handling things around here. Mr Masondo made me the alternative handler to your agents. I’ve been looking after things around here for you.’
‘Great. Hope nobody shot at you.’ Durant could hear bitterness in his voice and he didn’t like it.
‘Fortunately not. I met Splinters; he’s doing fine, sends his regards. Disgusting fellow, hey?’
‘He’s a good agent.’
‘He’s got to be the dirtiest man I’ve ever met,’ Shabalala said with a grimace. ‘You understand now why I don’t shake hands with people?’
‘Splinters is a good man.’ Durant felt life coming back as he spoke about work issues. He opened his filing cabinet and shook his head. ‘Where’ve all my files gone?’
‘I’ve made some improvements to your systems around here. This is the twenty-first century. We don’t do paper any more.’
‘They let you into my office?’
‘We weren’t sure you were going to make it, Kevin, I’m sorry. The work had to continue.’
‘You thought I’d die. And you didn’t water my plant.’ Durant pulled his hand through the shrivelled plant and then scattered the crushed leaves on his table.
Shabalala put his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable at Durant’s reaction. ‘I’m sorry about your plant.’
‘It’s completely dead. And my cup was dirty. You couldn’t have just taken it to the kitchen for me? You thought, “He’s dead anyway, who cares about the cup?”’ Resentment permeated Durant’s voice.
‘That’s not true, Kevin. I couldn’t touch that dirty cup. You know it. Don’t take it personally.’
Durant slammed the steel drawer shut. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more. So – my files?’
Shabalala held out a memory stick. ‘I scanned them all onto this. No more paper. The Amazon’s disappearing too quickly, somebody has to stop it.’
Durant frowned and then put his hand on his forehead and sank into his office chair. ‘I don’t know whether to thank you or slap you.’
‘Rather thank me, because if you slap me it could have career implications for you. And also, I’m a lot bigger than you and never pick on someone bigger than you.’
Durant laughed. He was feeling better already. ‘You’re okay, Cedric, you know that.’
Shabalala smiled. ‘I want you to get back into your work as quickly as possible and I’ll help you. I’m told you love your job.’
The job. It wasn’t the job that had nearly got him killed. It was his own recklessness and careless disregard for the rules. Perhaps he needed a Shabalala to rein in his cavalier attitude to a dangerous occupation.
‘Anything more on the guys that did this to me?’ he asked, his voice upbeat.
‘Well, Splinters is working on it. He’s quite connected so I’m sure he’ll come up with something eventually. I’ve briefed him.’
‘The guy that he brought to our meeting, the Filipino guy who died – anything on him?’
‘That’s a dead end. I think he just ran into the wrong people at the wrong time. They probably didn’t trust him, followed him, saw you and thought they’d just wipe out the whole lot.’
Durant shook his head. Shabalala’s summary of the event bore little resemblance to Durant’s experience of it. But then again, Shabalala seemed to see everything more clinically and clear cut than he did. ‘Splinters needs to stay away from that crowd. They might’ve identified him already. They might try to kill him again.’
Shabalala sighed. ‘We’re paying Splinters to be an informer. Let him inform. He doesn’t have to get close to them, he just has to speak to people, keep his ear to the ground. He can do that.’
‘I’ll set up a meeting with him, have a chat, and see what he can do.’
June 2009
The US consulate office in central Durban commands a great view of the coastal resort city. The building is one of the tallest in Durban and the view extends from the Bluff in the south to Umhlanga Rocks in the north, and on a clear day you can see ships at the outer
‘Great. Hope nobody shot at you.’ Durant could hear bitterness in his voice and he didn’t like it.
‘Fortunately not. I met Splinters; he’s doing fine, sends his regards. Disgusting fellow, hey?’
‘He’s a good agent.’
‘He’s got to be the dirtiest man I’ve ever met,’ Shabalala said with a grimace. ‘You understand now why I don’t shake hands with people?’
‘Splinters is a good man.’ Durant felt life coming back as he spoke about work issues. He opened his filing cabinet and shook his head. ‘Where’ve all my files gone?’
‘I’ve made some improvements to your systems around here. This is the twenty-first century. We don’t do paper any more.’
‘They let you into my office?’
‘We weren’t sure you were going to make it, Kevin, I’m sorry. The work had to continue.’
‘You thought I’d die. And you didn’t water my plant.’ Durant pulled his hand through the shrivelled plant and then scattered the crushed leaves on his table.
Shabalala put his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable at Durant’s reaction. ‘I’m sorry about your plant.’
‘It’s completely dead. And my cup was dirty. You couldn’t have just taken it to the kitchen for me? You thought, “He’s dead anyway, who cares about the cup?”’ Resentment permeated Durant’s voice.
‘That’s not true, Kevin. I couldn’t touch that dirty cup. You know it. Don’t take it personally.’
Durant slammed the steel drawer shut. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more. So – my files?’
Shabalala held out a memory stick. ‘I scanned them all onto this. No more paper. The Amazon’s disappearing too quickly, somebody has to stop it.’
Durant frowned and then put his hand on his forehead and sank into his office chair. ‘I don’t know whether to thank you or slap you.’
‘Rather thank me, because if you slap me it could have career implications for you. And also, I’m a lot bigger than you and never pick on someone bigger than you.’
Durant laughed. He was feeling better already. ‘You’re okay, Cedric, you know that.’
Shabalala smiled. ‘I want you to get back into your work as quickly as possible and I’ll help you. I’m told you love your job.’
The job. It wasn’t the job that had nearly got him killed. It was his own recklessness and careless disregard for the rules. Perhaps he needed a Shabalala to rein in his cavalier attitude to a dangerous occupation.
‘Anything more on the guys that did this to me?’ he asked, his voice upbeat.
‘Well, Splinters is working on it. He’s quite connected so I’m sure he’ll come up with something eventually. I’ve briefed him.’
‘The guy that he brought to our meeting, the Filipino guy who died – anything on him?’
‘That’s a dead end. I think he just ran into the wrong people at the wrong time. They probably didn’t trust him, followed him, saw you and thought they’d just wipe out the whole lot.’
Durant shook his head. Shabalala’s summary of the event bore little resemblance to Durant’s experience of it. But then again, Shabalala seemed to see everything more clinically and clear cut than he did. ‘Splinters needs to stay away from that crowd. They might’ve identified him already. They might try to kill him again.’
Shabalala sighed. ‘We’re paying Splinters to be an informer. Let him inform. He doesn’t have to get close to them, he just has to speak to people, keep his ear to the ground. He can do that.’
‘I’ll set up a meeting with him, have a chat, and see what he can do.’
June 2009
The US consulate office in central Durban commands a great view of the coastal resort city. The building is one of the tallest in Durban and the view extends from the Bluff in the south to Umhlanga Rocks in the north, and on a clear day you can see ships at the outer
Similar Books
