Amina shook her head and smiled. ‘Must have been awkward.’
‘Very. All the guys were too scared to even talk to her. Except our friend Cedric, who didn’t know who she was until it was too late. Nothing too obvious, but afterwards I just thought it odd that he actually went down to her car and tinkered under the bonnet.’
‘Hmm, car engines are dirty places.’
‘Exactly.’ Durant looked up at the waitress and smiled. ‘The sloppy breakfast, please. You want something, Amina?’
‘Breakfast at three? No thanks.’
‘Suit yourself. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Doesn’t matter when you have it.’
‘I need to go soon.’ Amina seemed a bit agitated and Durant could see she was concerned about leaving the crèche in the hands of her helpers. ‘So you said you wanted a favour from me?’
‘There’s a guy called Arshad Tanveer we’re talking to at the moment. He’s helping us actually. He’s Pakistani and he’s got a South African wife.’
‘That’s the smart thing to do if you want residency, I suppose.’
‘Ja, but wait. His wife used to work as a kind of immigration practitioner, but it was a bit of a dodgy business.’
‘Which means she supplied forged docs to foreigners and made them legal so they could benefit from all South Africa’s wonderful services? I hope they locked her up.’ The words sounded angry and Durant thought the conversation wasn’t going so well.
‘Well, ja, she was arrested recently and the cops kind of shut the business down.’
‘Good. I hope she gets a long jail sentence.’ Amina shook her head in annoyance.
‘Whew, not ready to enlist in the Salvation Army, are you?’ Durant was worried. He needed Amina’s cooperation on this one.
‘Well, we should get rid of her husband as well because it was obviously just a marriage of convenience.’ Amina’s thumbs punched a message into her phone. She wouldn’t be long.
‘Hey, you’re not helping me here. I’m telling you all this because I need to ask you a favour. You’re making it hard for me.’
‘Okay, sorry, carry on.’
‘Tanveer came to us with information – the detail’s not important – anyway, he’s helping us and it’s useful stuff. So I want to help him. He and his wife, her name’s Mariam, are really battling now.’
‘Excellent. They’ve learnt that crime actually doesn’t pay.’
Durant sighed, reached into his pocket and slipped out a small photograph.
Amina looked at it and smiled. ‘Aw, such a cute little thing. Who is it?’
‘It’s Siraj. It’s their little baby boy.’
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. ‘Kevin Durant, you lowdown, deceitful, manipulating—’
‘Well, they say a picture’s worth a thousand words, so I thought I’d save myself the thousand words and show you the picture of Siraj, their sweet little nine-month-old boy.’
She was still staring at the picture. ‘Such a beautiful baby came from such a screwed-up marriage?’
‘I know. So she’s out of work, needs to try to find a job, and Tanveer’s got a cellphone shop that makes next to nothing. So they’re on the bones of their bums.’
‘Is she looking for work?’
‘Apparently, but she’s out on bail for fraud.’ Durant raised his eyebrows quizzically. ‘Would you employ her?’
Amina shrugged her shoulders. ‘So why’re you telling me all this?’
‘I feel kind of responsible. The guy’s helping us, trying to stay on the right side of the law – and you know when there’re kids involved, I usually just melt.’
‘You want me to take Siraj in the crèche?’
Durant smiled. ‘Man, you’re good. I was wondering how I was going to ask. I’ll cover it, the expenses I mean, but I want Tanveer’s wife at least to have a shot at looking for work, or helping him or whatever, and I think without having to look after Siraj all day she might have a better chance.’
‘Oh, Kevin Durant, you so owe me.’
Durant sighed. ‘Look, it’s important we stay in Tanveer’s good books. He can give us good access to crime issues.’
‘We? Hello, have you forgotten we don’t actually work together any more?’
Durant grinned. ‘Once an intelligence officer, always an intelligence officer. You’re just deployed at a crèche, but you’re still an intelligence officer.’
Amina shook her head and smiled.
‘Mmm . . . Can’t escape that argument, can I? Listen, I’ll think about taking Siraj.’
She pushed her chair back and reached for her handbag.
‘Of course. And discuss it with Ahmed first.’
‘Nah,’ Amina sneered, ‘don’t have to do that.’
‘Please talk to your husband. I don’t want to create problems for you.’
‘You won’t. It’s my crèche and there’s space and we do need more boys . . . Okay, I’ve thought enough, I’ll take him.’
Shabalala put a thick file onto Durant’s desk.
‘What’s this?’
‘It’s a profile I compiled on Babar’s Plaza.’
‘Flip, you’ve been busy. Sit down. So, much happening in that building?’
Shabalala wiped Durant’s chair with a handkerchief and sat down. ‘Sorry, but that chair had sugar on it. Can’t you put sugar in your coffee without messing?’
‘I can, but then I wouldn’t have anything to annoy you with.’
‘We need to chat about that building. What did Tanveer say when you spoke to him?’
‘Well, he couldn’t say much more than we already know. The two guys came in, he said he didn’t have anything and they must come back at the end of the month. They got a bit nasty and said they’d be back. He said the one guy’s name’s Shafiq.’
Shabalala flipped open the file. ‘Shafiq Hoosen. He works for Babar, the plaza’s owned by Ali Babar— Why are you laughing?’
‘Ali Babar and the forty—’
‘Can’t you take this thing seriously?’ Shabalala shook his head. ‘Babar’s a menace. There’s a lot of information on him. He’s worth a lot, financially that is, but morally and ethically bankrupt. Can you close your blinds, the sun’s on me.’
Durant stood up and closed the blinds, trying to hide his smile. ‘Babar’s Pakistani, I presume?’
‘Yes. He’s been here for years. There’ve been allegations before that he’s hooked up to dissident political groups in Pakistan and is funding terrorist activity, but nobody’s really taken it seriously or investigated it.’
‘It’s a bit out of our league too.’
‘About a year ago the guys at Counter Terrorism did a profile but it didn’t prove anything. There was a report which actually said that Pakistanis who’d just arrived in the country were taken to the building and beaten up, but the investigator commented that no one wanted to talk. It’s a very tight community; they protect each other.’
‘So what do you suggest we do? Hand it over to the police?’
‘It comes down to intimidation, extortion, assault – police matters. If the police can perhaps turn one or two of these guys, get them to testify against Babar, maybe they can take the thing down.’
‘Let’s get Mr Masondo’s opinion on it. We can still keep Tanveer going. Never know when we might need info from him again.’
Khalid licked his lips involuntarily and smoothed his eyebrows with his index finger. Now this girl was pretty. His contact at Home Affairs had said she was ‘average looking’, but she was patently prone to understatement. Long black hair, tall, with bright eyes, this woman wasn’t average at all, she was hot. More than a few heads turned as Mariam Tanveer entered the terrace and looked around for the man she had to meet. She wasn’t entirely comfortable meeting him, but Arshad had said contact with this man would help their situation. She wasn’t sure what this meant, but she didn’t often question her husband’s judgement. He had somehow orchestrated the meeting through her sister, Yasmin, who had confirmed that the diplomat had influence and money, two tools she needed to get her and Siraj out of the mess they were in.
He stood and extended his hand to her. ‘Imraan, Imraan Khalid. How do you do?’
‘Hi. Mariam. Pleased to meet you. My sister said we should meet.’
‘Yasmin is a beautiful woman, Mariam, and she and I get along so well. She’s helped me with so much.’ Mariam looked puzzled for a moment, then remembered Yasmin worked at the Home Affairs office as some sort of liaison with the diplomatic corps. ‘I would do anything for her.’
‘Well,’ she giggled, ‘here I am. Now what?’
‘Now you order anything you want off the menu, all halaal, see? And then tell me all about yourself.’
They sat down and immediately Mariam felt uncomfortable. It was already starting to feel like an affair. Yet her husband had sent her. It was confusing, but she would play along.
‘Maybe my sister’s said things about me to you, I’m not sure, but I don’t know much about you. I know you’re American, obviously, and that you sometimes work with my sister or she helps you, but I don’t know anything else.’
Khalid smiled and took her hand. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment as she felt her body stiffen, but she didn’t resist.
‘I’m a guest of South Africa, and I’ll be here for four years at least. I was born in Atlanta and grew up in Boston. I’ve done quite a few tours of duty, even to Afghanistan.’
She had to admit he was charming and a lot more interesting than Arshad. ‘Wow. My life’s a little less colourful, I’m afraid,’ she smiled, feeling more at ease. ‘I was born in Durban, I’m 27 years old, have one sister and I had a little business once—’ She stopped herself short. She didn’t want him asking awkward questions about her immigration agency. Especially after the police shut it down. ‘Now, I’m just hanging.’
Khalid laughed. ‘Hanging? A beautiful girl like you? No boyfriends, no girlfriends?’
Mariam looked down at the table and shook her head.
‘That’s a damn shame. No one to spoil you? Maybe that’s why your sister introduced us; she knows I like to spoil girls.’
‘Maybe. But I don’t expect to be spoiled.’ He wouldn’t understand. She wasn’t doing this for herself.
‘You deserve to be spoilt, Mariam, every woman deserves to be spoiled.’
What did he want from her? ‘So where do you work?’
‘I’m at the consulate of the United States. Right here in town. I’m in charge of security for all
US
interests in the province.’
Mariam lifted her eyebrows naïvely. ‘I didn’t know they employed Muslims.’
‘I’m a patriotic American Muslim, Mariam. There’s nothing wrong with serving your country and Allah.’
Mariam nodded. ‘I agree. And I suppose there’s nothing wrong with making new friends.’ Suddenly, she was hungry. ‘Can I order?’
‘Kevin, so good to see you, give the man a big hug.’ Durant reluctantly submitted to a hug from Splinters. ‘Hope I didn’t squeeze too hard, don’t want to do any more damage! How you, man?’
Splinters looked worse than ever. His greasy grey hair was plastered across his forehead and Durant couldn’t help thinking Splinters was thinner each time he saw him. And he’d last seen him months ago.
‘It’s been a long haul, but I think I’m okay now.’
It was midday and the meeting place was a car wash next to the post office parking area in Greyville. Durant still felt a tingling in his back. It was bizarre. No darkness, no thunderstorms. Perhaps it was because the meeting was with Splinters. Perhaps he hadn’t healed completely.
‘It’s good you’re back, Kev.’ Splinters’s eyes darted around the car wash and Durant felt his muscles tense. ‘Cedric, he’s gone now, huh?’
Durant smiled. He didn’t think Shabalala and Splinters would get on. They were on opposite poles of the germ spectrum. ‘I’m back, he’s gone.’
‘Annoying that man, hey?’ Splinters pulled up his nose in disgust.
‘Why d’you say that?’ Durant wanted to hear it from him.
‘“Don’t do this, do that”, “did you know?” Everything he’s got a rule for. He’s hard to work with, man. These last few months have been hell for me. I can’t even smoke around him.’ Durant smelt his rancid breath as Splinters leaned closer. ‘Can’t spare me one, can you?’
Durant involuntarily sidestepped him and shook his head. ‘I still don’t smoke, Splinters. And Cedric, well, he’s a challenge, but you get used to him, hey.’
‘I dunno. Thanks for not dying, Kev, or he would’ve been my handler forever, ha ha ha!’
Durant laughed at the thought. ‘That alone’s what kept me alive.’
Splinters lowered his voice. ‘Okay, here’s a thing. You know where I stay in the flat, there’s a group of women downstairs, noisy lot, always parties and chaos and what not going on. Well, next to that flat the tenant moved out, old man, couldn’t take the noise.’ He coughed and apologised. A high-pressure cleaner hissed into life behind them and both men ducked. Then both pretended it never happened. ‘A lady moved in there about a month back. Name’s Tamara, black girl, nice girl. Anyway, few weeks ago I’m hanging washing and she comes out and we chat and she asks what I do, and I tell her—’
Durant interrupted. ‘What did you tell her? I’d really like to know.’
‘No, I told her I’m a puzzler, and used to work for the bank and, just general stuff about what’s happening in the area, and she’s quite impressed.’ He frowned and his hand went to his chin. ‘Not that I’m trying to pick her up, I mean, she could be my daughter, I might be a puzzler but I’m not a paedophile, you know what I mean, I also got my lines drawn.’
‘Hey, so anyway, you tell her you’re a puzzler and . . .?’
‘I hate it when you interrupt, Kev. Now I’ve lost my train of thought.’ He put a trembling hand to his back pocket. ‘Got a light?’
‘You know I don’t smoke, why would I carry a light?’ A man shouted and Durant spun around. It was the attendant calling a worker to dry the car.
‘Damn, I need one now, I can feel the nerves. So, ja, anyway, she tells me her brother’s mixed up in stuff, bad stuff, but leaves it there. Then yesterday, I get out the lift and there she’s crying one way. So I’m being nice to her and she’s saying her brother’s been hurt and is in hospital.’ He thrust an unlit cigarette into his mouth.
Durant was getting impatient. The last time he was having this type of going-nowhere conversation with Splinters, someone shot at them. ‘And so?’
‘She said he was caught in an explosion. So I’m thinking, like you’re thinking now, that maybe he’s an
ATM
bomber.’
Durant nodded. At last. Something worthwhile. ‘So you know me, I just ask out straight and make like I’ve done work for them, changed money and that kinda stuff, and she says, well, ja, he’s one of those guys. Good hey?’