Piranha. Rudie van Rensburg

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      Jackal Williams pushed the button for the security gate. Dada’s voice crackled through the intercom: ‘If you’re an enemy, you can fuck right off. But friends are always welcome.’

      ‘Is the dog tied up in the backyard?’ Jackal asked. He heard a little laugh he took to mean it was safe to go in. He jogged quickly across the lawn, opened the front door and stepped inside. Dada was sitting in the corner of the big living room, as always: dirty vest, pyjama bottoms and slippers, cigarette in the mouth, reading the Daily Sun.

      ‘Where’s Kwaai?’ Jackal asked.

      Dada didn’t look up from the newspaper, but pointed down the passage towards the toilet. ‘Riding the porcelain scooter.’

      Jackal paused at the big full-length mirror to admire himself. He liked his new look. He touched his curls. Since he’d been leaving it natural, the girls were checking him out again. He’d grown sick of fighting with the flat iron every morning. And the chemicals and straighteners had been screwing his hair up big time. Now he had more time in the mornings. A bit of Dr Miracle’s Curl Care and it’s ‘Aweh, world’.

      He looked round when Dada laughed. He was pointing at something in the paper with his cigarette hand.

      ‘There are people here on the Flats who think sniffing glue can cure you of cancer, my bru!’ He shook his head. ‘We should pray for them, hey? Relieve them of their kak ideas.’ He chuckled.

      Jackal nodded. What did he care about the rubbish in the Daily Sun. He walked over to the armchair next to Dada. He picked up a pair of panties between his thumb and forefinger and held them up before throwing them on the ground.

      ‘Why is there always bleddie underwear lying around everywhere?’

      ‘You can say that again. Kwaai’s got no respect. New chick here every day. And he jumps them anywhere … the jacuzzi, the kitchen table. And he doesn’t care if I walk in on them … doesn’t miss a stroke.’

      ‘But he still goes to sleep alone every night, huh?’

      ‘Ja. Says Frendiline’s ghost lies down with him every night. He also needs some prayer, that one.’

      Jackal wondered what had really happened with Frendiline. There were rumours that Kwaai had taken a hit out on his own wife, but Kwaai’s story was that she was in a coma because of the Americans gang’s doings.

      Luckily, these were not Jackal’s worries. He was happy with where he was in life right now: watchdog over the drug runners of the biggest drug ring in Cape Town. Working for Kwaai paid well. He was full of shit, but it was a fact of life: Godfrey ‘Kwaai’ Koeries was the main brain on the Plain. And no one, not even the other gangs or the cops, tried anything with him and his crew. Too dangerous.

      The toilet flushed and Jackal got up quickly. Why did Kwaai want to see him so urgently? There was nothing funny on his side of the business. The runners were running like a well-oiled machine.

      Kwaai came waddling out of the toilet behind his enormous jelly belly. He slowly buttoned his shirt while he checked Jackal out with those tiny little black eyes of his. Scary stuff when he eyeballed you like that. Then he grinned and waved at the couch.

      ‘We need to talk.’

      Kwaai groaned as he sat down on the couch. Jackal sat down next to him.

      ‘Special project,’ Kwaai said, placing a puffy hand heavily on Jackal’s shoulder. He snorted a ball of slime down his throat and said: ‘Operation Kidnap.’

      Jackal did not like the sound of this thing.

      Dada looked over the newspaper. ‘Kidnap? That’s not our core business. I tell you: stick with the core business and the money angels smile.’

      ‘Money,’ Kwaai said, pausing dramatically, ‘is our core business. And here’s an opportunity to make more of it.’

      He leaned forward with some effort to reach for a box on the coffee table. He opened the lid and tipped the box so Jackal could check inside. It was packed with R200 notes.

      ‘Fifty K, my bru. Cash. Delivered via courier early this morning. A little deposit to do a recce and finalise arrangements. Once the actual job is done, our man sends another one hundred K our way.’

      He tapped Jackal’s chest with a forefinger. ‘And you, bru, are in charge of this operation.’

      Jackal’s ears rang as though he’d been slapped. He was a low-risk kinda brother. This wasn’t his vibe. ‘Sounds to me like a jobbie for one of our guns.’

      Kwaai laughed so hard his gums showed. ‘You chicken or what?’

      ‘No, man,’ Jackal said quickly. ‘But it sounds like there’s some violence involved. I’m a pacifist, mos, you know.’

      ‘Pacifist!’ Dada piled on. ‘Did you swallow a fucken dictionary this morning?’ He laughed as though Jackal had told a joke.

      Kwaai smiled at his father. ‘That’s exactly why Jackal must do this job. We need intelligence on the job. The guns haven’t got the brains.’

      He patted Jackal’s shoulder with his heavy hand. ‘Chill, brother. It’s a chick you have to kidnap.’

      * * *

      Theodore couldn’t take his eyes off the speaker. The chairperson of the business chamber had introduced her as Natasha van der Merwe of IESA. Theodore was there on behalf of African Curio to hand over a donation of R50 000.

      When he’d heard that IESA’s representative was going to be the guest speaker, he knew it was an opportunity that could be milked to the max for good publicity. Everyone who had a stake in conservation, all the most important businessmen from the district and the media usually attended the quarterly meeting.

      But his thoughts were not on the donation or the publicity now. He was enchanted by Natasha van der Merwe, the vision at the podium.

      She was young, not even thirty, and yet she held the mainly male audience in the palm of her hand. She spoke with conviction, rattled off strings of statistics without referring to notes and answered questions from the audience like an experienced politician. People were going to be falling over themselves to offer IESA money, Theodore thought, when she ended her address with a frank call for donations in order for IESA to keep fighting the good fight.

      She received a standing ovation.

      The chairperson hurried towards her and took the microphone. ‘This outstanding organisation that does so much to preserve the wildlife of our country needs us. Let us, the business community of Musina, show them where our hearts lie,’ he urged the audience.

      Theodore walked towards them, but two other people reached the front first. Another four fell in behind him.

      ‘Look at that,’ the chairperson practically shouted as the first cheque was handed over to roaring applause, ‘that’s the businesspeople of Limpopo I know!’

      Natasha van der Merwe shook hands with the man who’d made the donation.

      ‘Five thousand rand from Mr Tol Brummer of Safari СКАЧАТЬ