeans.
To begin with, he crossed the street to the same side as the flats, knowing that he would be less visible to anyone looking out from Cole’s flat, and decided that the rear entrance was a better idea. The same van was parked in the same spot. What did that mean? He wasn’t sure. There had been three or more earlier according to the Greek. What did that mean; what could it mean except that they had needed three vans to load at least six prisoners, but if the others had been picked up then why this van? They were either waiting for him, and therefore knew about him and that meant that the MPs were involved as well as the cops, or something terrible had happened and the flat was now an active crime scene that needed to be guarded.
Reece reached the rear entrance to the flats and stealthily climbed the stairs to the second floor.
“What are you doing here?”
When Monica had opened the door her first reaction was surprise followed swiftly by anger and a stinging slap to Reece’s cheek. It was always going to be a bit embarrassing running into her again, he had just hoped that it would not happen, but then realised that if was going to find out what had happened to his companions then she might have been best placed to hear.
“Sean I should scratch your eyes out!” she spat, her pretty face contorted
with anger.
“Hi, Monica. I’m sorry to bother you and I’m sorry about the other day, but something came up,” he said calmly while rubbing his cheek.
“Oh I know what came up, it’s always coming up every time you see a woman, but this time my friend – ex-friend – climbed right on it and rode you away!”
Sean gently urged her inside and closed her door. When she began to object he pushed her against the wall and stilled the next words with a rough kiss, holding her struggling body until she began to respond. Finally her tongue began to curl around his, then darting into his mouth. When her body moulded itself against him and he knew that he had won her over again.
Breaking away he held her at arm’s length. “Monica, my friends from downstairs - they seem to have disappeared and been replaced with a couple of policemen. Do you know what happened?”
“Sean, why did you leave me for that slut? Wasn’t I pleasing you?” she asked sulkily.
“Monica, focus please! What happened to the guys downstairs?”
“That’s the only reason you came back, isn’t it!”
He bit back a retort – yes, of course it is you silly cow – and smiled instead. “Babes, of course not, I’m just worried about my friends. You can see why, can’t you? With the cops and all?”
Monica turned away and steeped towards the living room. The zipper on the side of her dress came down with the smallest of tugs and when she slipped the catch behind her neck the dress simply slid the floor. She turned and faced Reece again. She had been naked beneath the dress, now she was simply naked.
Reece followed her, instinctively reaching for her beasts before stopping himself. “Monica . . . Look, I really need to know what happened to my friends.”
She slid her hands across his chest and smiled seductively. “Later, Seany, we can talk about them later.” She raised her head, looking for a kiss.
Reece grabbed her arms and forced them behind her back, but this just made her smoulder more so he let go and retreated into the living room. “Please, I need you to understand - ”
“Oh all right!” she snapped at him. “I’ll go and find out what happened to those silly boys.” She stepped back into the dress and fastened it behind her neck. “But then you are going to satisfy me like you never did to that hussy!”
Reece was still wide awake at midnight. Monica was asleep, her head resting on his chest, with a smile of satisfaction still playing on her lips. Reece was anything but satisfied and the chances of him falling asleep were remote. What Monica had found out from her trip down below hadn’t helped him at all. Yes, the SAP had arrived and there had apparently been two or more military police there too at one time, but either the two constables holding the fort in Cole’s abandoned flat didn’t know what went down earlier or they were under orders not to say. Whichever way he looked at it, Reece was no closer to the truth than he had been before. All he knew was that the others were gone and he had no way of contacting them. And what was she had said about two military policemen being assaulted?
He glanced at his wrist-watch again. “Fuck!” he muttered. It was ten minutes past midnight. He could delay making a decision no longer. Carefully he slipped out of the bed, lying Monica’s head gently on her pillow, and taking his clothes through to the living room before he began to dress. The idea of spending two months in a detention barracks was not pleasant, but he couldn’t see any other alternative. And then there was always the chance that, if the others were in police custody for something, he might be hauled off to jail too. He just wished he knew what had gone wrong. He closed the door silently behind him and crept down the stairs. There was still a light shining in Cole’s flat as he passed the first floor.
The RZ 350 was where he’d left it, which was somewhat surprising as he’d left the key in the ignition. The motor fired first kick and sounded loud and intrusive in the stillness of the night causing three dogs to bark their displeasure at him. From the suburbs of Edenvale he had two choices, he could hit the N3 highway and travel north to join the N1 and then through to the vast military bases on the out-skirts of Pretoria, or he could wind his way through the back roads and hit the N1 just past Halfway House – which some people were starting to call Midrand City now. He decided that the back roads were a better idea and set off as quietly as he could. Forty minutes back to base and an uncertain few weeks ahead.
“Fuck,” he muttered more forcefully.
Twenty One
September. Midrand City.
“Charlie,” something nudged his ribs non-too gently. “It’s time.”
Cole opened his eyes before Franz could poke him again. “Yeah, all right, I’m awake.” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked over his left shoulder. Steffen and Bomber were still asleep on the rear seat of the Cortina. “You wake these two up and I’ll get the other two sleeping-beauties up and about,” he told Franz.
John Smit’s Datsun 120Y was parked behind the Cortina with its bonnet half buried in a small hedge. Cole looked about him; the sun was perhaps forty minutes from breaking the Eastern horizon and there was a pale light in the sky already. All around him birds were greeting the new day with enthusiasm and vigour. They made Cole feel old. He thumped lightly on the driver’s window of the Datsun and left the two soldiers to sort themselves out. From the boot of the Cortina he removed a suitcase and a small sports bag. The bag held a two litre water-bottle, toothpaste and a tooth-brush. As cleaned himself up the others were doing whatever they needed to do for the task ahead. They had all had a close shave before leaving the flat and it would have to do. Only Smit was already showing a five o’clock shadow. Once Cole was finished he opened the suitcase and took out the black suit, dark blue tie and long-sleeved shirt. The brightly polished black shoes came next. By the time he was dressed the others were waiting. He studied them for a moment. “You know, you lot look just about right for engineering guys,” he told them with an attempt at humour. “Let’s go and see if we can pull this off, shall we?”
The sun was on the point of declaring itself to the new day. Both of the cars were parked across the small roadway opposite the Eskom premises on the Grand Central Airport ground. Freeman and Smit unloaded the six heavy sports bags from the boot and back seat of the Datsun and the soldiers stood looking at the hangers belonging to Eskom that stood large and imposing alongside their small suite of offices. From the road into the airport Cole could see the office door was still shut but a pedestrian doorway into the hanger was open. There was, he knew from his previous visits, a door from the offices into the hanger and of course the main doors leading onto the taxiways and the aprons would be open by now too. As the six men approached the entrance to the hanger Cole could hear several people talking from within and then an engine burst into life out of the apron.
Before they entered the hanger Cole stopped them. “Now remember, guys. Relax and try to look like you are going about your lawful business but try to look like you’re up and about earlier than you usually would be, and might not to be talkative.” He studied them for a second, and decided that they looked the part. “Just leave the talking to me. I’m the young executive who is taking you guys, the engineers, to that new power station. Steff, I’ll find out which plane we can take and you go do your pilot stuff; act naturally and everyone will assume that we are just another bunch of workers having to go somewhere urgently.”
“By the sound of it,” Bomber said, “There is at least one plane taking off already.”
“Right,” Cole continued, “and if it goes to pot, I’ll get my gun out and wave it around, while you lot get your arses onto a plane.”
Before Franz could add to this, someone was at the door and shouting to them. “Mr Jarvis,” the man cried, “There you are, I’d almost given up on you. Come on, your aircraft is ready.”
The six of them stared at the bespectacled figure in astonishment. “What the . . . ” Freeman began to ask. Apart from the over-sized pear-shaped spectacles and a golf cap with Eskom emblazon
ed across the peak, they couldn’t make out his features.
“Shh - come on,” Franz told them, and led the way. “I don’t know who he is but this might make things easier than expected. And we’d better take advantage in case they are expecting another party.”
“He looks a bit familiar to me,” Bomber muttered.
“Mr Jarvis? I’m Daniels,” the man told them with a crooked smile. “This is Botha,” he indicated the man standing close by with a clipboard in hand. “He’s the manager on duty this morning, for his sins,” he broke into a whiney laugh, “Not a good time to be at work is it?” he asked Botha. “But let’s not keep him from a cup of much-needed coffee, shall we?” He took the clipboard from Botha’s hands and handed it to Cole. “If you would just sign for the aircraft, Mr Jarvis, I’ve got the men to sort it all out.” He pointed to a blue and white twin-engine aircraft standing out front of the hanger doors. “That’s the one your pilot chappy will be flying. It’s already fuelled and checked - But I guess you flying chaps will need to do your own inspection, Hmm?” he asked Steffen, who nodded and didn’t quite manage not to grin at ‘Daniels’. “By the way,” Daniels said suddenly. “I am due to fly back to the power station with you. Hope you don’t mind?” Steffen shook his head and headed for the aircraft, a bemused smile on his face.
Cole scribbled a signature where Botha pointed and handed the clipboard back with thanks. Botha nodded, checked the paper and headed back towards the offices. Cole spoke urgently into Bomber’s ear and pointed at the office. Bomber nodded and trailed after Botha while the rest of them moved towards the aircraft. Once the two of them were out of sight, Cole glared at Reece. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Actually, I was passing this place in the wee hours and thought to myself, ‘hey, what if those clowns turn up after all!’ And then it seemed like a good idea if I got a plane sorted out just in case you did, so . . .” Reece followed Cole out towards the aircraft. “What happened at your place?”
