another, rocking slowly, vying for space. The woman between them is skinny, her light complexion fading into bleached orange hair. She watches Zembe while talking into the phone. She is laughing when Alvin Dadoo steps out from the opening elevator doors.
“Officer.” He gestures to the elevator, a big smile crossing his face that then disappears too quickly.
Zembe enters the elevator. She feels imposing as her hips crowd the stocky man next to her. They don’t speak until they are through his front office and behind a closed door.
“Thank you for taking the time to see me, Mr. Dadoo,” Zembe says as they take seats in his large, cool office, masking her township accent as best as she can.
“Not a problem. Thank you for making the trip here. Very sad thing, very sad indeed. I was a friend of his, you know. We weren’t just business partners. I mean, we were partners and friends.”
“I am sorry for your loss.”
“It’s the company’s loss, really.”
“Did Mr. Matthews come here often?”
“This was his fifth visit to Johannesburg on this project. I can’t speak of his travels before.”
“Is there reason to believe he travelled here before his employment with your company?”
“No … I am just not privy to his conduct before that time.”
Zembe looks around the office while Dadoo sails through his answers. It is a classic executive’s office. The wood is all real, no peeling finishes, and the windows are huge, overpowering the walls. It is as if the small room is hanging in the sky.
“The project Mr. Matthews was supervising, it was the water privatization in the city?”
Dadoo grimaces at Zembe’s choice of words. He shifts his chair and taps on the bare surface of his desk. “Public-private partnership. He was here to report on our progress to the North American parent company. He would arrive, spend a week checking reports and meeting with key figures in the company, and then return to Toronto and summarize his findings.”
“What were his findings from this trip?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“How is the public-private partnership working out?”
“He was reporting on normal progress. That is, he would have been, if …” Dadoo’s eyes meet Zembe’s when he says this. They are unwavering, false in their certainty. Zembe doesn’t let him have a moment.
“Mr. Dadoo, part of my job is to find out if Mr. Matthews might have done something, said something, to create animosity among the people he worked with. We both know the water privatization is causing trouble in the townships. I’ve read the reports about water workers being attacked during meter installation. The police have been briefed more than once about the slashing of Amanzi truck tires and the makeshift roadblocks to as yet unserviced areas of the township. I need to know what he was reporting on, exactly.”
“I thought this was a gang killing.” Dadoo can’t help but let a smug smile play for just a second on his lips before allowing his face to relax into a serious expression.
Zembe is caught off guard. She sits back in her chair.
“We take very good care of our partners, Ms. Afrika,” Dadoo continues. “We have made it our business to know every detail of this investigation.”
“We are looking at a particular gang that has been known to operate in Phiri. My office is in the process of tracking down the senior members of that organization.”
“I trust that process will not take too long.”
Zembe wonders how she was pushed to the defensive so quickly. She ignores Dadoo’s question and changes the subject. “Walk me through Mr. Matthews’s day here.”
“The hotel can provide you with better details than I can.”
“The national office is in charge of the hotel room and surrounding area. They will issue a report on their findings within a few days, but I want to hear your version.”
“We had a meeting with some of our partners here on the ground. We used the conference room in
“Officer.” He gestures to the elevator, a big smile crossing his face that then disappears too quickly.
Zembe enters the elevator. She feels imposing as her hips crowd the stocky man next to her. They don’t speak until they are through his front office and behind a closed door.
“Thank you for taking the time to see me, Mr. Dadoo,” Zembe says as they take seats in his large, cool office, masking her township accent as best as she can.
“Not a problem. Thank you for making the trip here. Very sad thing, very sad indeed. I was a friend of his, you know. We weren’t just business partners. I mean, we were partners and friends.”
“I am sorry for your loss.”
“It’s the company’s loss, really.”
“Did Mr. Matthews come here often?”
“This was his fifth visit to Johannesburg on this project. I can’t speak of his travels before.”
“Is there reason to believe he travelled here before his employment with your company?”
“No … I am just not privy to his conduct before that time.”
Zembe looks around the office while Dadoo sails through his answers. It is a classic executive’s office. The wood is all real, no peeling finishes, and the windows are huge, overpowering the walls. It is as if the small room is hanging in the sky.
“The project Mr. Matthews was supervising, it was the water privatization in the city?”
Dadoo grimaces at Zembe’s choice of words. He shifts his chair and taps on the bare surface of his desk. “Public-private partnership. He was here to report on our progress to the North American parent company. He would arrive, spend a week checking reports and meeting with key figures in the company, and then return to Toronto and summarize his findings.”
“What were his findings from this trip?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“How is the public-private partnership working out?”
“He was reporting on normal progress. That is, he would have been, if …” Dadoo’s eyes meet Zembe’s when he says this. They are unwavering, false in their certainty. Zembe doesn’t let him have a moment.
“Mr. Dadoo, part of my job is to find out if Mr. Matthews might have done something, said something, to create animosity among the people he worked with. We both know the water privatization is causing trouble in the townships. I’ve read the reports about water workers being attacked during meter installation. The police have been briefed more than once about the slashing of Amanzi truck tires and the makeshift roadblocks to as yet unserviced areas of the township. I need to know what he was reporting on, exactly.”
“I thought this was a gang killing.” Dadoo can’t help but let a smug smile play for just a second on his lips before allowing his face to relax into a serious expression.
Zembe is caught off guard. She sits back in her chair.
“We take very good care of our partners, Ms. Afrika,” Dadoo continues. “We have made it our business to know every detail of this investigation.”
“We are looking at a particular gang that has been known to operate in Phiri. My office is in the process of tracking down the senior members of that organization.”
“I trust that process will not take too long.”
Zembe wonders how she was pushed to the defensive so quickly. She ignores Dadoo’s question and changes the subject. “Walk me through Mr. Matthews’s day here.”
“The hotel can provide you with better details than I can.”
“The national office is in charge of the hotel room and surrounding area. They will issue a report on their findings within a few days, but I want to hear your version.”
“We had a meeting with some of our partners here on the ground. We used the conference room in
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