Chapter 14

November 14, 13:25 SAST. Hanover Park Avenue, Hanover Park.

The sound of the roaring fire from the bombed BMW dominated everything else. The sounds of the traffic coming to a standstill did not register with the three Hard Livings foot soldiers as they crouched in the ditch beside the road. People streamed out of the cars to try and see if they could help, or to just witness and video the scene of the accident.

Most believed it to be an accident. The realization that it was a bomb blast did not register as yet. Only Ahmed and Smitty knew it. They stood up out of the ditch, and as if in some kind of daze walked back to their car, parked half onto the median of the road. The corpse of their comrade lay haphazardly across the back seat, but fortunately out of sight of the passers-by.

In front of them the inferno was subsiding, with only smaller flames and coal-black smoke emitting from the wreckage. Cars can burn in less than seven minutes to complete ashes. There was nothing anyone could do for the burning car, or the cremated bodies inside.

Ahmed reached in his pocket for his cell phone, took it out and dialled a number. Still shaken and trembling, he listened for an answer to his call.

He turned half away from the scene in front of him and saw a white sedan in the opposite traffic lane slowly driving by. He recognised the three guys inside as Asian, with the typical Asian white clothes, and facial features that looked Chinese or Japanese. All three seemed to be evaluating the burning BMW, but then they could have just been any of the passers-by.

“Ahweh?” Rashaad answered his cell phone.

“Obi, we have a problem,” Ahmed said.

(Authors note: Obi = A slang name of respect for a leader or someone in a leadership position. Not to be confused with either a long wide sash worn by Japanese women around the waist of a Kimono, or the Star Wars character Obi-wan Kenobi. It could also be seen as a nickname for “Obadiah” of the Biblical meaning “Servant of God,” hence the reference to a male person of authority, or boss.)

November 14, 13:35 SAST. Hanover Park Avenue, Hanover Park.

Rashaad literally froze as he heard the words spoken by Ahmed. His BMW blown up! By whom?

“Where?” Rashaad asked.

“Two klicks from home. In Turfhall Road, by the park.”

“Does anyone know you are speaking to me?”

“Nope. Only we three.”

“Where’s Boetie?

“Dead. A piece of the Beamer took off his head. He doesn’t even know he’s away to the betta-land, up in the sky.”

“Shit!”

“What must we do, Obi?”

“Get back here! Don’t say anything. Let the fuzz handle it. They will be there now-now.”

Ahmed understood that term, “now-now” to mean anything from right away, up to just now, or a bit later; the Cape Flats way of indicating time. Now-now is a little later than now!

“Okay, Obi. We’ll hanna away like ghosts. And Obi, some Chinese guys in white clothes and having many tattoos drove by, looking at the Beamer.”

“Don’t speak to anyone! Just get here!” Rashad commanded, and disconnected.

What must he do? Someone tried to kill him and went for the Beamer, thinking he would be inside the car. Chinese guys! No way! That was Japanese. What did Joe say, Yak-something? Nakamura was involved in this. Make no mistake. He must call Joe. Things are getting out of hand.

November 14, 13:45 SAST. Cape Town International Airport.

Having secured the Puma inside the hangar, Lorie, Angie, Roxy, and I waited for our transport. Mai-Loan would come to get us with the Nissan SUV, but it will take at least a half hour to forty minutes to get here. The flight in the Puma took twelve minutes.

And how did Roxy enjoy her ride? “It was over too soon!” was the sigh and Angie told her that next time it will be much longer, winking at me.

Lorie and I also made use of the time while waiting on Mai-Loan, to feed the Puma. One never knows if we would need her again in a hurry. Also, it is good to leave her fuelled up. Much less chance of water condensation in the tanks.

While hangaring the Puma, an armoured, fuel-bowser truck, in the colours of the SAPS, with the unit identification of “AIR WING,” pulled up on the apron outside the hangar. One guy with sandy hair and sporting aviator sunglasses, and a big smile, got out of the vehicle.

“Hi there! If Mohamed don’t go to the mountain, then the mountain comes to Mohamed.” He called, as he strode towards us. Lorie tried hiding behind me but was not very successful.

“You must be, Ronny” and I extended my hand in greeting.

“That’s me! Now, which of the three good-looking gals was on the radio last night?”

“Me!” Lorie answered, shuffling forward.

“Well, hello there, Major Sunshine! How have you been? Never thought I would run into you again. Ronny said as he recognised Lorie from her Air Force days. “Care to show me the bird before your husband whacks me on the head? My girlfriend might not like it if I’m beat up by someone else’s husband. She might take it the wrong way!”

Giggle. “Then come on, let me show you, and it’s good to see you too,” and she led Ronny over to the Puma.

“Assertive guy, and an attitude like most pilots with big egos!” Angie said. “Come, Rox, let’s go look after our sister...” and with a swing of her hips, she turned and waltzed over to the Puma. Roxy smiled at me, turned, and followed Angie.

“Don’t be surprised,” I called at their departing backs, “Lorie has a black belt in Jujitsu!”

“So do I,” Angie called back. “So do I. Remember the day we met?” Chuckle.

The day we met, or rather the night when the little chilli-pepper-pip walked into my hotel room in Lüderitz, Namibia, with the words: “Let’s talk!” No greeting, just; “Are you Windsor? Let’s talk!” And she pressed past me into the room. Little posture, big attitude. Assertive and a fearless air of confidence, which I later discovered to be a frightened little girl hiding behind a brick wall, and trusting no-one.

Later that night I was treated to the rare opportunity to see that short, skinny redhead with the emerald-green eyes take on two bozos and wipe the dusty Lüderitz town street with them, smearing them into the pavement. Yeah, that same girl that is now called; Doctor Angelique Adelheid Rothman. An enigma of a woman, the girl of my dreams, and my lover.

“And you fly this bird?” I heard Ronny exclaim in wonderment from the cockpit of the Puma, and the laughter of the three girls, so I sauntered over to go see what they were up to. Yes, the cockpit of the Puma with all its systems and backup systems, can be a little intimidating, even to high-hours helicopter pilots.

“Yes, but I am not the only one qualified to fly her. If you stick around a while longer, you’ll meet our other pilot. She’s coming to fetch us back home,” Lorie was saying.

“You should meet the team. There’s still Olivia and Leah, also type rated in her,” Angie added.

“My word! An all-girl team flying this beauty!” Ronny stated, still in wonderment.

“Yeah, but our chief pilot is my brother. You met him on your way in,” Lorie continued.

“And you, green-eye girl?” Ronny asked Angie. “You fly her too?”

“Nope! I play with something that goes Mach two point two.” Was Angie’s matter of fact answer, and Ronny’s jaw dropped.

“Are you in the Air Force?” He stuttered.

“Nope! We just have access to some privately owned fighter jets,” Lorie enlightened him. “I’m an instructor on Mirage III and Mirage F1s, as you can recall ... Cadet.”

“You have privately owned Mirage aircraft?”

“At last count, five of them,” I said. Ronny turned to me, his eyes as big as saucers.

“Who are you guys?”

“We work for a security firm. We secure installations of value to some governments in Africa, the Middle East, and reputable groups who pay” Mai-Loan interjected as she walked up to us. “Who’s your friend?”

Lorie introduced Ronny to Mai-Loan.

“Unusual name.” Ronny said as he shook Mai’s hand.

“I am Vietnamese by birth, Iraqi by nationality, and South African by marriage.”

“Wow! Do you guys have job opportunities and what’s the pay like?”

“The pay is good. Job opportunities? Well, let Mai-Loan speak to the boss.”

“I did fly Mirage III and Cheetah aircraft while in the Air Force.” he stated with a hopeful glint in his eyes, as if it would open a door for him.

“Yeah, but can you take down two Mirage bogies in one pass, like our redhead sister here?” Mai-Loan asked. “Ok, she cheated that day, she flew a Kfir.”

“Cheetah,” I corrected.

“Kfir! That one was pure Israeli built and painted to look like a Cheetah!” Mai-Loan snapped. Ronny’s head was on a swivel.

“You guys get to play with some nice toys. And no, I did not get to fire at two bogies at the same time...” Ronny said getting out of the Puma’s pilot seat. “Damn! You guys are unbelievable. The only Kfir in South Africa I know about is Bandit.”

“Thank you, I rest my case...” Mai-Loan said.

“And I flew her with Mai-Loan as RIO,” Angie chuckled.

“But ... But I thought she was sold to the United States?”

“Bandit ain’t gone yet. She’s in our hangar out at Overberg, together with a mirage 2000 N, three Mirage 2000 Cs and one you might recall from your Air Force days, the Black Widow.”

“Nooo, you guys are too much! Were you contracted to extract that person last night?”

“Yes, you could say so. You’re standing next to that person we extracted. Roxy, meet the pilot of the Task Force Bus,” Lorie said. “He flew in your rescuers last night.”

“Oh wow, thanks, Ronny,” she said shyly.

Ronny smiled and turned on the charm again. “Are you part of this circus, Sunshine?”

“Sort of ... I do get paid,” Giggle. Ronny turned to Mai-Loan.

“Here is my card. I would love to work with you guys.”

“Ain’t flying for SAPS enough adrenaline for you?” I asked him.

“Considering, the danger pay and Scarce Skills Allowance, I am still only a captain with no promotion prospects. I’m not a policeman, and my rank is only a pay notch. I want to do more than just fly around and circle bloody crime scenes. With you guys I can maybe even fly Mach two point two capable aircraft!” he elaborated and winked at Angie.

“Hey buster, don’t you flirt with me in front of my boyfriend, AND, Black Widow and Bandit are mine! Lay off!” she challenged, the green eyes firing cold missiles at him.

“Touchy! Okay, looks like I just spoiled my chances of getting a job with you,” Ronny said, looking dejected and sorry. Okay, I did see the movie “Shrek,” and that little kitty, “Puss in Boots,” could play this trick too. This guy is good. Of course, it did not work on Angie, she saw the movie too.

“Yeah, my toys are my toys, and you don’t get to break them!” Angie fired, and the girls all burst out laughing.

“Don’t mess with Angie, she’ll fry you good!” Lorie chuckled.

“Seems so. Sorry Angie, I did not mean YOUR toys.”

“Good! Now keep it so.” Angie said.

“Just maybe, I could just touch Black Widow? I mean I did fly her before,” Ronny tried to rescue his loss in the tussle with Angie.

“Maybe ... IF you behave,” she replied, turned, flicking her red hair over her shoulders, and said, “Looks like we’re not getting home soon. Let me go make some coffee. You want some, Ronny?”

“Yeah ... Thank you. It sounds good. Just don’t put rat poison in mine.”

“It’s a thought, Ronny, but I’m not that sort of bitch,” she tossed back as she walked over to the little kitchenette in the corner of the hangar. The girls were all trying unsuccessfully to hide giggles behind their hands. I placed my hand on Ronny’s shoulder.

“Come, Ron, let’s go sit down a while,” I said. “This standing around makes me jittery.”

After Ronny left, we all piled into the SUV and Mai-Loan drove us back to the house in Newlands. I suppose the neighbours would be happy that the Puma was not there anymore, but since there’s a hangar on the property, they would be aware that a helicopter would land there from time to time.

Getting home posed a little problem in that the girls suddenly remembered supper, and that there was not much in the way of food in the pantry. This led to me suggesting a braai and Mai-Loan elected to go out and get some stuff for a braai and whatever else is needed. Together with Nadia and Angie (the two redheads together), the three left in the Jeep.

I went out to the braai area next to the pool, trying to see what I could do in the meantime. There was plenty of wood for a roaring inferno, so I started the festivities by packing the wood on the altar where we would sacrifice some slabs of beef.

“One braai coming up! It’s about time that we are having a braai,” Boomer said at my back.

“Hey! Don’t sneak up on me. I might just whack you with this piece of hardwood!” I said, and Boomer chuckled.

“Nope! I learned long ago to dodge that kind of retaliation.”

“Where’s TC and the rest of the gang?”

“Playing snooker in the games room.”

“You not playing?”

“Nope! I was relegated ‘persona non grata,’ and told to go and play PC games.”

“And why would you be termed as ‘persona non grata’?” I asked bending down and putting a match to the tinder wood for starting the fire.

“Because I hold the 2011 All England Snooker Champion title.” Boomer snickered. “It would be unfair to them.”

“Makes good sense to me. You’re the ‘11 Snooker Champion?”

“Sorry, but that’s me. I got lots of practice being deployed during the Afghanistan crap back in ‘09.

“So, you saw some action against al-Qaeda?”

“Yip, but my role was more in the line of going out and making things go BOOM! That left me lots of time to knock the old white ball around the flat top green felt.”

“I suppose you got some nice trick shots.”

“Yea, but don’t tell anyone...” he whispered, then chuckled. “So, what are we sacrificing tonight?”

“Mai-Loan and Angie threatened two-inch-thick rib-eye steaks.”

“Yummy! I think I’ll go check out the liquid refreshment stock.”

“And while you are at it, bring us a something on ice.”

“Will do. I know your poison!” And Boomer walked off to the bar area. My cell phone chimed an incoming call. Rashaad.

“Yip, what’s up?”

“They blew up my BMW. Killed five of my men!” Rashaad wailed, and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. I could hear the tremor in his voice: fear!

“Whoa there Lofty. Calm down and tell me what happened.”

“I sent my trusted men to go get the merchandise you asked for. They did some other errands for me too. On the way back, and not two klicks from here, the BMW went legs up in a ball of fire.”

“Okay ... Who? Do you know?”

“Nakamura! Some of my men saw white clad Japanese guys with tattoos leave the scene.”

“Lofty, I think it’s time I go meet mister Nakamura, and I promise you, it will not be nice!” I said.

“What are you going do?”

“Gently persuade him to leave the country...”

“What should I do in the meantime?”

“Use your imagination. Stay out of sight. Stay indoors and ... organize your own funeral...”

“WHAT!”

“Lofty ... You are supposed to be dead. Play the part!”

Chuckle. “Okay, Joe, I get your point.”

“Sorry to hear about your death, Lofty. Just remember; I’m not coming to your funeral, because you won’t be able to come to mine!” Snicker.

“It could be a thought, as the word of mouth on the street is that Williams is dead. The other leaders are up in arms because Nakamura is starting to put the squeeze on them.”

“How so, Lofty?”

“It seems he wants them to pay some protection money and stay out of his territory. He’s claiming the city and parts of the northern suburbs.”

“It seems like it is unavoidable that I go visit him.”

“You are walking into a lion’s den. He’ll wipe the floor with you!”

“Don’t be so sure, Lofty. You just play dead long enough for me to chat to our mutual friend. When he is surrounded by his Yakuza friends, he feels high and mighty, but take them out of the equation, then he is just a sorry lonely piece of shit.”

“You need manpower. You can’t just walk into his place with no backup!”

“Who said I’ll be going it alone? You don’t know me Lofty. I have professional backup.”

“Those seven security girls you have won’t be enough. Let me send you some of my best soldiers.”

“No, Lofty. For now, stay put and stay out of it. Let the professionals handle it.”

“Shall I arrange your funeral so long? I can even get you a Kwaito singer? Or how about a real Soul and Blues singer. Someone that can get the crowd going with a heart-felt rendition of Amazing Grace?” he chuckled, then slightly softer added; “I might have a bag of onions around here somewhere ... it can help in producing some tears...”

“Nope! Just sit tight for a few hours and use the onions for your own funeral procession. Remember, you died during the daylight hours, YOU must be buried before sundown.” I laughed.

“Lucky they don’t know how many persons were in the Beamer. I can use one of those bodies to represent me.” Rashaad said. “You know what they say here on the Flats, if you go for a gun fight, be prepared to dig two graves...”

“I won’t be doing any digging, but Nakamura might.”

“It was nice knowing you...”

“Lofty. Pipe down now, and let me get going!”

“Good. Hope to see you soon. I’ll say a special prayer to Allah, the Creator, bless his holy name, for guidance and protection for you...” And Rashaad disconnected.

I dialled a number and waited on the three rings.

“Speak to me...”

“The shit has hit the fan. Nakamura is moving on the street gangs.”

“How so?”

“Men in white clothing and looking like Japanese Yakuza blew up Rashaad’s BMW. Now Nakamura is moving in on the other gangs by demanding protection money and claiming the city bowl and northern suburbs as his territory.”

“Time to exterminate the rats...”

“In town? With all the cops and other law enforcement agencies crawling around?”

“Do it discreetly. Do it fast and get out. Use Nadia for the hit. She knows her stuff.”

“We’re not hitmen! We don’t do stuff like that!”

“Don’t see it as a hit, rather as putting a tortured and injured animal out of our misery. Do it clean and quick...”

“Are you always so philosophical?”

“Time you start thinking about the correct ways of dealing with problems. That’s why I hired you lot, to make my problems go away...”