Chapter 7

November 11, 19:05 Cape Town. “The Lonely Traveller” Nightclub.

The music continued to play, and the dance continued. The music grew louder as more customers entered. People and smoke gradually filled the space. Despite the law, smoking was tolerated within this facility, particularly of the green sort. This popular social activity was practised by the majority of the visiting choir boys and girls. Other recreational activities included the use of special energy cocktail beverages, and often little white vitamin tablets were taken. This was a common occurrence in this area. The participants in these activities will be coping with headaches, lack of sleep, the next day, and maybe an unwelcome pregnancy a few weeks later.

Rashaad stood in front of me with a grin on his face, certain that the situation was in his favour. He shifted his weight to the left, lifting his hand over his head and flicking his fingers in a signal to his comrades. There was no action. Irritated, he gave the signal again. Nonetheless, nothing occurred. I smiled and sipped on my Scotch.

His sneer vanished as he turned to face his cronies behind him. Slowly, it dawned on him that his companions were not going to join him or take part in any of his directives. All four of his associates were nowhere near us. In reality, two blond ladies were marching the cohorts gently up the steps to the balcony above.

While Rashaad’s back was turned to us, Nadia moved in a blur from next to me, swinging her left leg out and reaching beneath her skirt, her pistol came out in one smooth action, while Angie downed her Martini in one swallow on my left side, pulled a face, and giggled.

Rashaad wanted to turn back to me now that he was alone, but he froze before he could complete the turn. He realised his error too late by turning away from me and the two redheads. A 9-millimetre parabellum’s cold steel muzzle was pushing on his back.

“Go ahead, make my night,” Nadia hissed into Rashaad’s ear. “Keep your hands in sight, and walk slowly to the door, asshole.” She was so close to him, no one could see the gun pressing into his back.

The bar brawl was over before it began. I glanced to my right and saw the girl bartender with her cell phone pressed to her ear. Okay, she needed to call this little skirmish in, and we need to move. Pronto! No need to wait on any “help” that may arrive.

“Okay, slime ball, walk out the door,” I ordered, as I rose from the bar seat, gulped my Scotch, and drained the glass. Knowing he was out manoeuvred and had to go, Rashaad went slowly to the door followed by Nadia, Angie, and me.

Leah and Olivia came down from the left side staircase, having secured the four cronies. Darya was having a talk with the two bouncers at the entry door. I wondered what she had to say to them, but it had an impact because as we approached, they stood aside, and we were able to pass through the door without incident. A stunned Rashaad walked like a puppet on a string.

Once outside, Lorie in the Nissan SUV and Mai-Loan with the Jeep Cherokee pulled up behind the Audi, successfully blocking the two-lane street. Leah and Olivia took over the care of Rashaad from Nadia and bundled him into the back of the Jeep. Nadia got into the Jeep as well. With four Angels around him, Rashaad was in for the ride of his life. Darya slipped into the Nissan with Lorie.

Angie and I got into the Audi and pulled away, followed by the Jeep and the Nissan. Our little motorcade sped up towards Kloofnek road and eventually, Chapmans Peak Road. I had a plan for mister Rashaad Williams.

“My nerves are on end. I need some major cuddling,” Angie said.

“Wow! Is this the same girl that nearly killed those two guys in Lüderitz?” I asked, grinning.

“I was angry then! You haven’t seen me bloody angry.”

“Four times, Redhead!”

“Four times, when?”

“One, that first night we met, you clobbered those two guys who wanted to kidnap you; two, the time those scum-balls broke into your house in Swakop; three, the time Max wanted to kidnap you in your uncle’s garden, and four, the evening in the Namib Desert, when old Max tried to kidnap you, again.” I recounted while still looking ahead and concentrating on driving up Kloofnek road. (See Desert Rose.)

“Oh...” Giggle. “That last one was the night I got shot, and Darya came to seek comfort from you, for missing the shot at Max.”

“Yeah...” I said, remembering the night in the starlit Namib Desert. (See Desert Rose.)

“Do you like her, Ash? I mean, do you like Darya?”

“She’s an okay friend.”

“Only a friend, or...”

“Angie, stop it. I love you, and only you.”

“I just thought...”

“Nothing.”

“She needs love, too...”

“She’ll find it.”

“And in the meantime?”

“Angie, where is this going?”

“Ash, you can love Darya too. Not love, like in making love to her, but you can be good to her, let her feel she is a valuable person. Feel that she is worth something to other people. Give her a hug or two sometime ... tell her she is of value to you...”

“I can?”

“Yes. You can. Help her, Ash. Help my friend...”

“Treat her like ... my daughter?”

“That would be nice.”

“But we are exclusive. You and me?”

“We’ll be exclusive. The two of us...”

“Angie?”

“Yes?”

“I love you...”

“I love you too, you big bonehead!”

“You spend too much time around sticky-icky Lorie! You’ve started calling me the same names that she does.”

Giggle.

November 11, 20:15 Cape Town. Chapmans Peak drive, Unnamed location.

Three cars were parked on a secluded grass-covered parking spot along Chapmans Peak drive. The low whistle of the breeze could just be heard as it pushed through the brush on the slope under the road. Looking over the edge of the cliff, the sea beneath shimmered in the moonlight.

Above us, the black bastions of the Twelve Apostles Mountain range loomed ominous in the night. To the north of us, the flickering lights of Hout Bay harbour could be seen. In the calm of the night and above the sound of the breeze, the drumming of the breaking waves on the rocks below faintly reached us here on the slope.

Angie, Lorie, Nadia and Darya tended to the cars while Mai-Loan, Olivia, Leah and I interviewed Mister Williams.

With his hands secured with cable ties behind his back, a black cloth sack over his head, and three fully loaded diver weight belts around his waist, Williams stood trembling on the edge of the 600-metre drop to the ocean. Or so he thought. It is scary as to what the mind makes you believe, if you cannot see.

“You wanted to do this to me, now the boards have been changed, and it’s you who is standing here. How does it feel, Lofty?” I asked and smirked.

“You wouldn’t dare!” he hissed.

“Famous last words. How many unfortunate souls have you dropped from here onto the rocks and into the sea, Rashaad? Tell me, how does it feel to now be in that place? Now, tell me about the Japanese guy. Why is he giving me shit?”

“I don’t know. Now, let me go!”

“Okay’...” I said and pushed Rashaad hard in the back. Screaming he stumbled a few paces and was brought up sharp by the rope tied to his back. He lost his footing and with his hands tied and not being able to counter his fall, he fell down hard on his face. I hauled him back up and helped him to his feet.

“Now, next time you are being an asshole, there won’t be a rope to catch you. So, speak up!” I said and made a show of untying the rope around his waist. Rashaad was quiet, and still trembling. He had no idea if I’d let him fall over the cliff or not.

“I ... I only know that the Japanese wants to get a business going here in Cape Town. He will facilitate some merchandise for us in exchange for us not intruding on his business.” Rashaad blurted.

“And the other gangs, will he supply them too?”

“Maybe, I don’t know what he thinks or how he operates.”

“Then why did he so desperately wanted to see one of my girls?”

“He said she killed his father,” Rashaad said, and I now had conformation that Daiki was after Mai-Loan.

“Wrong girl!” I said, knowing that Rashaad will relay this info to Daiki.

“How a wrong girl?” Rashaad asked.

“The one you wanted to kidnap is an Iraqi girl, who does not speak Japanese.

“How would I know? I only did what he asked me.

“Ez Iraqî me,” Mai-Loan said in Kurdish and repeated it in Arabic. “Ana eiraqi.” (I am Iraqi.) Rashad understood the Arabic language that is associated with Islam and is the language of the Holy Qur’an, which Muslims believe to be God’s words. Rashaad was a Muslim.

“As-Salam-u-Alaikum,” (Peace be unto you.) Rashaad turned to Mai-Loan’s voice and greeted her in Arabic. I knew there was going to be a new accord in our relationship with Rashaad as Mai-Loan answered Rashaad back in Arabic.

“Wa-Alaikumussalam wa-Rahmatullah.” (May the peace, mercy, and blessings of Allah be upon you.)

“Remove his hood, Master Joe, my master and caregiver.” Mai-Loan said, and I complied, but leaving the cable ties in place on his hands. I understood where Mai-Loan was going. The culture thing. Olivia and Leah did their best to suppress smirks.

“Now, Lofty, can we talk? Tell me why YOU want Doctor Rothman.”

Not anymore. I know she had told you about the weapons in the cave. You now know that they were mine. So, I don’t need her anymore.”

“Yet, earlier tonight you wanted to hold her sisters. How is that now corresponding with your latest statement that you don’t need her anymore?”

“I will help you. I will help you with info on the Japanese guy.”

“He is of no concern to me. I will squash him like I squash everyone getting in my way. Tell him so!”

“I will be your eyes and ears with the Japanese. It is like you said. They want to invade our territory here in Cape Town. I will not let that happen.”

“If you cross me, Mister Williams, you will most certainly regret it.”

“Truce!” Rashaad said.

“Let’s tend his wounds and take him back to Long Street,” I said, making up my mind, letting Rashaad believe I am giving him a second chance.

“I will tend to him, Master Joe, my master and caregiver,” Mai-Loan said, and I thought that she was trying for an Oscar award. Both Leah and Olivia turned away so that Rashaad could not see them smirk.

“Good! So be it. And remind him of crossing us.” I said, turned and walked up the hill towards the road and the cars. A battle was won; the war, not over yet.

November 11. 21:35. Cape Town. Arthur’s Club.

Down on the main club venue, things were going as with any club of this nature. Bodies were swaying to the music, and later in the night, money and liquor flowed even more freely. The fog of the rising smoke mixed with that of the DJ’s pyrotechnics hung in the air. The usual mix of people were in the club, and they would party until 04:00 or 05:00, when the last of the patrons would stagger out to wherever they came from.

Daiki Nakamura was lounging in his “office.” The last day or two had been an eye-opener to him. Although not used to the night-life and raging parties of nightclubs, he was contemplating changing his idea of making Arthur’s a respectable place. Even changing the name of the club was pushed to the sidelines. The money that rolled in was good. He did not need the money, but it would be a little side income for him.

And the attention he got from some of the female patrons was at least putting a smile on his face. As he saw it, some pinching the cat in the dark could bring a welcome relief to him.

The thought of the bitch of a Vietnamese slipping through his fingers bothered him, but there’s plenty time to rectify the problem. Someone will make a mistake, and he will be ready to pounce.

Daiki thought of something else. If the Vietnamese bitch is here in Cape Town, where will her aircraft and associates be? That guy she was with the other night was none of the ones he saw at that airfield out in Northwest Province. No, they were still there. Was her contract with them ended? Was she just hired help? Then who killed his father? It was believed to be a Japanese girl or someone looking like a Japanese girl.

As on cue, his cell phone rang. Irritated that it broke his train of thought, he answered. It was Rashaad Williams.

“Good day, Rashaad. A little late in the evening to be calling me.”

“I have news. News about the Vietnamese woman.”

“And?”

“They were in my club tonight. Two redheads and the guy from up north. Apparently, there’s a third redhead. The one I seek was not with them,” Rashaad said and deliberately did not mention the little interaction with the visitors.

“What has that got to do with the Vietnamese girl?”

“Well, she was also there, and I spoke to her. She’s not Vietnamese. She’s Iraqi, speaks fluent Arabic and Kurdish. Not something a Vietnamese would do. She is also Muslim.”

“She’s too fair skinned to be an Iraqi. You are mistaken.”

“Have you seen Iraqi girls and women?”

“Few, but I just know you are mistaken,” Daiki said in a whisper, feeling his world collapsing due to this news.

“Mister Nakamura, I can’t partake in any action to harm this woman. My religion forbids it.”

“Yet you sell drugs to teenagers and school boys and girls. How does the Holy Quran direct on that?”

“I say again, Mister Nakamura, I will not partake in any action to harm this girl or cause her death.”

“You say she is Iraqi, yet her name she goes by, is Vietnamese. Explain that.”

“I don’t know, Mister Nakamura, I don’t know, but as a fellow follower of the faith, I must defend her, I have to...”

“Good. You made your choice,” Daiki said.

“Our business together still stands, just leave me out of any plans to hurt or kill this woman. Is that clear?”

“As clear as day, Mister Williams. Just, how can I trust you with our other business? You go around shooting members of rival gangs, killing them, yet you refuse to help me with the bitch who killed my father and other business associates. How is that then?”

“That is war, self-defence. Yours is a vendetta.”

“Then so be it. I will find and terminate the woman on my own.”

“Mister Nakamura, please understand that your vendetta could cost you your business here in Cape Town. We can’t stand by and have a fellow Muslim be harmed. Let it be, for the sake of your other business.”

“Are you threatening me, Rashaad?”

“No, I’m telling you to not underestimate the Muslim community. They stand together and protect their own.”

“She is from outside the community.”

“She is Muslim, that is all that counts. She is part of the community by believing in the faith.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mister Williams. For that I respect you. Now, I will think on it. Good night, Mister Williams,” and he disconnected the call. Of all the audacity! To tell him to let the bitch go. Daiki was furious, beside himself with rage. How can that sod of a Cape Flats Coon tell him what to do!

Daiki got up from his lounge chair and threw his whisky glass against the facing wall. The glass shattered into a thousand sharp shards, the remaining whisky staining the cheap paint on the wall. Little rivulets of whisky slowly ran down the wall and over the skirting board, to soak into the carpet at the base of the wall.

Daiki was trembling, a feeling he only experienced once before. That time the leopard wanted to have him for lunch, while he was watching the bitch preflighting and fly her helicopter. (See Stray Cats Hunt in Darkness.)

November 11. 22:00 Overberg Base.

Being late in the evening, the girls all declined to have a mug of coffee and departed for their respective quarters. Mai-Loan, being Overmaster Air Boss, reminded us all about the mission briefing at 06:00 and the full complement flight at 09:00. This was met with groans from Leah and Olivia. Nadia was smiling, for she had a loose draw, as Darya would play RIO for me.

“And, Angie, take your matches and go light up the fire on Black Widow. You’ll be going out at 08:45 to a holding patten I will give you as you enter the cockpit,” Mai said.

“Will I be the prey then?” Angie asked, and I thought; ‘What a tasty prey that would be!’

“No. Tomorrow you’ll be the aggressor. I have secured four air-to-air missile simulator pods, or ACMI systems. One on each Mirage. But let’s leave the detail for tomorrow morning’s briefing. Angie, I’ll brief you first.”

(Authors note: ACMI SYSTEM. (Air Combat Manoeuvring Instrumentation System.)

“So, I get to take out the other three? Yee-haw!”, and Angie twirled around on her small feet, splaying that long skirt out and giving me a glimpse of those sexy slender legs.

“Not if I can help it!” Olivia said. “You’re going down girl. You and that relic of a ‘vlamgat’ you call an aircraft!”

“We’ll see, sister. We’ll see.”

“You can’t out manoeuvre me. I have the edge in the 2000, your relic is 50 years past its sell-by date!”

“Famous last words! Eat a good, big breakfast tomorrow, it will be your last! My missiles are still way inside their shelf-life!” Angie hit back.

Then the girls left with Leah and Olivia, giggling as they went out the door. Mai-Loan just shook her head and smiled. Good-natured rivalry in the squad is good, but she has a plan. She smiled deviously without the others seeing and started to formulate her plan.

As the rest of the girls departed, Angie and Darya turned to me.

“Not coffee, but hot chocolate will go down good,” Darya said.

“I’ll make it,” Angie said and started to get the makings together.

“You think you can out fly Olivia, Angie?” I asked.

“Maybe not in a dogfight, but what she doesn’t know is that the systems on Black Widow was upgraded to SAAB Gripen standard. I have long range and medium range capability. I can take her down from 50 kilometres, and she won’t even know it! The missile systems on that ‘old relic of a vlamgat,’ are more modern than hers.” Giggle. “Now, hot chocolate coming up.”

“Shit, what did Grumpy Charley pay for that trip?”

“About five million ... He is thinking of upgrading the rest of the Mirages too ... But I may be shooting my mouth.”

“You know Charley?”