As the police officers entered the tavern the smell of stale beer, Marijuana, sweat and semen assailed their senses and as their adrenaline kicked in time slowed.
The only light in the establishment was coming from a small bulb crudely electrified via a car battery. The tavern was so poorly lit that visibility was restricted to only a few feet in front of each man and the officers almost collided with a broken snooker table which had been hastily thrown in front of the door.
Kalahari carefully led the stack around the obstacle and then each man broke off to take on whatever threat lay before him.
Kalahari went left with his shotgun raised and noticed a door to the back of the premises open and two men exit as daylight flooded in from it. As he was about to alert the other men to the fleeing suspects another man jumped out at him from behind a table with a pool cue in his hand ready to strike. Kalahari raised the front of his shotgun and brought the butt of the weapon forward and up smashing it into the suspect’s face, breaking his nose and rendering him unconscious. He brought the weapon to its original position an instant later.
“One suspect down!”
Night had broken off from Kalahari’s lead and moved off to the right of him, he noticed a back door open and two suspects leave and from the corner of his eye saw a man run at him with a knife raised in the air, before the man could bring the weapon down onto him Night turned to face the threat and raised his right leg and kicked the man square in the chest, sending him thudding into the wall behind him, the back of his head hitting a shelf’s sharp edge, causing him to black out. The knife fell harmlessly from his hand as he crumpled to the floor.
Night stood over the man’s body, kicked the knife away and scanned the rest of the room for any threats.
“Suspect down!”
Sahara saw Kalahari break left and Night break right and each engage a suspect. Sahara charged forward, through them, with his Heckler and Koch USP 9MM drawn, locked and loaded and discerned three men crouched over a struggling woman in a far corner of the shebeen. As he got closer he was able to see that two of the men were holding the woman down while the third was directly on top of her with his pants down, he was thrusting forward and back. Sahara knew the large Zulu was still behind him as he still felt his hand on his shoulder. The two men holding the woman down now took note of the police officers coming towards them and each stood taking up fighting positions with their fists balled up and ready to fight. Seeing that they were both unarmed Sahara holstered his weapon.
“Come on then you dirty bloody bastards!”
He put his head down and charged at the two rapists rugby tackling each man with either of his arms, clothes-lining, both of them by the neck. The two drunk and high criminals didn’t stand a chance as their heads snapped up towards the ceiling and their legs gave way from under them, both hit the floor hard and the police Sergeant then picked them up, turned them around one on top of the other and held them in place with his boot.
“Two suspects down!”
Sergeant Shaka stayed with Sahara as they noticed the three men on top of the woman. He waited until Sahara had charged at the two men who had stood to fight and took a running start at the man still on top of the defenceless woman and kicked the man hard under the rib cage, he felt them crack under his onslaught as the man was lifted off the woman and onto the floor beside her. He rolled a couple of times before coming to a stop and Shaka was on top of the man once more. The Sergeant picked the criminal up, under his arm-pits and thrust the rapist against the wall. He then took the man by the throat and began to pulverise the rapist’s face with huge over-hand blows.
“GUN!” shouted Night.
An instant later five shots rang out in quick succession.
Shaka turned to see who had fired and who had been the target only to see Kalahari and Sahara also looking around for the source of the gunfire before locking eyes with Night who then nodded towards their young student constable still standing in the doorway with his weapon raised and his barrel smoking.
“Dlamini just saved your life...”
Just then three tall camouflaged figures burst through either side of Dlamini and began to sweep the tavern.
“Clear!”
“Clear!”
“I have one man here, he’s dead by knife wound and by the rigor mortis already set in he’s been dead since late last night I would say” said Captain Sello Mbuyo from a far corner of ‘Takalani’s Beer ‘n’ Lager Paradise Bar, Restaurant and Barber’.
Night, Shaka and Dlamini stood behind the bar over the body of the owner of the shebeen. The man had crumpled to the floor on top of the shotgun he had pointed at Sergeant Shaka. Night turned the body over and took the man’s pulse – there was none.
“He’s gone.”
There was a fist sized cluster of five bullet wounds to the man’s chest.
“Nice shooting, Dlamini” said Shaka.
The student didn’t say anything but simply shrugged his shoulders.
“You saved my life, probably, thank you.”
“No problem, boss” and Dlamini walked away to retake his position at the door.
“Didn’t you have a shot, Mike?”
Night looked at his friend knowingly.
“Think I should have taken it first?”
Shaka shook his head “No, it’s good he’s got it out of the way. Now we’ll just have to watch the kid to see how he handles it…”
Night nodded knowing full well that the next few days and then weeks would be crucial for Steven Dlamini. Taking a life, even in the defence of others, is no easy thing. Some policemen can make sense of it in their minds and move on and others slowly crumble, either leaving the force or slowly retreat to first the charge office or a desk or turn to alcohol and other drugs and all too often end up taking their own lives. For the next few hours the student constable would be pumped full of adrenalin but as Night knew full well, V.O.D.E, would soon kick in. Dlamini’s demeanour the following morning would speak volumes and Night made a mental note to have a chat with him first thing over some strong coffee.
As Night turned to leave to assess the rest of the scene Shaka caught hold of his shoulder turning Night to face him.
“You had me covered though, right!?”
“Of course, brother! The boy fired a split second before I was going to squeeze the trigger, besides…” Night moved to the till where a folded piece of A4 paper was wedged under the register. He pulled the paper out and unfolded it. The words were written in Zulu. Night handed the paper to Shaka “What does it say?”
Sergeant Shaka scanned the letter and replied a few moments later.
“It’s a suicide note. Apparently this place was all he had. He blames the council…”
“So suicide by cop?”
“Looks that way, Mike.”
Some time later, once the victim was clothed and escorted from the scene to a police vehicle and then driven to a local hospital, the two Captains had gathered all the suspects in one area of the bar and had handcuffs on the accused and as Night was on the radio to control requesting all the relevant duty officers and specialists attend the scene, a student constable from another station appeared through the rear exit of the shebeen.
“Captain Night?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been told to tell you, sir, that you need to come and see this.”
Night turned to the Norwood Warrant Officer who was now standing beside him, finally satisfied that everything was under control in front of the bar on Louis Botha Avenue.
“How many men have we got outside?”
The Warrant Officer looked at Night and smiled. “Not sure, Cappy… our Norwood units are controlling access to the front but other than them, units from other stations… three dozen, maybe?”
Night nodded his understanding, proud of how the unspoken policemen’s code always ensured a huge response to any call for backup, regardless of rank, race, jurisdiction or station politics.
“G
ood. Take over for me in here and make sure nobody fucks up this crime scene, we have two dead bodies and a young student constable who is about to face his first murder docket. I’ll take my Sergeant and the STF men and deal with whatever is waiting for us outside, although I have a good idea of what we’ll find... Dlamini, only let in the duty detective, duty officers and crime scene investigators from this point on. You’ll have lots of interested cops who have just driven at breakneck speeds to get here who’ll want to get a look at the dead bodies – Don’t let them in, regardless of rank!”
Dlamini then held up his trusty pocket book which he would make anyone sign if they demanded to enter the crime scene or take over control of it.
“No problem, Captain. Nobody will get past me and my pocket book.”
Night turned to leave but stopped and looked back at his student.
“See, it was only a dream, good job, young man.”
Dlamini simply nodded and took up his position at the door with two police officers already trying to force their way around him.
As Night, Shaka, Kal and the STF men followed the young student constable out into daylight they all had to cover their eyes while they adjusted to the bright sunshine. They followed the young student through a warren of small pathways between the businesses fronting Louis Botha Avenue, rubbish littering their way while large rats scattered into gutters and small holes in the wall. They walked on another 50 metres until the high-pitched shrieks of two men pierced the air. They then turned into a small side street and Night saw a crowd of about a dozen people standing in a circle. It was at this point that the smell of burning flesh assailed Night’s senses, almost making him be sick. Night looked to the right of the crowd and saw a group of six police constables standing and watching the scene play out in front of them. As Night approached the men they all stood to attention and saluted. Night quickly returned the salute and the men stood easy once more.
“Did you send this shark to find me?”
“Yes, Captain. We heard everything over the radio and we knew your guys wouldn’t be able to find this place from Louis Botha so we came here and then sent the shark to lead you here.”
“Where are you from, which station?”
“We’re all from Bramley, Captain. We were waiting for our taxi to the station to book on for day shift, but it’s been delayed, then we heard the screams of these men. We called our station commander who said he is on his way…”
“So you got here too late, constable, to save these men?”
The constables looked at each other, some of them trying to hide their smiles, some of them not even making the effort.
“You could say that, Captain.”
“Surround that mob as I talk to them, understand?”
“Yes, Captain”
Night shook his head and walked to the crowd, parting them as he made his way to the front, Shaka and Kalahari at either side of him. The STF men hanging back seemingly uninterested in what was playing out in front of them. Night looked at the two suspects that had escaped the shebeen ten minutes earlier. They were both stripped naked and were on their knees and each man had a tyre around his neck that had been doused in petrol and set alight. The two female complainants that had called the police were standing in front of the men whipping their exposed genitals with tree branches as they burnt to death. Their screams died down to nothing as the flames melted their skin and the smoke from their own bodies and the rubber tires began to asphyxiate them. They were dead men, beyond salvation.
Night noticed Ali the shopkeeper swearing at the men as they died. The Norwood Captain un-holstered his 9MM sidearm and shot each man twice in the chest and once in the head instantly putting them out of their misery.
“You are all under arrest for murder! Resist and a further charge will be added to your dockets… and you will find that we are all in a very unforgiving mood, so come quietly.”
The mob turned to run but hesitated when they noticed the seven constables had blocked their exit.
“On the floor, all of you, hands behind your backs, NOW!”
Each man and woman was handcuffed and lined up, waiting for transport to Bramley police station for processing while fire extinguishers were called for.
Night and his crew chatted quietly while they waited for the Bramley Station Commander to arrive.
“You really shouldn’t have done that, Mike” said Kalahari “You’ve left yourself open to all sorts of shit now…”
“Perhaps, Warrant. But I couldn’t just stand there and watch those men burn to death in agony… not again.”
A sudden shift in the wind brought with it the stench of the burning corpses and Shaka fell to his knees and began to violently throw up. Night and Kalahari soon followed suit and all three veteran police officers retched their guts out onto the cold, dirty, floor.
Chapter Eighteen
Houghton, Johannesburg.
Later that evening.
Night poured himself another glass of Chocolate Block red wine while he waited in Amos Arosi’s living room. It was his second large glass and he was beginning to feel its effect. He had arrived at the General’s main residence an hour earlier after knocking off from duty and had yet to see his friend. The General had been otherwise occupied in his office since his arrival, Night had been welcomed by the housekeeper and shown to the living room after being admitted by the security staff, although he had refused to surrender his firearm. Night had noticed that the number of security personnel present on the property had doubled since his last visit.
Some time later and still dressed in his full police uniform, including his bullet proof vest and battle jacket, Night closed his eyes and began to drift off when the General’s voice surprised him nearly causing Night to drop his glass of wine on to the expensive carpet.
“After the day you’ve had, in fact after the week you’ve had, I’m sure you would like nothing more than to sleep for a week, my friend?”
Night sat up in his chair and drained the remainder of the glass.
“No, in fact, what I would like is another glass? If I may?”
The General raised an eyebrow but poured the remainder of the bottle into the Captain’s wineglass.
Arosi eased his large frame into a chair opposite the Captain after pouring himself a large glass of whisky.
“How’s Lisa, Mike?”
“She’s fine. She’s dumped me and preparing to leave for Cape Town with her parents.”
The General shifted uncomfortably in his chair before taking a healthy swig of his drink.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mike. Though not many women are able to be with men like us.”
“Men like us? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Police officers. And in such a violent and dangerous country, can you blame them?”
“I thought you’d be more supportive, perhaps even sympathetic to the news that the woman I love has decided I’m no good, General.”
“You won’t get any sympathy from me, Captain. You know well that I’ve always advocated for the police officers and contractors under my command to live a single life. It’s simpler, less complicated. And I learned that the hard way, after marriage and children!”
Night had to check himself as the anger in him began to build to a slow boil. Though he was experienced enough to know that the rage he was feeling had more to do with the day’s events than his fiancée leaving him for a possibly better, safer and less violent life. He could hardly blame her for that.
Sensing that his friend was searching for something to say in heated retort, something he might regret later, without alcohol clouding his judgment, the General ploughed on.
“And if it makes you feel any better the woman I loved, my former wife, and the woman I still love has just boarded a plane with my two children to England. And she refused to let me accompany her to the airport or say goodbye to my children as they left this country.”
Night instantly felt guilty about his own selfish th
oughts and worries.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Amos.”
An uncomfortable silence hung over the men as they both wallowed in their own pain until the housekeeper mercifully entered and announced that dinner would be served shortly.
“Thank you, Mavis. We’ll be along in a little while, the Captain and I just have to discuss something… please close the door behind you.”
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, Mike. But I was on the phone to the Bramley station commander…”
Night instinctively knew that the phone call was about him.
“And?”
“And you’ve put yourself in a world of shit, Mike.”
Night stood, finished his glass of wine and walked to the drinks cabinet and opened a small bottle of water, draining it in one draft.
“Why, Amos. Because I put two men out of their misery?”
“That may be. But you know as well as I do that’s not necessarily how the courts will see it. In fact the public defender assigned to the case defending the mob you arrested for carrying out their Kangaroo Court has demanded that the charge of murder be changed to one of assault GBH and that a separate case of murder be opened against you.”
Night turned to face the drinks cabinet once more and fished around until he found another bottle of something strong. He settled on a bottle of Tequila and dispensed himself a shot, downed it and poured himself another before retaking his seat.
“So that’s your plan, you’re going to drink your problems away?”
“Fuck off, Amos and live a day in my shoes.”
“No I won’t just fuck off while I watch you…”
“You weren’t there today, you didn’t see those thugs taking turns to rape a woman, you didn’t seem my naïve 19-year-old student kill a man, a man that wanted to die, you didn’t smell the flesh of those men being sizzled like steak on a barbecue while the crowd cheered in delight at the spectacle.. you didn’t…”
Night In London (Night Series Book 2) Page 21
