Thirteen Hours

Chapter 23

Captain Benny fucking Griessel. Could you believe that?

He sat there savouring the glow of his promotion, wishing he could go home to his flat and type an email: My dear Carla, your father is a captain today. Tonight he would walk into Primi Piatti where Anna would be seated at a candlelit table and he would bend down to kiss her on the cheek and say: 'Captain Benny Griessel, pleased to meet you,' and she would look up at him in surprise and say 'Benny!' and kiss him on the mouth.

'How did Dekker take the news of Kaleni?' John Afrika broke through his reverie.

'I told him it was still his case, Commissioner,' said Griessel. 'He accepted it.'

Afrika looked sceptical, but merely nodded. 'Have you told her yet?'

He had forgotten. Totally. He would have to move his backside. 'I haven't had the chance yet.'

'Do you know what Mbali means?' the Provincial Commissioner asked. 'Flower. It means a flower in Zulu.'

Afrika grinned. 'She speaks five languages and has an IQ of a hundred and thirty-seven. Not bad for a flower.'

'She'll be sitting in my chair one day,' said the little Xhosa.

'She thinks she's sitting there already,' said Afrika, and the two officers laughed congenially. Griessel grinned, not sure whether it was proper for a Captain to laugh with them.

The Regional Commissioner suddenly went serious. 'Benny, there's a new development. Rachel Anderson's father said she can't go to the police. He thinks she means she can't trust us.'

'Can't trust us?' queried Griessel. The two senior officers nodded in unison and waited for him to come up with the solution for them.

'That's what she told them over the telephone?'

They nodded again.

'Wait a bit,' he said, leaning forward on the grey cushion of the steel-framed government chair. 'We are looking at this from the wrong angle, Commissioner. Vusi has a theory that she is a drugs mule, both she and the deceased. It would fit with a lot of things - the way they came into the country, the nightclub, the Russians, the rucksack that was cut away, the whole chase. It's not that she can't trust the police - it's because she's a criminal. She can't walk into a police station and say: "Help me, I've brought in a half a million worth of drugs and then cheated Demidov".'

He saw relief flood the faces of the two senior men. But then John Afrika frowned.

'We can hardly say that to the Consul General or her father. Not without proof.'

'We promised her father we would call him,' said the Provincial Commissioner, and when Benny didn't look very enthusiastic he added 'Captain' expressly.

'Immediately,' said John Afrika.

'To reassure him,' said the slight Xhosa.

'It would relieve a lot of pressure.'

'If he knew a senior officer was in control.'

'But we mustn't be too hasty with the drugs idea.'

'I'll get you the number,' said the Provincial Commissioner and rose to his feet.

'Use Director Arendse's office,' said John Afrika. 'He's on leave.' Afrika stood up as well. 'Come, I'll show you where to go.'

Then the power came on with a shudder that travelled through the entire building.

'Aren't you going to arrest him?' Willie Mouton asked in disbelief as the fluorescent light above his bald pate began to flicker, then reflected brightly off it.

'At the moment there are no grounds for arrest,' said Dekker, standing at the door. 'Could I ask you a few questions?'

'What, me?'

Dekker crossed to a chair near the lawyer. 'Please. About Adam Barnard. And the Geysers.'

'Oh. Of course. Please, take a seat ...' said Mouton without much sincerity.

Dekker sat. 'This morning, at Barnard's house. You spoke about Adam's "ways" just before Mrs Barnard ...'

He saw Mouton glance at Groenewald for approval.

'The newspapers have written about some of this already, Willie ...' the lawyer said slowly.

Mouton cleared his throat and rubbed his hand quickly over his shaven head. 'Sexual harassment,' he said warily.

Dekker waited.

'I don't believe that has anything to do with his death.'

'Let them decide on that, Willie.'

'Yes, Regardt, but fifteen years ago a guy could still have a go and the woman could say "no" and it wasn't an issue. Now all of a sudden it's sexual harassment.' Again the hand on the head, a gesture of uncertainty. He fiddled with the silver earring and then leaned forward quickly, a decision made. 'Everyone knows Adam had a thing for women. And they loved him for it, I'm telling you. Fifteen years ago I was promoting and managing tours for pop bands and I heard the stories way back then: Adam had Xandra at home, but that wasn't enough, he wanted more. He came and asked me to join AfriSound, as full partner, to do production and promotion. He told me: "Willie, just so you know - I like women." He wasn't ashamed of it. But harassment? That's a load of crap. Of course he had a go. But he never told a woman he would offer her a contract if she slept with him. Never. He would listen to demo CDs, or go to a show, and then he would say yes or no. "You've got potential, we want to sign you" or "no, you're not a fit for us." I'm telling you, there were singers who tried it on with him, who just walked into his office, all tits and legs and make-up and fluttering eyelashes and he would say straight out: "I'll nail you, but I won't sign you."'

'I'll nail you,' Dekker savoured the term and thought the whiteys really had their own language.

'You know what I mean.'

'What about the harassment?'

'A year ago, Nerina Stahl had a huge offer from Centre Stage and all of a sudden the papers were full of how Adam had harassed her ...'

'I'm not sure I understand.'

'Nerina Stahl... the star.'

Dekker shook his head. Never heard of her.

'You probably listen to Kfm - they are missing the Afrikaans boat altogether.'

'Five-FM,' said Dekker.

Mouton nodded as if that explained it. 'Adam made her. Four years ago she was singing ...'

'You're talking about Nerina Stahl?'

'Yes, she sang for McCully in an Abba tribute, a month in the Liberty in Johannesburg, a month at the Pavilion, one of those shows that come and go. Adam went one evening. Pretty girl, cute voice - young, she was twenty-four then, comes from Danielskuil originally, or Kuruman ... If we hadn't made her she would have been selling houses for Pam Golding in Plattekloof, I'm telling you. Adam took her out to lunch and told her she could have a solo career. She signed that very afternoon. We got her a boob job and Adam translated a bunch of German pop songs and we spent a bit on a music video. That CD went to twenty-five thousand and two years later she was on that huge show, Huisgenoot Skouspel. She still had a year to go on her contract with us when Centre Stage offered her more and she went to the papers with the fucking sexual harassment story, because that was the only way she could get out of her contract. Then there were three others who jumped on the bandwagon, two has-beens ...'

'Mr Mouton ...' Dekker made a gesture indicating he should slow down. 'Centre Stage?'

'It's a rival label. They only had English acts before the Afrikaans wave and then they tried to steal people from other labels. Nikki Kruger went over to them, and the Bloedrivier Blues Band. And Ministry of Music. But Nerina came up with this harassment suit.'

'And so there were other women who came forward?'

'It was just for the fucking publicity. Tanya Botha and Largo, they both bombed and so ...'

He saw Dekker's frown. 'You know, bombed, sales took a nose dive. Tanya went all deep suddenly, her first two CDs had been covers, we developed a nice sound for her, but suddenly she wanted to sing her own stuff, all pain and suffering, and nobody wanted to listen to that. And Largo ... I don't know, I suppose her sell-by date had arrived.'

'And did they also accuse Adam Barnard of sexual harassment?'

'Front page of Rapport."Sangeresse span saam teen seks", Singers Speak Up Against Sexual Harassment, or something.'

'What was the nature of Nerina Stahl's complaint?'

'A load of rubbish, I'm telling you. All about how Adam could never leave her alone, couldn't keep his hands off her in his office, wanted to take her home with him all the time, but everyone knew Xandra was sick at home and that wasn't the way Adam operated.'

'And then?'

'We told Nerina she could go and the storm was over. Tanya Botha and her lawyer sat down with us, we offered her thirty thousand and she was happy with that. I see she's launching a gospel CD now for some or other new label. Everyone's singing Afrikaans gospel now, the market is hot.'

'When last was there any talk of this?'

'I'm not sure ... only every time the newspapers have nothing to write about. Regardt?'

'It's been quiet for the last five or six months. But now that Adam is dead ...'

'Can you imagine what a circus it's going to be? And no one will remember that he saved the Afrikaans music industry.'

'How so?' asked Dekker.

'Nobody has done more for the luisterliedjie than Adam Barnard. Anton Goosen maybe ...'

'What is the luisterliedjie?'

'It was before your time, early Eighties. But you have to understand the scene in those years. In the Seventies Afrikaners just listened to fluff... Jim Reeves, G Korsten, Min Shaw, Groep Twee, Herbie and Spence ... pop, like "I love, you, I love you" lyrics. It was the golden era of Apartheid and people didn't want to think, they just wanted to hum along. Then along came Anton Goosen and Koos du Plessis and they wrote original stuff, great lyrics ... In any case, they talked about the Music and Lyrics Movement, don't ask me why. Or just the luisterliedjie, because you had to listen to the words, you couldn't just hum it. In any case, Adam was in his twenties, working for De Vries & Kotz, one of those gigantic legal firms, but he wasn't happy and he was crazy about music. He listened to everything, the pubs, the small clubs, and he noticed there was all this raw talent, but the big record labels were not interested; they only wanted the big stars. Then he discovered Xandra. Did you know Alexa Barnard was a major star?'

'I heard ...'

'He resigned his job and started AfriSound, signed Xandra and a few others. He got hold of the best songs and he marketed them cleverly, because he knew that was the future. They did OK. Not great, but they did more than survive and then came Voelvry, and he played both sides of the fence ...'

' Voelvry? Like in "free as a bird"?'

Mouton sighed. 'Have you ever heard of Johannes Kerkorrel and Koos Kombuis?'

'Yes.'

'They were part of it. That's where I began, touring with one of those guys. We slept in kombis and we didn't have a studio or a label. We sold tapes out of the back of a minibus in the late Eighties. I did everything from driving the van to trying keeping the guys sober, buying food, building sets, fixing the amplifiers, putting up posters, collecting the ticket money .. .Those were wild days, it was great. Voelvry was protest music in Afrikaans, you know, against Apartheid. The students bought into that like you wouldn't believe, in their thousands, while mom and dad in the suburbs were listening to Bles Bridges' love ballads. This new wave happened right under their noses. It was then that Adam came to see me - that's when we began to work together. We were the men who made Voelvry legit. We gave them a label that took them mainstream, with management and marketing and promotion. It just got bigger and bigger and just look at Afrikaans music now. In the last five or six years it has exploded because the language is under threat, and all the papers can write about is harassment, I fucking ask you, or about that "De la Rey" hit, but few people listen to the whole CD. Do you know most of the songs are about sex and booze?'

'What songs?'

'On the "De la Rey" CD.'

Dekker shook his head, thinking before he replied: 'Did Adam Barnard say anything during the past week about a DVD?'

'What DVD?' There was genuine surprise.

'Any DVD.'

'We are busy with a couple of DVDs. Josh and Melinda's is scheduled for the KKNK, a live recording ...'

Dekker shook his head again. 'Did Barnard say anything about a DVD that he received in the post?'

'Why would anyone send him a DVD? Production and promotion is my department. If he did receive anything he would have passed it on to me.'

'There is a possibility that he did receive a parcel containing a DVD. Last week. Did he mention anything?'

'Not to me. What kind of DVD was it? Who said he received one?'

'Did he open his own post?'

'Adam? Yes, who else would do it?'

'Didn't he have a secretary?'

'Natasha is PA to both of us, but she wouldn't open our post. We do almost everything electronically. If there were a DVD, she would have brought it to me. What was on this DVD?'

'I can't divulge details at this stage, Mr Mouton. Who can I speak to about payments that Mr Barnard would have made during the past week or so?'

'Payments? Why would you want to know that?

'Willie ...' Groenewald cautioned.

'It's my company, Regardt, I have a right to know. What are the Geysers going around saying?'

'Willie, his investigation is sub judice. That means he doesn't have to—'

'I know what it means, Regardt, but it's my company now that Adam is no longer with us.'

'Mr Mouton, unfortunately you are obliged to answer my questions.'

The Adam's apple bobbed; the hand fiddled with the silver earring. 'What was your question?'

'Who can I talk to about payments that Mr Barnard made in the past week?'

'To whom?'

'To anyone.'

'Adam was in charge of finance and admin. He signed the cheques. But Wouter would know. He's the accountant.'

'Where would I find Wouter?'

'Next door down.'

'Thank you,' said Dekker and rose. 'I will also have to search Mr Barnard's office. Has anyone been in his office since yesterday night?'

'Ask Natasha, I don't know.'

Dekker went to the door.

'They're lying,' said Mouton. 'The Geysers are lying to save their own butts. Payments? What payments?'

'Willie ...' said Groenewald.

Griessel sat in the absent director's office. The big chair was comfortable and the desk very broad and clean. He studied the sheet of white paper the Provincial Commissioner had given him. Bill Anderson was written on it. Plus a number with overseas codes.

He was reluctant to make the call. He wasn't good at this sort of thing. He would try too hard to reassure and that would spark false hope, and he knew how the man felt. If Carla were to phone him from London and say there were people trying to kill her, people who had killed already, he would go out of his mind. He would climb on the first fucking plane.

But that wasn't all that was worrying him.

Ever since John Afrika had walked out of here and shut the door behind him, Griessel had been worrying about the other alternative. What if Rachel Anderson were not a mule?

Gennady Demidov was notorious, with an extensive web of activities. Rumour had it that there were city councillors in his pocket. SAPS members as well. At least a few uniforms. There had been a complaint of assault, something about people being beaten with baseball bats because they didn't want to sell property to Demidov - property that the city council needed to buy to build the World Cup soccer stadium. The docket disappeared from the Sea Point station and witnesses stopped talking. Six months ago the Organised Crime Unit had been cleaned up with great fanfare.

There was a new commanding officer, new detectives, quite a few from Gauteng and KwaZulu, but six months was a long time. The Russian had deep pockets.

He would not be very popular with the Commissioners for that theory.

Griessel sighed, lifted the receiver and heard the dialling tone.

He would say: 'This is Captain Benny Griessel.'

At least that would feel bloody good.