Night hated politics, he hated gossip even more.
“No idea and I couldn’t care.”
“He’s with our president. Boarding planes” the Colonel then snorted seemingly irritated by her own words.
“That’s none of my business, Colonel.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Captain. But apparently Amos thinks it’s time that sort of thing did become your business. Anyway, the reason you are here: I want to offer you another way, a different route.”
“I’m not sure what exactly it is you are talking about, Colonel but I’m all ears.”
“I want you to stay at Norwood and head up our Crime Prevention Division. And as head of the Norwood CPD you will also become head of the newly formed Cluster CPD, which will include Sandringham, Bramley and Rosebank stations – you’ll effectively have all of the active duty patrol officers and vehicles under your command.”
“I don’t know what to say except thank you but no thank you, Colonel. I only have my rank as Captain because the General has a position earmarked for me, it may even be dependent on me taking that position. So I’m afraid all I can do is say thanks, but no thanks.”
“The offer is there, it’s on the table and will be until the end of next week. I’m sure by that time you will have made up your own mind, until then I expect you to get on with your duties, the student constables need on-the-road training and you’re the best man for the job. Now, good day, Captain.”
Night left the Station Commander’s office in an even more confused state of mind than when he had entered it. On top of trying to work out his standing with his fiancé he now had to determine his future at work.
Head down and walking without much conscious thought on the action Night ambled straight into a large police officer standing at the exit of the police station.
“Watch it, buddy!” said the police officer.
Night now awoken from his thought filled wonder by the double wake up looked up into the face of the man at least a full head taller than himself.
“Zulu, you black bastard, what the hell are you doing here?”
Daniel Shaka’s large chest moved up and down as he laughed a hearty laugh.
“Cappy, I’m the one who phoned you, remember!?”
“Ah, of course.. that phone call seems like ages ago now.. but my question still stands, what are you doing here so early? We’re not back on shift until tomorrow?”
“I came to check on The Beast and to take her to the garage and ask the mechanics to give her a once over, then if she’s all good I’m going to take her to the car wash to get her all nice and clean.”
“Sounds like a plan, I’ll come with you and then you’ll join me to go see Wamba?”
“Of course. What time are you meeting Lisa and her family at the vets?”
Night’s head went down involuntarily and he squeezed past his friend.
“They’re not coming. Let’s go get November Whisky Fifty, shall we?”
Shaka followed his friend to the parking space allocated for their patrol vehicle affectionately known as The Beast, a large double cab V6 4.0 Litre Pick Up truck.
“What the fuck!” said Zulu.
“What, boet?”
“She’s been moved!!”
“How the hell would you know that?”
“I always park with less space on your side and more on mine, like this see.”
“Ah, I’ve never noticed that.”
The Sergeant produced the vehicle’s keys that he had just signed out of the stations safe and opened the automobile.
“And look! Some midget has been driving her!”
Night opened the passenger side door, got in and peered across at the seat.
“You mean a normal sized person has been driving her..”
The unmistakable sound of a patrol torch scraping against brick caught both police officer’s attention and they both briefly caught sight of a young officer sticking his head back in a station window and disappearing within.
“I’ll fucking break his little twig of a neck! Did you see who it was, Mike?”
“No” lied the Captain. “Anyway, Zulu. It doesn’t matter, man. You can’t expect a good, in fact, very good state vehicle to just stand unused, collecting dust, in the station for two weeks just because we have claimed it as our own.”
“Yes. I. Can. She’s mine!”
The Sergeant eventually calmed down enough to get into the vehicle and readjusted the seat to fit his large frame, nearly ripping it out of its rails in the process. November Whisky Fifty was not Daniel Shaka’s, or the Black Bastards’ vehicle. In fact unlike other countries’ police forces around the world South African State-owned police vehicles were not assigned to police officers specifically but rather stations and then divisions and then even perhaps specific shifts but never just to one driver; there simply weren’t enough vehicles to go around. Only on occasion Commissioned Officers could specifically be assigned a state vehicle. But no one wanted to take on, the at the time constable Daniel Shaka, on the matter. Even Night had tried to talk to him but the man was adamant “I don’t want other people’s weak energy in my car, I don’t demand much from this job, Mike, but The Beast is MINE.”
“Let’s get something to eat, I’m famished” said Night, turning the subject to something he knew would lighten his friends mood.
“Good idea, Mikey. I’m bloody starving, I haven’t eaten since breakfast!” said the giant without a trace of irony.
Night checked his watch and confirmed to himself that it was in fact still just after 8 am and then rolled his eyes and buckled up.
Chapter Seven
Norwood Vet
Night couldn’t quite believe just how nervous he was standing in the waiting room of Michelle Fisher’s veterinary practice. She was obviously a very popular vet and so her waiting room was always busy. Night’s palms were sweaty and he felt far too warm for the comfortable morning climate. His heart was working harder than it should be. Mercifully he and Daniel didn’t have to wait long.
“Michael Night, it’s about bloody time you got here!” said a high pitched voice from somewhere behind a number of people standing in line with their sick or injured animals. Night knew where to look for the origin of the voice, down. He found the minute Fisher standing at just five foot and two inches tall. Her curly blonde hair even longer and more wild than Night had remembered it. She walked straight up to him and poked him in the chest while staring accusingly at him through her spectacles that were clearly two sizes to big for her small features.
“Where have you been, mister!? I thought you got back to Joburg yesterday morning?”
But before Night could reply and mention the engagement he had been in the day of his arrival she was walking back to her consultation room and signaled for the men to follow.
“Before you see him, Michael, I want you to think about what’s kinder for him, not you, do you understand?”
“Of course, Doc” said Night softly.
“And who are you?” demanded the vet while arching her neck around and up to look into the face of the huge Sergeant while waving an accusatory finger.
“Me” said an indignant Shaka while indicating himself with a thumb to his chest “I am his black father!”
“Oh, okay, that’s fine then. I suppose Wamba can have two dads. Step inside gentlemen.”
Moments later and the two officers stood in front of the examination table as Dr Fisher brought out a case file and quickly scanned over the notes, she then looked at Night, removed her glasses and leaned back against a high table in her office.
“Michael, in my professional opinion Wamba should be put to sleep.”
The vet’s words hit Night like an axe to the face. He felt light headed and was lost for words.
“Why do you say that?” asked Shaka.
“I say that because he has been almost non responsive for the last two weeks and hasn’t responded to any treatment or physical coaxing in all that time. Basicall
y I believe he may have suffered brain damage and serious organ failure from the poison. He’s also lost weight, a lot of weight.”
“So he is alive right now?”
“Well, yes. At least his body is.”
“That’s fine. Then he is not dead yet, please can we have him?” said Shaka.
“What do you mean can you have him?”
“That’s exactly what I mean, doctor vet, can we have our boy please?”
“No. You can not just have him!”
‘Listen here, little woman, give us Wamba!”
“How dare you!”
“Wait! Both of you be quiet for one second, please” said Night in a sterner voice than he had anticipated. “Dr, is he hooked up to some machine that is keeping him alive?”
“No. But he is on a drip for fluid, and without that, he will probably slowly die.”
“So then if you take the drips out of him how much longer will he live without it?” asked Shaka.
Night looked at his friend sideways.
“As long as it takes any being, you included, young man, to die without any food or water.”
“So we have time, let’s get him, Mike. I want to take him somewhere.”
“Where, what are you up to, Zulu?”
“Trust me, brother. My people know about animals. More than white people’s medicine.”
“‘Your people’, ‘white people’s medicine’, you sound bloody racist? Or like you’re an alien? What have you got planned?”
“Just trust me, Mike.”
“I have no idea what you two are talking about but I won’t let you just take that dog anywhere!”
“Whoa, whoa, relax, both of you. We’re all getting ahead of ourselves. All I want is to see my boy, then I will decide, after being with and seeing my boy, what we do next. Now, may you please take me to my dog, Dr?”
‘Fine, but he stays here!” said the petite vet while leering at Wamba’s black father.
Shaka moved to complain but Night put a hand on his shoulder and said: “Please, my brother, let me see the little guy first, I just want to be alone with him for a while, you know, so I can think about things and decide..”
“There’s nothing to decide, Michael, if you take him away from here he will just waste away and die!!”
“For the love of god, ENOUGH! Please just take me to him and let me be with him and think!”
The vet just stood and glared first at Daniel Shaka and then at Night. She then opened the back door to her consulting room and called for one of her assistants. Moments later and a young and stick-thin man dressed in blue overalls came into the room.
“Monday, take this man to see Wamba” she said while pointing at Night. “And you, young man, go and wait outside” she nodded at Shaka. “I have other patients to see while you say goodbye, Michael.” And with that she manhandled the large Sergeant through the door and into the waiting room and called for her next patient.
Night followed Monday through the door and into a long and narrow corridor.
“You know where I come from I never thought it would be possible for a little white women to push a very large black man through any door” said Monday with a giggle.
Night almost managed to laugh. “Ja, she’s a firecracker that’s for sure. But I suppose she has to be..”
“Yes, not very good with humans but she loves the animals and they love her.”
Night was surprised to see that Monday led him past the doors to the kennels where he knew the in-patients were usually kept.
“Where are we going, Monday, I thought the kennels were back there?”
“Ja, they are, but we had to put Wamba out back in one of the unused storage rooms. He was too big to be comfortable in the kennels and he also scared the shit out of the other dogs, hey.”
Monday opened a back door and the men stepped out into bright South African sunlight and into a high walled back yard that was home to three small outhouses. Night recognised them as being the typical maids’ quarters.
“That one is mine, the middle one is the cleaners and that one on the right is Wambas.”
“Why were the other dogs scared of my little guy, how could they be?”
“Little guy my foot!” said Monday to himself while shaking his head and then reached the door, held it open and gestured for Night to enter while saying,
“He growls, in his sleep, sometimes he growls while dreaming and it scares the crap out of the other dogs.”
Night entered the room, heard Monday close the door behind him and walk away, and was pleased to feel that it was warm but not hot and had a sufficient amount of sunlight and fresh air coming through the window without being overpowering. He walked past some papers and boxes stacked almost from the floor to the ceiling and reached the end of the space to see his beautiful boy lying across two large mattresses. He had a set of tubes connected to his body, one serving him life giving water and the other nutrients. There was a large uneaten bowl of food and an untouched bowl of water next to the dog. Night had to hold his breath as he took in the image of his loyal hound. The Boerboel, originally bred to protect farm animals from African predators, was a ghost of himself and his ribs were almost visible. Wamba’s leanness was accentuated by his massive head.
Night knelt next to Wamba and put his head on the animal’s large chest and just listened to him breathing and to his heart beat. Night’s head rose and fell in time with the Boerboel’s breathing. And without conscious thought Night began to cry. In fact he began to sob.
Sometime later Night opened his eyes and noticed with some surprise that Wamba’s chest was now soaked in tears. Night had wept more in the past few moments than he had ever done in his life. He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes.
“My beautiful boy, don’t leave me. Come back, there is still so much for us to do together.”
Night then moved up to look into the dog’s face and gently scratched at his ears and then stroked its large forehead.
“I’m here my boy, your dad is here, talk to me, my boy.”
But Wamba didn’t move or make any sound other than that of his breathing.
Night pulled himself up and sat on his knees still stroking his boy. He felt terribly alone. A new wave of sadness and despair took hold and Night let out an audible cry and began to gush with tears once more. Night realised that Wamba was a whole lot more to him than just a friend or a companion. Somehow Wamba was a part of Night’s soul. The two beings were connected. In mind and in spirit and with absolute certainty Night knew that Wamba was not done, not yet. Night got to his feet and walked to the door ready to tell the eccentric vet that they were indeed going to take Wamba home or to wherever Shaka had in mind. Night had heard stories about the Zulu’s medicine for animals and at this point he was open to any possibility to bring his dog back.
Night opened the door and was surprised to see Shaka standing right outside talking to Monday.
“What are you two doing?”
“Monday is a cousin of mine, Mike and we’re ready if you are?”
“Ready for what?”
“To take Wamba to our people to be healed” said Monday with an astonishing grin.
Shaka then explained that Monday was a distant cousin of his and that he was going to help them get Wamba into the back of their vehicle that Shaka had pulled to the rear of the property and that stood waiting for them with the engine idling.
Night looked through an open perimeter wall and saw the marked police vehicle parked just beyond it on the street with the doors to the prisoner cell left open.
“We’ll move him with everything still connected. Once you get there the elders and the doctor can remove them and will know what to do” said Monday.
Some time later and the police vehicle was on the N17 highway and moving at some speed to a destination yet unknown to Night. He noted with some pride in his heart that Zulu was using the blue lights and sirens to get through some of the heavier traffic and red traffic lights.
Zulu had insisted on carrying Wamba to the vehicle, something that only the large Sergeant was capable of comfortably doing while the Boerboel was at his full weight. Night saw the look of shock in his friend’s face as he saw just how thin the great beast was although he had done his best to hide his shock. Monday had told Night not to worry about Michelle’s reaction to Wamba being taken and that he would explain that he was going to see some other ‘Zulu Doctors’.
They were about an hour into the journey when Night put his head next to Wamba’s and he soon drifted of into an uneasy sleep.
Some time later and the low rumble of thunder startled Night and he quickly opened his eyes and raised his head and was disorientated for a moment until he realised where he was. He looked at his wrist watch and saw that he had been asleep for just under an hour and then made to look out of one of the two barred windows to look at the storm clouds that were surely above and around them as they drove. He was then surprised to find no clouds and no storm system but a perfectly sunny South African day.
The low rumble of thunder caught his attention once more and he turned to look at the source of the sound. It wasn’t thunder. It was Wamba and Night felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention as though the Commander of the South African Police Force had just made an unexpected station visit.
“Jesus, boy! No wonder you were scaring the other animals.”
Night had heard Wamba growl in his sleep before but never like this. Whatever demons the dog was battling in his mind must be of considerable power. Night put his hand on his friend’s head and began to comfort him.
“That’s good my boy, don’t stop fighting, give them hell!”
A few minutes later and November Whisky Fifty left the tarred highway and turned onto a wild dirt road leading into what looked to Night to be a large farming community. He could see a collection of Rondavels or round shaped Zulu huts. They passed a collection of cows as they pulled up to the entrance to a large farm building.
Night In London (Night Series Book 2) Page 9
