“No that's fine, I’ll sort that out.”
I wandered back through the house to the car and retrieved my luggage. When I got back into the room I plugged my laptop in to the wall socket immediately. The Land Cruiser was still parked where I had found it. I turned the taps on an old cast iron bath with clawed feet. As it ran I went outside and lit a cigarette. It had been a hectic few days. I was feeling a mixture of elation and mild exhaustion. The owner, Binks had seen me standing there and came to join me. We chatted about London briefly and the flight to South Africa.
“I have some cold beers, would you like one?” He asked.
“Absolutely!” was my reply.
He disappeared into the private section of the house and returned with two bottles of ice cold Castle Lager. It was a beer I hadn't tasted in many, many years and I savoured the cold bitterness as we drank. We spoke about Kalk Bay in general, where to eat and drink etc. He suggested a pub directly below the house near the harbour called The Brass Bell. It was known for excellent food. He invited me to accompany him later on for a few drinks and suggested we could both take a walk down. I told him I had a lot of work to do and some people to see but I may meet him later. He was a pleasant soft spoken Capetonian. A true beach bum. I felt welcome and was almost disappointed that I would only be staying for two nights.
As I went to my room for my bath I had to remind myself that this was a paying job and not a holiday. Before I jumped in the bath I checked my laptop and saw with relief that Richard was still parked a few blocks away at The Blueberry. It was 5.30pm by the time I was shaved and dressed. Richard’s car was still parked. Again it was decision time as to whether I should drive up to Walker Road and watch the car or wait for it to move first. I decided on the latter and went out onto the verandah to enjoy the early evening. Right on cue, Binks appeared with another two ice cold beers. We smoked and talked for the next hour with me making regular trips into the room to check the laptop.
At 6.30pm exactly I noticed with brief panic that the Land Cruiser was on the move again. I sat and watched it travel slowly up Walker Street and down towards the main road. It stopped after only five minutes and appeared to be parked directly below near the harbour. I made my apologies to Binks who was still on the verandah, packed my bag and went to the car. I made my way down the steep street towards the main road, the laptop sitting on the passenger seat to my left. Finding the Land Cruiser was my priority. I could wander around a bit once I had done that. As I got to the T junction at the main road I glanced at the screen again. The traffic on the main road was heavy. The Land Cruiser was right in front of me. I noticed an entrance to a car park on the opposite side of the road to my right. He must be parked in there. I waited for a gap in traffic, crossed the street and turned into the car park. There was a railway line not three metres away from me behind a balustrade wall. Beyond the tracks were glistening black boulders with waves pounding into them continuously. I put the laptop into the bag, locked the car and took a look around. Richard's car was parked thirty metres from me. I noticed a sign which read The Brass Bell mounted on the top of a pedestrian subway that went under the train tracks. On the other side was a raised building which hung over the waves. I looked around at my surroundings. There was a number of book shops on the other side of the street. In between these was what looked like a cafe restaurant. I decided to cross and check it out. It was a slightly scruffy but obviously popular establishment by the name of Guido’s. It had huge glass fronted windows that looked directly out onto the street and the car park beyond. Feeling some serious hunger pangs I decided to go inside and eat. I sat at a tiny table and was approached by a lady with dreadlocks and a head scarf. The place was buzzing with conversation and she was obviously busy.
She pointed at a huge blackboard on the far wall.
“Everything on the board is available sir, I can recommend the lasagne.”
“In that case, that's exactly what I'll have.”
“And to drink?”
“I'll have a Castle please.”
“Sure thing,” she said as she went off hurriedly.
I sat back and took in the hectic but enjoyable atmosphere. There was a lady on the next table with two young children. They were eating fresh mussels in cream sauce with bread and making a hell of a mess. No one seemed to mind. The music and conversation blared away as I sat. There was no point in opening the laptop as I could clearly see the entrance to the car park across the road. My food arrived. A huge portion with a salad which was excellent washed down with the cold beer. It was 8pm by the time I paid and made my way out into the now dark street. I decided to make a foray into The Brass Bell to have a look at what Richard was doing. I crossed the street and walked into the parking area. As I passed the Land Cruiser I could hear the waves crashing on the rocks to my right. I descended into the walkway that ran under the railway tracks. I came up onto the Kalk Bay station platform and saw the entrance to The Brass Bell pub to my right. It was a big place and there were a lot of people inside. This was good. I needed cover. There was a lively humdrum of noise as I walked into the pub. On the right, looking over the railway line towards the mountain was the bar while on the left the building stretched out over the sea. There were huge, mist-sprayed windows on all sides giving a 360 degree view of the lights of the moored fishing boats and the shops and houses that surrounded the bay. My eyes darted around the area looking for the tall figure of Richard. I found him sitting facing the bar, his back toward me. He was in conversation with a tall suntanned man with shaggy blonde hair. Directly behind the bar in front of them was a large brass bell which shone in the mellow lighting. I glanced to my right and saw an area near the far window which had some free space. It would afford me a great spot to sit and look out over the ocean while keeping an eye on Richard.
I sat down at a small table near the open window and I could feel the salt spray lightly on my face every now and then as the sea crashed on the rocks below. I ordered a beer from a waiter and settled in. Richard remained in his seat for the next half hour talking to his companion. They laughed and joked, smoked cigarettes, and ordered drinks including what looked like shots with whiskey chasers. It was a party night for young Richard.
The drive from the pub to his guest house was pretty much straight up the steep, quiet road across the street. There would be very little chance of being stopped by police for drink driving if he intended to go back there. Every now and then Richard would get up and head for the toilets. When he returned, his companion would do the same. It was as if they were two old friends catching up after some time apart, having a good time. Nothing unusual. Nothing exciting. Nothing to write home about. And so the game of cat and mouse continued into the night.
At 9.30pm, I noticed a man waving to me from the other side of the bar. It was Binks, the owner of the bed and breakfast where I was staying. I smiled and raised my hand in recognition. He motioned to me asking if I would like a beer. I gave him the thumbs up and he went about ordering before ambling towards me carrying two pints of beer.
“How are you doing?” he asked as he sat down.
“Well thanks, nice place,” I said as he passed me the glass.
“Yup, it's a famous pub. Been here a long long time.”
“Is it always this busy?” I asked.
“On the weekends it is, during the week it’s more of a local crowd and a bit more chilled out. The locals love this place, bit of an institution.”
“I can see why. It’s quite something,” I said. We chatted and drank for the hour with me keeping an eye on Richard and his drinking buddy. I could see the shots were coming thick and fast. Apart from the occasional trip to the toilet they were firmly ensconced in their increasingly animated conversation. At 11.30pm the barman called time by ringing the huge brass bell behind the bar. There was a groan from the crowd as they realised their time was up, and last rounds were called. It was at this point that I noticed Richard and his companion stand up.
They shook hands and clapped ea
ch other on the back, smiling and laughing. I could see that Richard was about to leave. I needed an excuse to do the same. I glanced at my watch and made as if I was late for an appointment.
“I have an important call coming through anytime now and I really need to catch up on some work. I’m gonna have to go Binks. Thanks for the beers. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“No problem Jason, see you later,” he said. Richard was already well out of the door and probably in the subway under the railway tracks when I picked up my bag and left the pub. I walked slowly not wanting to run into him. As I came out of the subway and into the car park I noticed that the Land Cruiser had gone from its space. I was acutely aware that both Richard and I were well over the limit for driving as I got into the Mercedes. I opened my laptop. To my relief the flashing blue light showed that Richard was indeed driving up the steep hill opposite me towards his guest house. I sat for five minutes watching the screen until I saw the light stop outside The Blueberry on Walker Road. I started the car and made my way out of the car park and across the now quiet street. Slowly I drove up the steep hill glancing every now and then at the screen. There was no movement. I was feeling pleasantly tired and I was sure Richard would be feeling the same way. With any luck he would be in for the night and I could do the same. I turned right and drove slowly down walker street. The Land Cruiser was parked where it had been in the afternoon. There was no movement and all was quiet. Slowly I made my way back to Binkie's Guest House, parked the car and walked to my room.
I pulled the table close to the bed, plugged in my computer and lay down on the duvet with my hands behind my head. I reflected on the hectic events of the last 24 hours as I lay watching the screen. It had been a success as far as doing my job went. I had followed my brief. I had flown half way around the world and watched him like a hawk. In a matter of minutes, I fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
At 6am exactly on Sunday morning my body clock clicked in as usual. Where the fuck am I? I thought as I opened my eyes and saw the unfamiliar room. In a split second it all came back to me. Heathrow. The flights. The car hire. The chase to Kalk Bay. The guest house. The Brass Bell. I had slept the entire night in the same position without moving or getting under the duvet. I could hear seagulls squalling overhead. Immediately I looked at my computer screen. It had gone black due to inactivity. I ran my finger across the mouse pad to revive it. A second later the screen showed and the reassuring flashing light of the tracking device in the Land Cruiser showed Richard was still at The Blueberry.
I stretched, got up, grabbed my cigarettes and walked out onto the balcony. In front of me Kalk Bay stretched out on either side. A feast of colour. Down in the harbour there was a hive of activity as the fishing boats made their way out to sea for the day. They bobbed up and down on the white crested waves as puffs of smoke bellowed from their engines.
To my left in the distance were the golden sands of Muizenberg beach. Below me, the pastel coloured houses showed pale in the morning light. There was a passenger train pulling out of Kalk Bay station going towards Cape Town. Above was a huge expanse of blue sky without a single cloud and a cool breeze blew in my face. I lit a smoke and lent on the railing gazing out at the spectacle. I could get used to this. There was a kettle and some coffee in my room, I boiled it and made a cup which I brought back out onto the verandah. My mind went to the task at hand. As I drank the coffee I wondered what the day would hold for Richard and myself. He only had 24 hours left in Cape Town and it still puzzled me why he would come all this way for such a short time. After my coffee, I ran a hot bath and lay in it for half an hour thinking about Richard and his globe trotting. I could see the screen of the computer through the open door to the bedroom. There was no movement. At around seven after I had dressed there was a knock on my door. A very bleary eyed Binks asking me what I would like for breakfast. I ordered a full English which he said he would serve on the verandah.
Half an hour later as promised a maid produced a huge spread on an old wooden table overlooking Kalk Bay. Binks and myself ate together. Drank coffee and smoked. He asked me what my plans were for the day to which I gave a vague explanation that I was waiting for business associate to email or call me with instructions. Occasionally, as we sat I put my head round my door to have a look at the screen. There was still no movement. Richard was sleeping off a heavy night. I recalled him and his companion downing numerous shots. At around 9am I made my excuses to the affable Binkie and collected my computer and bag from the room. It was time to do my job and my job was to watch Richard. I could have quite happily taken a walk down to the main road and wander around the shops and the harbour but I had to do what I was being paid to do.
The Mercedes started first time and I took the short drive to Walker Road and the Blueberry Guest House. My laptop by my side. The Land Cruiser was in its usual parking and I found a spot fifty metres away from where I could see it clearly ahead of me. It was time to hurry up and wait again. There was a fair amount of traffic on the road. Cars and pedestrians. All of them seemed to take no notice of me sitting there with the sun-roof open. I browsed the internet as I sat checking news sites, sending a few emails and researching the island of Zanzibar. It helped to pass the time a bit although I was more than happy sitting in the sun. I saw in the rear view mirror that I was getting a bit of colour back in my face.
It was 10.30am when Richard came out of the guest house and onto the road. He was wearing Bermuda shorts and a tee shirt and looked a bit pale and slow.
I knew he was nursing a hangover behind his dark glasses. It made me smile. He walked around the Land Cruiser and tugged at the roof rack as if to check it was attached securely. He was carrying a small bag similar to the one I had seen him exchanging in London at the restaurant. He stood for a moment looking at the roof rack and running his hand through his hair. He unlocked the car and got in. I followed him up Walker Road to the stop street where he turned left and drove down the steep hill to the main road. I felt a pang of anxiety at the thought of losing him in the traffic like I had the previous day but I put it out of my mind when we got to the main road. Being a Sunday the traffic was lighter. At the main road he turned left and drove towards Cape Town. What's the agenda today Richard?
I followed him up the beautiful coastal road. I kept an eye on the sat-nav as we drove, my vehicle a safe fifty metres or so behind his. I marvelled at the contrast of colours around me. The brown boulders of the huge mountain to my left against the pure blue sky. The golden sands of Muizenberg beach stretching out into the breaking waves of the ocean. After ten minutes or so Richard indicated right. I glanced at my sat-nav which told me we were in Muizenberg. I felt a bit exposed at the traffic lights as my car was right behind his but he paid no attention to his rear view mirror and made the turn when the lights turned green. We drove past a post office and various hotels and restaurants until we reached a large building on the left. It was opposite a water park which was busy with families and kids having fun on the slides in the sun. Beyond the water park was Muizenberg beach. There were a lot of people on the beach that Sunday. Sunbathing, fishing, surfing, and walking dogs. Richard parked his car outside the building near a real estate company and a shop by the name of Lenny’s Surf Works. I remembered that Richard had visited the shop's website, I had seen it when I looked at his internet history while I was in his flat. All of the shops were closed being a Sunday and I wondered what he was up to. I parked the Mercedes on the far side of the parking area facing the water slides and turned in my seat to watch what his next move would be. He was making a call on his phone while sitting in the parked car. I watched and waited as he got out of the car and walked up and down the various shop fronts looking in at what was on offer. Two minutes later, a blue pick up truck sped into the car park and parked directly next to Richard’s vehicle.
The man who got out was Richard’s drinking buddy from the previous night. They smiled and shook hands. He was dressed pretty much as he was the previous evening in short
s and a tee shirt with slops. Standard Cape Town attire. He was fishing in his pockets for keys as they walked towards the surf shop.
They both paused at the door while the right key was selected then unlocked the door and walked in. At that moment two coloured men staggered up the pavement towards my car. They were both obviously paralytic drunk and appeared to be having an argument over a large plastic bottle of cheap sherry. The two were obviously tramps. Scruffy clothes and missing teeth. I was struggling to see into the darkness of the surf shop while my attention was being disturbed by the two drunks. The one who was carrying the bottle was now clinging to a street lamp trying to avoid the other who was desperately trying to get hold of the booze.
“It's mine, it's mine!” He shouted as he spun around the pole evading the flailing arms of his assailant.
“No, no china, it's ours. We sharing! We sharing the dop! Pass it to me man.”
Their accents brought back memories of my childhood. My eyes flicked back to the front of the surf shop, there was no movement and both men were still inside. I wished I had found a closer parking so I could have taken a walk past and looked in. It was too late now. The coloured man who was trying to get the bottle was sensing he was fighting a losing battle and started swearing at the other who was still hanging onto the pole of the street light. He staggered two metres away, turned to his companion and started a tirade of comical abuse.
“Fuck you man, fuck you man, it’s our dop ekse!” He spat while swaying on his feet.
“It’s mine! It’s my dop!” The other replied.
All of this was happening metres from my car. They paid no attention to my presence and I wondered if they even knew I was there. Then the one without the bottle turned his back to his companion, dropped his filthy trousers to his ankles and bent over exposing his bare buttocks to his friend who was swigging away happily. I noticed a few families across the street at the water park hurry their children away from the spectacle.
The Jason Green series Box Set Page 10
