Dark Intent (3 page)

North of Pretoria

The next morning Krige kissed his wife
and left the farm. They said little to one another. She felt it had all been said. He loved her, but since the job in Durban, he sensed she had distanced herself from him. If she ever found out what he was going to do now, she would leave him.

In town, Krige parked his Land Rover in a quiet side road not far from
the café. He walked to it and waited outside. After a while, a man arrived in a Ford and parked. Krige was the only young white around and the man approached him.

‘Jan Krige?’ he sai
d and held out his hand. ‘John Dalton.’

Krige nodded
and led the way inside the cafe. He could not help being impressed by Dalton’s excellent physical condition. Perhaps he was just the right man to have along.

They found seats in a corner
and after ordering, Krige put the envelope he was holding on the table in front of them. ‘You can look at some of this in here while we drink our coffee and then you can read the rest in the car when we get going.’

A pot of coffee came
and they filled their cups. ‘The first part of this covers the background of these four men,’ said Krige. ‘Read it and you will see why some members of the group hate them so much, particularly the older men who lived through the apartheid period and believe these men are as virulent now as they were then.’

Dalton
slid the papers towards him and started on the first section. It read:

Three of the men are Xhosas with extensive guerrilla training.
These men, Elijah Ngubane, the recognised leader, John Nofomela and Paul Ngwenya are three of the most dangerous and violent men ever to operate in South Africa. They first came to prominence six years before 1994 when apartheid ended and Mandela was released to form a majority government. But these men, like others, did not stop their murderous activities. They are around thirty-five years of age.

In the past fifteen
years the three have appeared to reside permanently in South Africa. Before that they spent time training in Angola and Russia in constant preparation for all the raids and skirmishes they organized and executed in South Africa. Since their return they have left South Africa periodically but these were very short breaks. Their activities are essentially secret but they are not benign. They left the country a few weeks ago but soon entered again. It is highly likely they are here now, if the pattern of their movements is anything to go by. When they returned they were followed to a house in Malakazi township, KwaZulu-Natal. It is a place we know about and, judging by the amount of time they spend there, we are confident they are there now.

Th
ese men do not only hate whites; they also have an intense dislike for some blacks. They killed several blacks in high positions during apartheid and this has not stopped. They have pretended to be part of political organizations but have used party cover to conduct their evil work. The African National Congress or ANC in particular regarded them as their sons and it is believed still do. But you will never rid a political movement of its criminal element, men who use the cause as a catalyst to kill. Sometimes it is directed against their own people. A brief account of the way these men operate is exemplified by the following.

Years back a man named Thami Zulu, a nom de guerre for Muziwakhe Ngwenya, came to a bitter end at the hands
of one or more killers. He was a celebrated member of the ANC, a gifted leader and tipped to replace Mandela. He died in strange circumstances, or rather he was murdered, but the killers got away with it. He was an intelligent, sensitive man and after being turned down for Witwatersrand University went through the University of Botswana and then on to Moscow for training in guerilla warfare. He wanted to stay away for longer but he was needed and he returned to the camps in southern Angola. Chris Hani, the murdered chief of staff, spotted him and made him regional commander of operations in KwaZulu-Natal. His predecessor, Nyanda, was assassinated by South African agents.

Thami
Zulu wanted peace but in those days the whites were in no mood to listen. In 1988 nine ANC guerillas were massacred in separate ambushes as they entered the country from Swaziland. The killings had a paralyzing effect on the ANC leadership which was reduced to paranoia about informers in its ranks. The ANC security section, independent of the military and with draconian investigatory powers, recalled Thami Zulu to Lusaka. He was placed under house arrest and then formally detained.

Chris
Hani and Joe Modise, commander of MK or Umkhonto we Sizwe, made furious demands in the National Executive to have access to him. They were refused. After seventeen months in detention, a large part in solitary, Thami Zulu was released. Five days later he was dead, at the age of thirty-five. That started bitter controversy in the ANC and a commission of inquiry was set up. The findings were never made public but it is generally believed there was no evidence that Thami Zulu was a South African agent, the reason for holding him. Cause of death was given as tuberculosis, which he had had for some time. The real cause was something else. The English newspaper, the Guardian, obtained a copy of an analysis made of Thami Zulu’s blood and stomach after his death. Diazon, an organo-phosphorous pesticide, was detected in both specimens. The pesticide is a particularly toxic poison. Only three men were known to have seen Thami Zulu in the twenty-four hours before he died, Ngubane, Nofomela and Ngwenya. They served under him in Natal as part of the regional command structure. These three were the most wanton, ruthless killers ever to see service in the ANC military. Their absence was clearly noted when they refused to appear before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission set up after Mandela became president. This was allowed and many refused, particularly senior whites previously in national security and government and members of the predominantly black Inkatha Freedom Party. If Ngubane, Nofomela and Ngwenya had appeared they would never have got amnesty for political crimes and would probably have been arrested and prosecuted if the evidence was there. Now, because they refused to apply to the TRC for amnesty they are at large. These men are the three guerillas we want.

T
he fourth black is a Zulu gangster named Moses Shozi. He plays a prominent role in the Inkatha Freedom Party who want their own state as much as we do. They are natural enemies of the ANC who have been in power since Mandela’s release. Shozi is guarded and extremely dangerous. He should be the first hit followed by the guerillas.

Shozi's a member of a gang
called Amasignora. It is the Zulu equivalent of the Afrikaner Broederbond as it used to be known although the reason for its existence is less subtle, quite simply the murder of those who obstruct the political ambition of Inkatha. Their favourite target is the ANC and ultimately they're behind much of the head-on violence in the townships. Apparently some of our people would have been content if the activities of this gang remained at that but some of them were too clever. Before and after the ANC was unbanned it is no secret that there have been a number of attacks on white farmsteads. Invariably these were attributed to Umkhonto we Sizwe and Azapo, the Azanian Peoples Organization, but evidence shows this is not true. Inkatha were the villains in some of these attacks and quite cleverly stamped the carnage as the work of their black enemies. As recently as four months ago, three families were killed on farms in northern KwaZulu-Natal. Years before they had moved down from where they farmed near the Zimbabwe border. One of the families was related to a senior member in the group and he never rested until he believed he knew who had done it. His findings pointed to Inkatha, specifically Shozi. That is one of the reasons why he is on the list.

Shozi
lives in his own house in KwaZulu-Natal. He seldom leaves and then only for short periods when warring against those to whom he has taken a dislike. The three guerillas appear to spend most of their time in Malakazi township. The resting places of these four men should be ideal for your purposes and details are attached. Other information you will need are in other sections of this document.

‘That is a
comprehensive statement on these four blacks,’ said Dalton. ‘I’ll read the rest in the car, where they are staying and their movements. Teichmann said you wanted to drive.’

‘Yes,’ said Krige. ‘For part of the way
you can concentrate on the document. First, I want to park further down the road or up a side road, somewhere less conspicuous. Wandering eyes soon take an interest in a vehicle that doesn’t move for three days. Bring the Ford.’

Dalton
followed in his car and when Krige parked in a side road he drew up behind. He opened his car boot and took out the 7mm Remington, in its scabbard, a Browning 9mm pistol and the Beretta 93R for Krige, both in holsters. The Beretta had the unique capability for a pistol in that it had a 20-round magazine and could fire, if necessary, three rounds in a single burst. It was the finest pistol Krige had used. There was a silencer for each gun.

The t
wo men were soon on the main road that went through Pretoria and on to Pietermaritzburg 800 kilometres away. The turning to the heart of KwaZulu-Natal, home of the blacks, was in Pietermaritzburg.

‘You will see in one of the sections the locations of the
men,’ said Krige. ‘As far as their movements go it is a guess and we will have to find that out for ourselves. The group don’t know the details and I can imagine their difficulty. Very briefly, Shozi’s house is in the Edendale Valley, fifteen kilometers from Pietermaritzburg, five kilometers from Umbali township and four kilometers this side of Malakazi township. It is shown on the map. The area is very pretty, very quiet and the house, with quarters for the guards, is near the main road. It is the only road around. The Xhosas are staying in a room in Malakazi that belongs to the mayor of the township, a man named Dhlamini and is a few hundred metres from his house. I am confident both houses will be easy to find. If not we will have to call on the mayor.’

Krige paused then went on.
‘As the document said we should go first for Shozi. Before then, I want to go and picture the layout of Malakazi. There is a footpath that goes along the side of the main road between Umbali and Malakazi and passes Shozi’s house. The whole area is grass and woodland and I believe there are trees partly blocking the house from the path and the road.’ Krige turned down the window. ‘Amongst the trees there is a
kopje
and a trout stream that virtually follows the path. After Malakazi we will head for Shozi and take a vantage point in the
kopje
.’

‘You have certainly prepared yourself,’ said Dalton.
‘I am impressed.’

‘It is all in the
document,’ said Krige. ‘There is quite a bit more. I have spent time reading it. Teichmann and his people did a good job. In a while we will stop for something to eat and buy some food and water for later. This could be a long job and we won’t find a shop on every corner.’

Berea,
Durban

While he was involved with the Cartwright affair, Steiner had left a senior student to take the
karate
sessions. He did not know how he could help Smith any more and there would be little chance of getting the original file from Staples, unless the copy was found and the National Prosecuting Authority became involved. And, Smith had not asked him for any advice.

On a cool evening when he did not hav
e a class he phoned Sophie Carswell.

She picked up the phone and was pleased to hear him
. After a few words he said: ‘Would you like to go to the beachfront for something to eat.’

‘I would love to but I have been
asked out by a guy at the dance school,’ she said. ‘I don’t particularly like him but he was insistent and I said yes. He is a bit strange and before and after every class he parades himself in front of the wall mirror. I’ll be back at around nine. Come up here for a drink.’

‘You might be held up,’ said Steiner.
‘What about tomorrow night.’

‘That’s great,’ she said.
‘You can pick me up at eight.’

‘That’s fine,’ said Steiner.
‘I will see you then.’

After the call Steiner sat in the living room and thought about Sophie.
She hadn’t changed since he saw her before he went to Japan and he regarded her as one of the most attractive girls he had met. Her passion for life, the way she moved, only enhanced her good looks. He knew he could easily fall in love with her and in some ways that was something he feared. He was in part a loner and even though he knew his natural ability and determination had helped his development in life, it was the other that had put ice in his veins.

The following evening St
einer finished the class at seven-thirty. He went to his flat round the corner and after a shower drove up the Berea to where Sophie was staying. He rang the bell and she opened it. She wore a knee-length black dress and high heels, and her make-up was perfect. They greeted one another and she was about to lead him inside when someone came out of the shadows near the gate and walked up to the door.

Sophie was momentarily stunned and then said:
‘John Kallis, what are doing here? James Steiner and I are going out for a drink.’

‘I’
ll come with you,’ said Kallis. He eyed Steiner. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

‘I do,’ she said.
‘You were not asked and I don’t know what you are doing here, hanging about in the shadows. That’s very strange behaviour.’

He laughed humourlessly.
‘So this guy has got you all to himself.’

‘Yes,’ she said.
‘That is the way I want it. Please go.’

He walked to within
an arm’s length of her. ‘Just leave him and we will go alone.’ He was starting to lose his cool and took hold of her arm. ‘I’m getting impatient.’

‘Leave her,’ said Steiner. ‘She’s too good for you
.’

Kallis
let Sophie’s arm go and stared at him. For a moment he was still, unsure. There was something strange about Steiner, something dangerous. He smiled at Sophie, turned and slowly walked towards the gate.

Steiner faced
Sophie, who was amazed at the way he had dealt with Kallis.

‘Let
’s go in.’ he said. ‘He won’t come back.’

They
went inside and locked the door. Sophie sat down in the nearest chair. Her mind went to what Steiner had told her about Japan and she wondered what he had done to the three men who came for him. When he had taken sexual advantage of her in London she had sensed his presence and feline strength and she felt it now.

St
einer stood near her. ‘You will never rid the world of men who behave like that and enjoy it. The only chance you have of defending yourself is through the law or doing what you can to the best of your ability.’

She got up.
‘After that I’m not in the mood to go out.’ She walked over to him and held his hand. ‘Let’s have a drink here and call it a night. That creature has spoilt the evening.’

She led him into an adjacent room.
There was a drinks cabinet against the wall. ‘What would you like,’ she said. ‘Everything is here.’

He asked for a glass of water and
she poured a Campari for herself. When they were seated on the sofa she asked: ‘When were you last in Japan?’

‘Just after I saw you in
London,’ he said.

‘When you went for me?’

He was quiet and then said: ‘Not the best thing I have done.’

‘But you showed such passion,’ she countered.
‘I enjoyed it even though I was angry. You were so gentle. I heard you had left for Japan.’

‘You were very attractive,’ he sa
id.

S
he smiled and stared at him. ‘How would you like to take me to Japan? It’s coming up for their autumn, apparently the most beautiful season in their year.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Paul Adams told me. That was before we broke up.’

‘Why did you?’ he said
.

‘We had nothi
ng in common. All he was interested in was
aikido
and watching television. Essentially he was an empty shell. Not my type.’

‘What is your type?’ he said
.

‘I’ll tell you one day,’ she said, the hint of a smile caressing her lips.
‘What about Japan? I would love a break from South Africa.’

‘We will go,’ he said.
‘At the moment I don’t know when. There is something I want to see concluded, even though I am not involved anymore.’

‘That sounds very mysterious.’

He looked at her. ‘We will go to Japan as long as you behave yourself,’ he said cryptically and with a smile.

She was about to respond wh
en he changed the subject. ‘What will you say to John Kallis. People like that have to prove something and that is when they are dangerous.’

‘I want nothing to do with him,’ she said emphatica
lly. ‘He will get the message. He can be pleasant when he chooses but that is when he thinks he has a chance with me. He is very charming with women and very intelligent, though that did not show tonight. I must have been blind to go out with him, even if it was only now and again. I turned him down several times.’

‘What does he do?’ asked Steiner.

‘Have you ever heard of the Directorate: Special Operations, the DSO?’ she asked. ‘They are known as the Scorpions and have a crime fighting capacity to investigate and prosecute national priority crime. I know his boss is a Peter Smith. He talks a lot about the DSO and is obviously drawn to his work’

They spoke for a while longer then he said:
‘You need some sleep. I will phone you.’

She let him out through the front door and when
she had closed it, said softly: ‘Sleep well James Steiner. If you don’t make a play for me, stay away. I’m falling in love with you.’

As Steiner drove home he thought about
what Sophie had said concerning Kallis and the man’s work with the DSO. It was incongruous that Kallis’ boss was Peter Smith. He had had difficulty concealing his surprise when she told him. He thought about the file, the job Kallis might have and wondered if he got on well with Smith. He sensed by Kallis’ accent that he was Afrikaans and he found that unusual. There weren’t many Afrikaners in Durban. He told himself to forget about the man. He wouldn’t see him again.