He walked over to the edge and looked down at the shining road surface below. The streetlights reflected off the mirrorlike surface of the street. Swinging his legs over the edge, he sat on the brink of a seven-storey fall and looked out over the cardboard-like rooftops of Sydenham.
He remembered the first time he came up here. It had been soon after it happened, and his mind had been numb yet aching at the same time. He hadn’t known how to describe the feelings he’d had at the time, except to say he felt forgotten. He’d felt alone and in agony. His soul was screaming for help and no one, not even God, cared to listen to his pleas. So when he first climbed these piss-soaked stairs, he had done so with the intention of ending his torment. To give everyone, including God himself, the middle finger and to soar over the edge. Maybe someone would hear him then.
But once he got to the roof, something changed. He somehow found peace. He felt safe and free from all the shit that was going on in his life. This place became his special place of thought and reflection. He came up here to talk to God. Not pray. No, never to pray, but to talk. To ask Him why. Why the fuck was he being punished? What the hell had he done to deserve this torment? He never received an answer, but he always felt a little better having asked.
Kyle felt removed from the world around him. He imagined that this was what people who’d had near-death experiences described when they said they had left their bodies and looked down on themselves from another, ethereal plane. Everything looked different. Smelt different. Even time was different.
Kyle thought he’d been up on the roof for only five minutes, but when he looked at his watch, he saw that another thirty minutes had disappeared. He listened to the wind serenade him and he observed the world at his feet. Calm. Black. Empty. His eyelids eventually began to feel a little heavy, so he decided that it was time to go back. It was a school night, after all. He hated having to go back to his aunt’s matchbox house, but a seventeen-year-old boy did not have much of an option. Not just yet, anyway. But, hopefully, soon.
2
“Sies, ek sê, I hate the smell of raw fish,” complained Spider. “It makes me naar.”
“You must come out on the pier in the early hours of the morning,” said Bruge, with a smile on his face. “Absolutely genuine. Parkin’ out there with an Old Brown Sherry, your rod in the water. It’s heaven, ek sê. Pure heaven. Am I right, Captain?”
Captain just shrugged. The ocean was screaming at him. The salty smell of sea surrounded him. Embraced him. But although the wind and air were warm, he shivered.
The three of them were sitting in Captain’s parked Toyota Conquest. The windows were down, but the smell of the marijuana they had just smoked still hung in the vehicle.
Two sharp beams of light cut through the darkness from around the corner and panned towards them. “They’re here.” Captain pushed his door open. He stepped out into the empty parking lot and, to reassure himself, touched the small of his back. The 9 mm Grand Power K100 pistol that was rammed into his belt offered him some comfort.
The headlights belonged to a white BMW M3. It eased up to the Toyota, the only other car in sight, and parked almost on Captain’s toes. Both the driver and his passenger got out. The passenger was short and slight. He had sharp features and his eyes bulged a bit. His companion was larger. He had massive shoulders and a large chest that looked as if it was made of stone.
“I knew you’d be on time, Captain.”
“Always,” Captain smiled and shook hands with the smaller of the two men. “How are you doing, Lazarus?”
“Couldn’t be happier. Good business always makes me smile.”
Captain flicked his head at Lazarus’s bodyguard in greeting. “Howzit, Neville.”
The bigger guy grunted and got back into the car.
“This bastard is going to make us wait,” Lazarus said.
“Looks like it. You want a skyf?”
“Yeah, why not.”
The two of them stood between the cars and shared a cigarette for a few minutes until another set of headlights came around the corner. The BMW 325i came to a stop next to Lazarus’s BMW M3. Captain ground his cigarette under the sole of his tackie and joined Lazarus in walking over to the new car.
“Lazarus. Captain.” The fat man that spilt out of the driver’s seat had skin as black as tar. “Too long I have not seen.” He had a strong Mozambican-Portuguese accent.
“José.” Lazarus shook hands with the fat man, and so did Captain.
“Good to see you. Good to see you. You ready to get down to business, yes?”
José did not wait for a response. He walked to the back of his car and opened the boot. The three men huddled over the trunk as José lifted the divider to reveal the spare-wheel well. But instead of a tyre and rim, there were bricks of white powder.
“Good stuff,” José said with a pearly grin. “Top quality.”
Lazarus nodded. “Good.”
José slammed the boot shut and handed the keys over to Lazarus, who smoothly passed them on to Captain.
“Now, we can talk of future business. Durban, East Coast side. Nice. Business good. But now I want to get into Joburg. You got … capable … to get into Joburg?”
“Depends on the margin,” Captain responded with a smile.
“But even then,” Lazarus interjected, “Joburg’s got some heavy hitters of their own. It’s too risky. I prefer to keep my operations to my city.”
José nodded vigorously. “Okay, okay. Business plan number two. I want to take cars from here, to my Mozambique. I’m talking twenty, maybe thirty thousand per car. I give you list of car. You find the car, take the car, get it over the border, that’s it. I got connect at border post. No problem at all to get it over. What we –”
Captain touched Lazarus on the shoulder. “I think I should waai here, Lazarus. Sounds like other business that don’t involve me and my guys.”
Lazarus nodded. “Sure thing, Captain. Drop the car off at my house and leave the keys with my wife.”
Saying his farewells with a simple flick of the head, Captain climbed into the BMW 325i and eased the car out of the parking lot, with Spider and Bruge driving in his car behind.
The luxury car hugged the bends and curves of the road better than his own vehicle ever could. He was tempted to see just how fast and responsive German motor engineering was, but he resisted the temptation to open the car up on the freeway. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, he made sure that Bruge and Spider remained on his tail. He should have had Spider drive with him, he thought. He would love to hear his views on José’s proposal.
Lloyd Scheepers was Captain’s best friend long before he became his second-in-command at the Godfathers. Actually, Captain was amazed that they ever became friends. They were polar opposites. Where Captain was hot-headed, Lloyd was calm. Captain was act first, think later. Lloyd was think first, think later and then maybe act. He was a calming influence on Captain and the rest of the Godfathers. Except when it came to spiders. He had a pathological fear of arachnids, hence his nickname – Spider.
As he drifted the BMW towards the off-ramp, Captain remembered how they had first met in primary school. He had come to Lloyd’s defence when a group of boys was tormenting him by dangling a spider in front of him, trapping him in a corner. Captain’s interference got him a beating, but also a friend for life. And a partner in vengeance, because Captain and Spider, with the help of Kyle, got their revenge on