The Protector E-Book

Tony Park

• Herausgeber: Ingwe Publishing
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Professor Denise ‘Doc’ Rado is South Africa’s expert on pangolins, busting poachers and freeing the endangered anteaters in elaborate undercover stings.
After a risky operation backfires, Doc’s life is shattered, but she still has to lead an eclectic group of donors on a wildlife tour of southern Africa.
But there’s a target on her back.
As the safari ventures deep into Africa, Doc fears they’re being followed and she will do anything to keep them all safe – especially Ian Laidlaw, a handsome Australian businessman turned accidental philanthropist.
Is Doc being hunted by the poachers she once fought, or is there some other bloodthirsty predator prowling the wilderness?
Another gripping thriller by the master of adventure about rescue, revenge and redemption, and the things we do to protect the ones we love.   

Leseprobe

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tony Park was born in 1964 and grew up in the western suburbs of Sydney. He has worked as a newspaper reporter, a press secretary, a PR consultant and a freelance writer. He also served 34 years in the Australian Army Reserve, including six months as a public affairs officer in Afghanistan in 2002. He and his wife, Nicola, divide their time between Australia and southern Africa. He is the author of twenty-one other novels about Africa and several biographies.

www.tonypart.net

ALSO BY TONY PARK

Far Horizon

Zambezi

African Sky

Safari

Silent Predator

Ivory

The Delta

African Dawn

Dark Heart

The Prey

The Hunter

An Empty Coast

Red Earth

The Cull

Captive

Scent of Fear

Ghosts of the Past

Last Survivor

Blood Trail

The Pride

Vendetta

Part of the Pride, with Kevin Richardson

War Dogs, with Shane Bryant

The Grey Man, with John Curtis

Courage Under Fire, with Daniel Keighran VC

No One Left Behind, with Keith Payne VC

Rhino War, with Major General (Ret.) Johan Jooste

Bwana, There’s a Body in the Bath! with Peter Whitehead

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Acknowledgments

THE PROTECTOR

TONY PARK

First published by Pan Macmillan Australia in 2024 This edition published in 2024 by Ingwe Publishing

Copyright © Tony Park 2024 www.ingwepublishing.com

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

The Protector

EPUB: 9781922825292

POD: 9781922825285

Cover design by Leandra Wicks

For Nicola

PROLOGUE

In a room with nicotine-smelling curtains pulled closed and the ashtray overflowing, the radio told tales of crime and corruption, load shedding and rugby losses, a ruler indicted and the rand in freefall.

He cleaned his rifle.

Outside, the Johannesburg traffic hummed and taxis hooted. He ignored the distractions, his hands working with practised ease as he reassembled the weapon. It was a cliché, but he could do this blindfolded.

He wiped down each of the .338-calibre rounds. A bullet gleamed in his hands in the reflected lamplight, and he marvelled at its simple beauty and power, from the pointed copper-jacketed tip of the projectile to the stamped brass base of the cartridge and primer.

His fingers were stained, the gun oil and carbon ingrained in the creases and pores. He breathed deep. This was the scent of his profession, of his life, and it always brought the memories flooding back. From the bone-chilling damp of the Brecon Beacons where he had trained as a member of the British Army’s Parachute Regiment – a UK passport courtesy of his English-born parents had allowed him to enlist – to the scorching dust-blown plains of Afghanistan and the lush ‘green zones’ where the Afghans cultivated their maize and dagga, and tried to hide from his bullets.

He had found the enemy, though, as he watched over the other paras like a guardian angel, and he’d killed them, without excitement, without regret, just as a good sniper should.

There were no photographs of him in uniform on the walls of the one-room apartment, nothing on his phone, and none on his computer. There was no evidence of his time in the war, nor as a woolly-haired, bearded military contractor in Iraq, nor even of his time as a Parabat in the South African National Defence Force. Very few of his very few friends even knew he had served.

When he had returned to South Africa, after Afghan, there was nothing he was qualified to do. His mother tried to help, but he’d walked out on a string of jobs, though he was now trying to study. He was quick to anger, and too fond of a lunchtime beer or an early brandy. The army of the country of his birth had provided a temporary refuge and he’d killed again, in Bangui, where they had been surrounded by the Seleka rebels and he had been shot, and in Mozambique, where he’d taken lives in the name of keeping the peace.

But the anger and the flashbacks and the drinking had brought him undone again and he was once more a civilian. Since he’d left the army, he’d had no purpose, no cause to fight for, nothing worth dying for. That had changed when she had opened up to him.

She was the only thing that mattered to him now. He took her picture from his breast pocket and stared at her.

She needed him, more than anyone else in this world. He loved her. He kissed the photo.

He would kill for her, and she would thank him. Soon.

1

Doc drew her Glock pistol from the holster in the small of her back with her right hand and checked her online dating app with her left as she sat behind the wheel of her slightly dented Ford Ranger double-cab bakkie.

Captain Jurie van Rensburg, in the passenger seat next to her, glanced her way. ‘Seriously? You’re looking for a date? Right now?’

‘I’m deleting my profile.’

‘What about Ralph?’ he asked.

She frowned. ‘I’ve told you all there is to know about him and he knows all about you. We’re just friends, and if he wants to stay as my platonic friend he must come out of the shadows, put down his computer and phone, and meet me – and you – in person.’

Jurie blew her a kiss. ‘Thanks. But you’d better put it away now anyway, Denise.’

‘The phone or the pistol?’

He smiled at her and she felt her heart skip. Jurie nodded towards the entry to the open-air car park at Eastgate Mall, in the Johannesburg suburb of Bedfordview. A black BMW X5 SUV with Limpopo province registration had just driven in. ‘Both. It’s showtime.’

Dr Denise Rado, ‘Doc’ to her friends and ‘Prof’ to her students, shifted in the driver’s seat and slid the phone into the right rear pocket of her jeans. She quickly eased back the slide of her Glock to check the round was chambered, and replaced the pistol in its holster. She made sure her white T-shirt covered the weapon.

It was Sunday morning, half an hour before all the mall stores opened at 9.30 am. The car park was mostly empty, apart from staff vehicles, some early shoppers at the Checkers Hyper supermarket and a few people who had come for breakfast at the Wimpy. The team had chosen the time and place well – there were enough people coming and going that the undercovers didn’t stick out, but not so many that civilians would be at risk if things went bad.

‘All call signs,’ Jurie said into a handheld radio, ‘target vehicle has entered the car park. No move until Doc gives the signal.’

They had run through the plan at Doc’s house at 7 am that morning, over coffee and rusks, with her mother, Kanta, fussing over them all as always. There were eight of them in the task team. Jurie, the captain from the Stock Theft and Endangered Species unit in Pretoria, was in charge of the operation, and Thabo Radebe, one of the STES warrant officers, was his second in command.

Thabo was standing at the takeaway counter of the Wimpy near the entrance to the mall. ‘Copy,’ he said.

‘Copy,’ said Pam Galloway, a zoologist from Gauteng Nature Conservation who was also a member of the Environmental Management Inspectorate, better known as the Green Scorpions, responsible for enforcing South Africa’s laws relating to wildlife and plants. Pam emerged from the Checkers, pushing a trolley at a leisurely pace. Her husband, Frank, who was ambling along beside Pam, was also a police captain, though he was a member of the Directorate for Priority Crime Investigation – the Hawks – based in Pretoria.

‘Backup car, copy,’ said Detective Sergeant Jason Chow, sitting in his own white Toyota HiLux at the far end of the car park. Jason was a new volunteer on the Pangolin Task Team. He’d told Doc and his superior, Frank Galloway, that he wanted a break from busting murderers and drug dealers. Jason’s job was to provide an immediate police response, by driving right up to Doc as soon as she gave the pre-arranged signal that the deal was confirmed.

‘Candid Camera, ready. Copy.’ Sara Skjold’s English was crisp, with just the faintest trace of a Norwegian accent. The thirty-year-old filmmaker had lived in South Africa since before COVID and had convinced Doc that she should make a documentary about pangolins and, specifically, Denise Rado’s work to bring down the illegal trade in the animals. Jurie had been less than keen, but Doc had persuaded him that the species needed the airtime. Doc had accepted that she would have to pull back from taking the lead undercover role in sting operations once the documentary went public, and her identity became widely known, but the way her personal life was evolving right now meant that might be a good idea. Until then, she still had a few more operations in her.

‘All call signs stand by,’ Jurie said, then lowered his radio and looked at Doc. ‘Team Rainbow Nation, ready to go.’

She smiled through gritted teeth as she watched the X5 creep through the car park. She hadn’t planned it, but her mix of civilians and police came from South Africa’s diverse cultures, united by one thing: their disgust at the trade in one of the country’s endangered species.

‘Doc . . .’

She turned to face Jurie. He swivelled his head, making a final check of all the operatives he could see.

‘What?’ Doc asked.

He leaned over and kissed her.

‘Jurie . . .’

He grinned. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I love you.’

She felt herself blush. ‘Me as well.’ Doc opened the driver’s-side door.

‘Be careful, Doc.’

She looked back at him and nodded.

Doc got out and pulled her DKNY baseball cap firmly down. When she took off her hat, it would be the signal for them all to go in, but that wouldn’t happen until she had eyes on the pangolin. There was no guarantee the poachers would even have the animal with them at this meeting.

This far from the mall entrance there were few cars. Doc’s long-limbed stride was brisk and confident as she walked towards the black BMW, belying the turmoil she felt in her gut. It was normal for her to be a little nervous on a bust, but it was Jurie’s words, the kiss, and the speed at which their relationship had progressed from friends to lovers that unsettled her most. She tried to force him from her mind, but it was nearly impossible.

As she approached, she waved to the driver of the BMW X5, who braked and slowed, then, after a moment’s hesitation, accelerated towards her.

For a moment Doc wondered whether the man was about to run her over. His engine revved hard as he rushed towards her. Doc looked around. There was a light pole ten metres to her left. She veered towards it; she could duck behind it and draw her pistol if this clown didn’t slow down.

But the driver took his foot off the accelerator and coasted up to her.

‘Morning, howzit,’ Doc said as the tinted window came down. Two men sat in the car.

‘You’re a woman,’ said the driver.

‘And you’re a man.’ She smiled brightly.

‘You’re Indian.’

Doc held in her grimace. ‘Half. Steven, I assume?’

He nodded, slowly, and at the same time he seemed to be inspecting her from head to toe. ‘Very nice to meet you.’

‘Let’s get down to business, shall we?’

‘I should have known you were Indian by the way you bargained me down.’ He laughed as he got out of the four-by-four.

She let the racial slur wash over her. His English was good and with a name like Steven Muzorewa she thought that her initial guess, that he might be Zimbabwean, was correct. He had a shaved head, gold necklace and an expensive leather jacket that hung open over a paunch that spoke of some prosperity.

‘You have the money?’

‘It’s close by. I’ll fetch it once I see the goods,’ she said.

He smiled, showing a tooth that matched his bling. ‘Cautious as well as hard-nosed. And easy on the eye.’

‘I don’t want to get hijacked.’

It had happened once, on an earlier bust, where instead of pulling off an elaborate undercover operation the task team had found itself the victim of a reverse sting. The man Doc had been dealing with on WhatsApp, her preferred method of communication, had been only pretending he had a pangolin. Two cars had arrived and a gun battle had broken out as two men with AK-47s emerged from one of the criminal vehicles, ready to seize the R180,000 Doc had agreed to pay for the phantom pangolin. Fortunately, her task team had had superior firepower and the Hawks officers had killed one of the gunmen and wounded the other before arresting the guy who was supposedly selling the pangolin.

‘Clever.’

‘Tatenda.’

‘Haha,’ Steven said. ‘You are also from Zimbabwe?’

‘No,’ Doc said, ‘but I had a Zimbabwean boyfriend once. It’s a beautiful country. Now, let me see the goods.’

Steven looked to the man he had arrived with, who was standing by the passenger-side front door. He was thin, with a goatee beard; he had his right hand just inside the open leather jacket he wore.

Guns. Doc kept her cool. ‘You did bring it, right?’

‘I didn’t think you would show up,’ Steven said.

‘Yet here I am.’ Was he playing for time? Suspicious? The accomplice’s eyes were roaming the car park. Doc knew everyone on the task team well, except for Jason Chow, who was a replacement for Dirkie van der Merwe. Van’s first child had just been born and he was on leave, which had opened up the slot for keen young Jason to step in.

‘You told me to stop wasting your time when I asked for half a million rand. You said you would not meet me,’ Steven said.

Doc shrugged. ‘You agreed to my final price – one-eighty.’ Doc had learned by trial and error how to run a sting, and by listening to Jurie and the others on the team who had worked undercover in the past.

The rules were set in stone. You never agreed to a meeting on the first call; if you were too keen the seller would smell a rat. She bargained hard, always driving the price down, just like a real middleman would do. And she never showed the money at the first meeting.

‘Show me the money,’ Steven said.

‘Goodbye.’ Doc turned and took two steps.

‘Wait.’

Doc stopped and faced him again. Steven held up a hand to her, then took a phone out of his pocket and tapped an SMS.

Over Steven’s shoulder she saw a battered Nissan bakkie with a canopy drive into the car park and bypass dozens of empty spots close to the mall. The vehicle cruised up to them. There was one man behind the wheel.

‘Friend of yours?’ Doc said.

‘Yes. I suggest you call your “friend” or whomever has the money. I’ll show you the goods, then I want to see the cash straight away.’

‘All right.’ Doc took out her phone and sent Jurie an SMS. Move in closer. He wants to see the money once he shows me the package. Second car coming – Nissan.

The reply came immediately. Affirmative.

Steven nodded to the Ford Ranger, which Jurie, now in the driver’s seat, moved about 50 metres closer. ‘The money?’

Doc nodded. The Nissan drove up and stopped next to the X5. Steven beckoned to the driver, who got out but left the engine running. The new arrival had a weathered look about him, and grass stains on the knees of his blue overall trousers, unlike Steven, whose clothes and physique were urban.

‘Is he the guy who found it?’ Doc asked Steven.

‘He works on a farm. We’re related. But I’m handling the financial side of things. Understood?’

Doc nodded. There was no honour among thieves and she knew the guy in the bakkie would only have seen a fraction of what Steven thought he was going to make. The farmer opened the rear hatch and tailgate of the Nissan, and Doc and Steven went to him. Steven’s offsider held his position by the X5, his eyes still sweeping the car park, which was now filling up as more early-morning shoppers showed up, keen to beat the crowds.

Doc registered Pam and Frank, slowly packing their groceries into the boot of their Toyota Fortuner. Pam really had done her weekly shopping to kill time before the rendezvous.

In her peripheral vision Doc saw a car moving from the opposite end of the car park, away from the entry and any other shops that were open. It was Jason in his HiLux.

What the fuck? Why isn’t he waiting for my signal?

She forced her gaze back to the Nissan, where the farmer was using a screwdriver to begin prising open the lid of a wooden crate. A few token holes had been drilled in the timbers of the homemade cage.

Steven’s offsider had been glaring at Jurie, now that he knew that Jurie was Doc’s number two and presumably the man with the money, but then he turned his attention to Jason’s oncoming HiLux. Jason was driving across the white line markings of the empty car spaces; he was still about three hundred metres away from them, but he was heading directly towards the three vehicles parked alone in a still-empty corner of the car park. The thin man called something to Steven, in what Doc assumed was Shona.

‘What is it?’ Steven replied in English.

The man in the overalls finally removed the lid. Doc leaned into the cab and smelled damp earth, rotting straw and something foul. In the box was a Temminck’s pangolin. Doc reached for her hat.

‘It’s a trap!’ The thin man darted around to the driver’s side of the X5, jumped in and slammed the door. He started the engine.

Doc ripped the cap from her head.

Jurie burst from his car, his Z88 pistol drawn. ‘Police! On the ground!’

Doc pulled her Glock from its holster and pointed it at Steven and the man in the overalls. ‘Like he said, face down, on the ground.’

The farmer who had arrived in the bakkie got down on his knees and Doc gave him a push in the back. ‘All the way down, on your face!’

The thin man stuck his right hand out the window of the X5 as he revved the accelerator hard and reversed. He fired twice. Doc ducked as she heard one of the bullets fly over her head. Steven made the most of her distraction and shoved her hard in the chest. He reached behind his back as he fled.

Jurie was in a firing position, feet apart, his pistol in a two-handed grip. He fired two shots into the windscreen of the retreating X5. ‘Fok.’ He had to lower his weapon as Jason arrived, parking between Jurie and the BMW. ‘Get out of the way!’

Doc was on the other side of the HiLux to Jurie, alone and exposed. Steven was running after the BMW and he had also drawn a pistol. Her heart was pounding. Doc took aim at him. ‘Steven, stop!’

The BMW kept reversing and Steven slowed to a halt. Panting, he turned to face Doc. He was alone – his accomplice had deserted him and he was about to be cornered. She prayed he would just lower his gun. But he raised it.

Doc sighted down the barrel of her Glock and, just as she had done hundreds of times before on the shooting range, she squeezed the trigger.

Her first shot missed, but Steven ducked. Doc smelled cordite and heard more gunfire around her. She focused on Steven and saw him straighten up again. His gun hand bucked. She heard another round zing past her. She took aim and fired again. This time Steven fell backwards.

Doc stared at the fallen man. Her mouth hung open as the realisation hit her. She had just shot someone, for the first time in her life.

Time ceased to mean anything. People were yelling. Jason was driving after the BMW, but had to brake as a big Checkers delivery truck trundled between them. Doc could see the van with Sara the filmmaker at the wheel racing across the car park towards the exit. The BMW driver executed a high-speed reverse turn, which left black rubber on the tarmac, then accelerated towards the mall exit as well.

Doc heard gears grinding and smelled rubber burning. The bulk of Sara’s van emerged from behind the delivery truck and she slammed into the side of the BMW. Undercover officers sprinted to the crash scene.

‘Doc? Are you all right?’

Doc turned at the sound of Pam’s voice. ‘I . . . I think so.’

Pam’s husband Frank had run towards the fallen Steven and was now kneeling beside him, talking on his handheld radio.

Jason rounded the Checkers truck and got out of his vehicle, pistol drawn, and closed in on the BMW. Sara was out of her van and had her video camera in her hand, filming, as Jason half helped, half dragged the thin man out of the damaged X5. There was blood on his face. Once he was on the ground, Jason cuffed him.

Jurie finished calling an ambulance as he came to Doc. ‘What a bloody mess.’

‘How’s Steven?’

‘Who?’ Jurie asked.

Doc nodded to where Frank was still kneeling. ‘The guy I shot.’

‘Frank says he’ll live. Looked like your bullet went through his side.’

‘We got the pangolin.’ Doc felt numb, but she was pleased Steven wasn’t dead. She and Jurie had been on more than eighty busts together, and while there had been shots exchanged on some of them, she had never actually hit someone.

‘Good.’ He put his knee in the farmer’s back and cuffed his hands behind him.

With the shooting over, a crowd of shoppers and staff had emerged from the mall and was coalescing and moving their way. Doc heard the wail of an ambulance siren getting closer.

‘We can go, Doc,’ Jurie said.

She shook her head. ‘No, it’s important I stay.’

‘You shot a guy. You need to process that; we need to take a statement from you.’

‘I understand, but I have to do this.’

Doc leaned back into the open rear canopy of the Nissan and reached into the box. The pangolin had adopted its classic protective tactic of curling itself up. It looked like a scaly basketball. As she lifted it out of its prison, however, and into the morning sunlight, it started to unfurl itself.

As she held it in her arms, with Jurie next to her, looking on, the creature – a female by the look of it, though it was hard to tell – lay back, exposing her belly to Doc. The pangolin was smelly and filthy and felt listless, but it was alive. It looked up at her. Doc felt tears well in her eyes.

‘No matter how many times I see that, I still can’t really believe it,’ Jurie said. ‘It’s like they know they’re safe as soon as you pick them up.’

Doc looked from the pangolin to Jurie. He smiled back at her. ‘I shot a man, Jurie.’

‘I know. You’ll be OK. You’re tough, Doc, but we can talk about it. I –’

‘What is that?’ A boy of eight or nine had crept up to them from the crowd and was pointing at the pangolin. His parents, looking around them to make sure there was no more danger, were close behind.

‘It’s a pangolin,’ Doc said. More people were arriving, gathering in a horseshoe around the Nissan. Many had their phones out and were filming as they chatted to each other, recounting the events that had just happened. ‘Come closer, have a look.’ The crowd pressed in. ‘But we must be quiet, or we will scare it.’ Doc put a finger to her lips.

The noise subsided to just a few whispers. Doc placed the pangolin on the ground in front of her and even the whisperers stopped as the animal took a couple of tentative steps, then rose up onto its hind legs and looked around. Jurie brought a quilted blanket from the back of their car and spread it out on the ground. Doc picked the pangolin up and laid it back down on the blanket.

‘You can take pictures,’ she said to the crowd. ‘Just please stay quiet and I will tell you a story.’

The shoppers gathered in closer, still filming and taking photos, but none of them spoke. Doc reckoned the crowd must have swelled to two hundred or more.

‘When you hear thunder in the sky,’ Doc scanned her audience, meeting their eyes, ‘that is the sound of the pangolin, in heaven, rubbing its scales together.’ She ran her hands over the pangolin’s scales. ‘And when the rain comes, that is also a gift from the pangolin, bringing the life blood, the precious water to our land. This is a pangolin, a creature so sacred, so precious, so valuable to so many African cultures. Does anyone have a question?’

The little boy who’d been first on the scene with his parents put up his hand. ‘Is it like a crocodile?’

Doc smiled. ‘Yes and no. It might look like a crocodile or an armadillo, but it isn’t either of those. It’s a mammal, but it has scales. The people who would steal these animals from the wild, to sell them for meat, or because they falsely believe that their scales have some magical powers, are stealing your cultural heritage, to sell it to rich people overseas.’

‘That is wrong,’ said a woman.

Jurie pulled the man in the overalls to his feet.

‘That man,’ said a young man in the crowd, pointing to the poacher, ‘is robbing us.’

The front line of the audience surged a few collective paces towards the perpetrator, but Doc held up her hand. ‘No. Let the law take its course. Let the police do their business. Today is a victory for South Africa, for our country Mzansi, for all of us.’

The little boy held a fist high. A woman started dancing. ‘For Mzansi!’

‘For Mzansi!’ the crowd roared.

2

Doc was shaking by the time she got back in her Ranger. Jurie leaned over and, now that the rest of the task team had gone, and the ambulance had taken Steven and his accomplice away under armed guard, he put his arm around her and kissed her on the forehead.

‘You were brave. You did great,’ he said to her.

She took a deep breath. ‘Thank you.’

Her phone dinged and she checked it. The WhatsApp message was from Geoff Hoddy, one of her students, asking how the sting had gone. She sent him a quick reply, saying they had saved a pangolin, and asked him to pass on the news to her other students. They all knew that a sting was happening, though none of them had been given any specific details of where or when.

‘That was close, though,’ Jurie said.

She nodded. ‘It was. But at least we saved another one.’

‘We did.’

She looked at him. He was still built like the rugby forward he used to be at school, though these days his belly was straining at his T-shirt. He was handsome, in a craggy, broken-nosed way, and he had probably saved her life, many times, through his fast thinking and faster reflexes during sting operations. And he loved her. His phone rang.

‘Hi, I’ll be over in a couple of hours,’ he said, without preamble. ‘Yes, I know Piet has a game today, and like I said, I’m going to pick him up and take him. And before you remind me, yes, I know Piet wants to see Sannie. Bye.’

He exhaled loudly.

‘And now I feel bad that I’m keeping you away from your kids,’ Doc said. ‘It was supposed to be your weekend with them, wasn’t it? And I only just remembered Sannie’s coming to town.’

Sannie van Rensburg was the widow of Jurie’s cousin, Christo, who had been killed in the line of duty several years ago. She was also a detective, a captain in the Hawks, based on the KwaZulu-Natal south coast. Doc had met her once before and had liked her; she found herself hoping – wishing – that Sannie would be OK with her and Jurie as a couple.

He nodded. ‘Yes, but the kids and Sannie understand; they know I’ve got important work to do. Suzette, not so much.’ Jurie reached out a hand and put it on hers. ‘And Piet loves you.’

She gave him a little smile.

‘He’ll love you even more once we’re living together fulltime,’ Jurie said.

Doc bit her lower lip. Things were moving fast between them. She and Jurie had become close friends long ago through their work together, but she had forced herself to keep any stronger feelings in check, as he was married. Then, three weeks earlier, Jurie had moved out of home; he’d told Doc things had been rocky for a long while and that he and Suzette had finally separated and agreed to divorce. Jurie was now sharing a house with another police officer, Jaco, who was divorced, but Jurie had made it clear to Doc he wanted them to find a place together, once she was ready.

A week after Jurie had moved out of the family home, the two of them had been keeping watch on the house of a Chinese South African, hoping that there would be some sign of a suspicious vehicle coming or going, a registration plate that might tie the man to some known criminal. They’d given up at nine in the evening and gone back to her house for coffee, and he’d told her then that he loved her.

Jurie looked at her face now and seemed to sense her unease. ‘Don’t worry, Doc. I’ll tell you again, like I’ve told you before: I didn’t leave Suzette because of how I feel about you. It was over for us a long time ago; I think we were just trying to stay together for the kids and that was wrong.’

‘Yes, you said.’

He nodded. ‘It’s the truth, Doc.’

‘I believe you.’ She’d met Suzette a few times, socially, and had never warmed to her. Suzette had made it clear she was sick of the hours Jurie kept. Doc imagined that Suzette would have been used to that, as a police officer’s wife, but she felt there was also an unspoken accusation that Doc’s task group had added to his workload. ‘But she still blames me for the breakup.’

He sighed. ‘It’s a convenient excuse. She’d rather think that I’d been having an affair with you than admit that she could have done more to make our marriage work. She still doesn’t believe me that you and I didn’t get together before I moved out of home.’

Her heart was melting. He was so big, so strong, but she knew he had a sensitive side and this had all been hard on him.

‘I don’t want to ruin your life, or your relationship with your kids,’ Doc said.

‘You aren’t.’ He gave her a little frown. ‘I think you’re going to save it.’

Her phone dinged and she took it out. There was a WhatsApp message from a number with no name and no profile picture. Doc also used a WhatsApp account with no picture, or anything that gave away her gender. Despite her following of nearly 20,000 people on Instagram, where she publicised successful operations, there had only ever been one bust in which a poacher had connected the dots and recognised who she was, but by the time he did, Jurie and the other police had surrounded him and cuffed him.

I am told you are a trader. I am looking to buy, not sell.

Jurie glanced over at her. ‘What is it?’

Doc passed the phone to him. As he read the message his eyes widened. ‘A buyer? Shit, man.’

Doc felt her mood spin. She’d been shocked by having to shoot Steven, conflicted by Jurie’s talk of his marriage and her memory of their lovemaking – which had been sensational – and now she felt a surge of adrenaline supercharge her from within.

‘Five years,’ she said. ‘Five bloody years we’ve been doing this and no matter how many pangolins we’ve seized, how many people we’ve put away, we’ve never been able to tap into the next level, into a real-life, honest-to-goodness buyer.’

‘Send him a reply,’ Jurie said.

She closed her eyes, concentrating. The golden rule was not to appear too keen, too ready to make a deal. She tapped out a message: I already have a buyer. Doc held her breath.

Immediately, the two blue ticks appeared beside her message, telling her it had been read. Her phone dinged. I will pay you 20 per cent more than whatever you are making now.

Doc showed Jurie the message.

‘He’s keen.’

‘Too keen?’ she asked.

‘You think this is a setup?’

‘I’ve had plenty of death threats, as you know,’ Doc said.

Doc heard an engine and looked up from her phone. Sara pulled up next to them. The front offside of her vehicle was dented and the bullbar was buckled from the collision with the BMW, but the van was still driveable.

Sara leaned out of the driver’s window. ‘You want to go for brunch?’

Doc shrugged. ‘I’m tired. Did you get the footage you wanted?’

Sara nodded. ‘And some. I did some interviews with people in the crowd. It was touching stuff, including the little boy at the front. He loved your little teaching moment and the stuff about the pangolin’s scales making thunder. Are you OK?’

‘I am,’ Doc lied. ‘That was crazy what you did, driving at the BMW like that. Crazy, but brave.’

Sara laughed. ‘It was a buzz; I just acted on instinct. The vision I got is amazing – all that action and gun firing. What was with Jason, though? He nearly blew it.’

‘Frank Galloway’s going to have words with him,’ Jurie interjected. ‘He lost comms, apparently – his radio stopped working, so he drove in closer to see if it was a range thing. He noticed the lookout was staring at him and, well, it seems that both of them panicked. Jason’s young, and keen – maybe too keen.’

Doc thought Jurie was letting Jason off lightly. She would not want to be the young detective when Frank debriefed him.

‘And he’s Chinese,’ Sara said.

Her words hung there between the three of them.

‘What’s that got to do with anything? He was born in South Africa, unlike you, Sara,’ Jurie said.

‘Point taken,’ Sara said.

Doc wondered if Jurie was just falling into the mode of one policeman protecting another, but she’d already been asking herself some questions. Why was Jason so keen to join their task group? Why hadn’t he used WhatsApp or just phoned Jurie if his radio wasn’t working? No doubt Jurie or Frank would be testing the radio.

‘Let’s go to the Mugg & Bean,’ Jurie said. ‘I’m starving.’

Doc assumed that Jurie was also in no hurry to go until just before he needed to collect his son, Piet. ‘Fine by me. Sara?’

‘Sure. I could use a coffee.’

‘I’ll message the students,’ Doc said. ‘I told them we might be able to catch up after the sting. They’ll be excited to hear all about it.’

They parked closer to the mall and all got out. Doc sent a message to Geoff. Pam and Frank had taken the pangolin with them, and Pam had volunteered to transport it to a rehabilitation centre.

They walked into the mall, now heaving with Sunday shoppers, and made their way to the café.

‘Are you OK, Doc?’ Sara asked again.

‘Sure. Why?’

‘Well, you did just shoot a man. I’ve seen the effect combat can have on hardened soldiers. Forgive me, but you’re a professor, an academic. How do you feel?’

‘Is this on the record?’

Sara laughed. ‘I’d have my camera with me if it was. No. You look, I don’t know, concerned.’

‘It’s nothing.’ Doc’s phone beeped and she took it out as a waiter was seating them. The Mugg & Bean was busy with brunchers, some in their Sunday best clothes after having been to church. Doc spotted the little boy who had been in the crowd viewing the pangolin. He waved at her and she waved back. She ordered avocado on toast and a filter coffee then checked her phone.

Jurie ordered the South African farm breakfast without even checking the menu and Sara asked for the same as Doc, but with a cappuccino. ‘Is that him again?’ Jurie asked.

‘Him who?’ Sara asked.

‘No one,’ Doc said.

Jurie stared at her.

Sara stood. ‘I’m just going to the bathroom.’ She got up and walked behind where Doc was sitting and then stopped. ‘A buyer!’

Doc held her phone against her breast and looked over her shoulder. ‘Sara, please don’t spy on my phone messages.’

‘I wasn’t spying . . . I just happened to look.’ She returned to her seat.

‘And you clearly don’t need to go to the bathroom.’

‘Jurie,’ Sara said, ‘what should we do?’

Jurie frowned. ‘There’s no “we” here, Sara. This is an operational matter.’

‘Yes, but you guys told me you’ve been waiting for this breakthrough for years. Instead of pretending to be the middlemen, the buyers, you’ve got a chance to get a real-life kingpin.’

‘I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Sara,’ Doc said. ‘There’s no talk of kingpins here, just someone who may or may not be a buyer. We’ve been set up for an ambush once before – it could be someone looking for payback.’

‘That’s a possibility every time we set up a meet,’ Jurie said.

A waiter arrived with their coffees and Doc took a sip. She was conflicted, but she felt something else. She tried to work out what it was. What she had gone through this morning had been traumatic and confronting, but it had left her excited, almost on a high. They’d been in a gunfight and survived, and while shooting Steven had been horrible, he was still alive, and in custody. And, the pangolin had been rescued. While she was thinking about all this, another message came through on her phone.

‘What’s he saying now?’ Jurie asked.

Doc checked the screen and bit her lip. ‘He wants to meet, today.’

Sara punched he air. ‘Yes.’

As Doc was putting it down, her phone dinged again and she let out a groan, then checked it again.

Jurie raised a questioning eyebrow.

Doc shook her head. ‘It’s actually Geoff. He’s in the area with Zola and Sue. They’re on their way.’

Jurie smiled. ‘Funny coincidence that your three graduate students all happen to be close by to where you’ve just rescued a pangolin.’

‘Yes,’ Doc said. ‘They want to come and say howzit and hear how it went.’

‘Fine by me,’ Jurie said.

Doc sent a message telling them they were at the Mugg & Bean while she pondered what to do about the buyer.

Geoff Hoddy weaved in and out of traffic in the N1 in his battered late-nineties HiLux double-cab bakkie.

‘Please don’t kill us, Geoff,’ Sue Oliver said. Zola Nkosi was in the back seat bobbing her head as she read a textbook and listened to music through her Airpods.

‘You need to go back to safe, sound London if you can’t handle the pace here, Sue,’ Geoff said.

Sue shook her head. ‘You need to ease off on the testosterone and concentrate more on using your indicator before you change lanes. London was fun – I’m so pleased I got my British passport – but you can’t believe how expensive the wine is there.’

‘It’s cool that Doc saved a pangolin and wants to see us,’ Geoff said.

Sue laughed. ‘Look at you, changing the subject and excited as a puppy. Have you got an apple in your backpack for the teacher?’

Geoff darted a look at Sue and saw she was grinning. She was always teasing him and he didn’t know whether she genuinely didn’t like him or maybe if it was actually the opposite. He liked hanging out with her. She had jet-black hair, cut short, and the pale skin of her thighs, visible below her ripped denim shorts, was adorned with tattoos. He wasn’t into ink himself, but Sue carried it off.

He glanced in the mirror and Zola caught his eye and gave him a smile as she looked up from her textbook. She was always studying something. Zola was lovely and so smart she’d made him feel like a dunce more than once during their undergrad years at Tshwane University of Technology.

‘Geoff, could you look any more like a game ranger today if you tried?’ Sue said to him, bringing his mind back to her, and the road.

‘I can’t help it. I haven’t had money to spend on clothes since I actually was a ranger.’

‘I think it’s your thing,’ Sue said, and threw her head back as if she’d just had the light bulb moment of all moments.

‘My thing?’

‘Your hook, for picking up girls. Those dark brooding eyes, neat short haircut, tan, short green shorts and khaki shirt, plus the vellies. You actually think us city chicks will come down with Khaki Fever just like all your old white tourist ladies used to at the Sabi Sand.’

He laughed. ‘I wish. It was never like that.’ Well, except for Nadine.

‘What are you thinking about with that little crooked grin of yours, Geoff Hoddy?’

He focused on the road, not wanting to meet her eyes.

Nadine Johnson had been from Los Angeles and she’d been on safari at Khaya Ngala safari lodge, where Geoff had worked for a year after his high school gap year. He’d been a nineteen-year-old trainee ranger and Nadine was single, thirty, and the first real love of his life.

Sue had gone back to her phone.

The break in the teasing gave him a moment to think about Nadine. She was a programmer who worked in Silicon Valley, but she was no nerd. Her clothes were stylish – not the usual safari gear of microfibre shirts and trousers with zip-off lower legs, but rather linen by day and cashmere for the cool of evening. Her blonde hair was done in an edgy razor cut and her blue eyes had fixed and undone him from their first game drive. She’d had five nights at the lodge – more than most budgets would allow – and the place had been post-COVID quiet, leaving them alone on all but two of the ten drives they had done together.

It was Nadine’s first trip to Africa and she cried the first time Geoff showed her an elephant. It was something he loved about being a guide, being there for someone’s first encounter with Africa’s wildlife. What had made Nadine’s response so moving for him was that she came across as extremely confident and self-assured, and yet had been so open in her awe and appreciation of what she’d seen.

‘It overwhelmed me,’ Nadine had told him over dinner that night. ‘The size of the elephant, the rumble in its belly, the musty smell of it. I would love to see the world each day through your eyes, Geoff.’

It had been an oddly intimate moment, made even more so when she reached out her hand and put it on his on the dining table. With just the two of them in the boma, the circular outdoor eating area, and their waiter gone to fetch another drink, he’d felt himself blush.

She had looked into his eyes. ‘I want to feel that sense of wonder again.’

After dinner, as was his job, he had escorted Nadine to her room, using a handheld spotlight to check the bush either side of the walkway to the guest suites for lion, leopard or buffalo.

‘Goodnight, Nadine,’ he’d said to her when they came to her luxury suite.

‘It will be, if you stay with me, Geoff.’

Fraternisation between staff and guests was technically banned, but every ranger knew that it sometimes happened. His night with Nadine had been like nothing else he had ever experienced.

‘Earth to Geoff?’ Sue said.

‘Uh, sorry.’ He glanced at her. ‘Sorry, I was busy watching this crazy truck driver.’

‘Looked more like you were daydreaming.’ Sue shook her head. ‘I said, take the next exit. My phone’s telling me that there’s a traffic jam up ahead.’

‘Oh, OK,’ Geoff said.

Geoff had his head in the clouds, which was very much like him.

Sue didn’t really have a type when it came to who she wanted to spend time with, but there were things she liked about Geoff, and other stuff she didn’t. He was sensitive and passionate about wildlife, which she loved, and he was very handsome, in the traditional lantern-jawed safari guide way, but when they had worked together on assignments a few times he’d defaulted to her to be the leader of their small team, and had trouble taking decisive action. He seemed besotted with Prof Rado, hanging on her every word whenever they were attending one of her lectures or tutorials.

Sue thought Geoff might want to sleep with the Prof. Sue just wanted to be Doc Rado.

What she admired was their professor’s kick-arse attitude towards poaching and her courage in setting up pangolin smugglers to be taken down and arrested. Like Geoff, Sue wanted to help save the species, but Geoff wanted to do so by spending time measuring the temperature inside pangolin burrows, while Sue wanted to research the logistics of the illegal market with a view to collapsing the organised crime networks responsible for smuggling pangolins and other wildlife products out of South Africa.

Sue looked over her shoulder and waved to Zola, who looked up from her book.

‘Yes?’ Zola said.

‘Do you want to go out tonight? Maybe hit a club?’ Sue asked.

‘Um, I’m kind of busy tonight.’

Sue raised her eyebrows theatrically. ‘Papa Bear?’

Zola frowned. ‘Please, Sue. Don’t call him that.’

Geoff looked in the rear-view mirror. ‘Who?’

‘Zola’s got a new boyfriend, or should I say, sugar daddy.’

Zola looked down. ‘It’s my business who I see or don’t see.’

‘Hey, I’m not one to judge,’ Geoff said.

‘And nor should you,’ Sue weighed in. She leaned around her seat. ‘Tell us, girlfriend. Who is he?’

Zola pressed her lips shut and shook her head.

‘Go on,’ Sue pushed. ‘What’s his name, what does he do?’

‘I’m not telling, and I don’t want to get him in trouble.’

‘Why would he be in trouble?’ Geoff asked. ‘Is he, like, married?’

Sue sighed. ‘Geoff, you’re so farm-boy naïve. The man’s a blesser, a sugar daddy; of course he’s married!’

‘No comment,’ Zola said.

‘Don’t embarrass Zola,’ Geoff said.

‘Thanks, Geoff,’ Zola said.

Sue shrugged and went back to her phone. What she did not let on was that she already knew who Zola’s sugar daddy was. She wanted to see if their friend would spill, but the fact that she hadn’t confirmed was that Zola had not just randomly hitched a ride to varsity last week in the Range Rover of a certain professor who fancied himself as the next vice chancellor of the university.

Just how Professor Moses Khumalo had managed to get so apparently wealthy on an academic’s wage was anyone’s guess, but there was no denying that he was handsome and smooth. Sue was aware that several female students had a crush on him, though she’d never heard of any of them acting out their fantasies. He was married to a medical doctor and they had three kids.

Sue liked secrets. The fact that she knew who Zola’s lover was and Geoff didn’t excited her and gave her a sense of power. Sue reached into the console between her and Geoff and grabbed his phone.

‘Hey!’

‘Don’t worry. I’m just checking to see if your map’s saying the same as mine about the traffic. You know, you really should have a password on this thing.’

He shook his head. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide, and it’s a pain in the arse having to type in numbers or draw a squiggle on the screen every time I want to check a message. Knock yourself out, Sue. There’s no sexy SMSes or pics on there.’

‘Of course there aren’t. You’re too much of a good boy.’ Sue opened the camera app, reversed the screen image and held the phone out. ‘Get in the pic, Zola – selfie time.’

Zola gave her best pout, to show she forgave Sue her little indiscretion, and Sue snapped the picture.

3

Doc clenched the quadricep muscle in her right thigh under the table as Geoff, Sue and Zola walked into the Mugg & Bean. Jurie got the message and removed his hand before, Doc hoped, any of her three students had seen that the detective had been touching her.

Sara had been too engrossed in her smashed avocado and poached egg to pick up on anything between Jurie and Doc, and to his credit, the detective was being as discreet as he could be under the table. All the same, Doc had found his touch both tender and exciting.

Doc had told Jurie that she wanted to wait a little longer before they told everyone about the change in their relationship status. She loved Jurie, but she was scared that he might change his mind and go back to Suzette. Doc knew it was her insecurity at play, but she couldn’t change the way she felt.

She slid her plate along the table and Jurie and she moved along the bench seat of the booth so Geoff could sit next to Jurie. Sue and Zola sat opposite them, next to Sara and, as students did, took out their phones and started checking them.

Geoff peered around Jurie to address Doc. ‘I hope we weren’t interrupting anything.’

She felt her cheeks burn. ‘No, just breakfast.’

‘In fact,’ Sara paused to swallow a mouthful of food, ‘we were just planning a new undercover operation, and we’re not talking about a seller.’

Zola clapped her hands. ‘Really? Can we come?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Doc said. ‘And we are not planning anything. I just got an SMS, that’s all.’

‘From a buyer?’ Geoff asked.

Doc pursed her lips. Geoff could sometimes seem like a bit of a dreamer, but under his good-looking genial safari guide exterior was a sharp analytical mind. ‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe?’ Sue said. The students ordered coffees from the table’s waiter.

‘We’ve been set up before,’ Doc said. ‘So I’m not rushing into anything.’

Sara nodded. ‘But Doc just got a message from this guy saying he’s flying to China tonight and wants a fresh pangolin. He won’t be back for two months. The guy said he has a shipment and wants to add to it.’

‘So, we wait for two months.’ Jurie pushed his cleared plate to the middle of the table. ‘If he’s real, he’ll contact us again.’

‘What if the guy has some scales or pangolin meat with him?’ Geoff said. ‘You could catch him red-handed.’

Doc bit her lip. Again, Geoff had zeroed in on her main concern. To bring down a buyer and to disrupt a shipment of illegal wildlife products out of South Africa – who knew what else the guy had on him – would be a major coup for the task group.

‘Doc, no,’ Jurie said. ‘I can see that mind of yours turning.’

‘I know, but . . .’ Doc began.

‘It would be so cool,’ Sue said.

‘It would make the documentary,’ Sara said.

Doc’s phone dinged again.

I don’t know who your contact is, but I will pay you double – even more if you have a live one. I have a pet’s cage booked on a flight tonight and was going to move one in that but it just died. I have a customer who will pay very well for a living, breathing thing.

She felt as repulsed as she was excited.

Jurie held up a hand and looked at the rest of them around the table. ‘Phones down, everyone, and listen to me. This is for all of you. In case you don’t know, we have to go through several legal hoops to do this sort of work. First, Doc or I have to contact the National Public Prosecutor and make an application to run an undercover sting and for Doc, as a civilian, to act as an agent. We have to write a full motivation for the operation and supply screenshots or videos from whatever contact Doc has already had with the criminals via WhatsApp.’

‘How long does all that take?’ Zola asked.

‘It can take a few days, although sometimes they can give approval verbally, but that is very unusual. Normally everything has to be in writing. If we get the go-ahead we’re granted a Section 252A authority to run an intelligence operation. If we don’t have that, and act outside the law like some cowboy conservationists do, then a case against a poacher or a buyer can be thrown out of court. The suspect just has to claim that their constitutional rights were infringed because they were entrapped by an unauthorised operation.’

‘How long is that section 252A thing valid for?’ Geoff asked.

Smart boy. Doc looked up from her phone. ‘Seven to ten days.’

Geoff locked eyes with her. ‘How long is the authority for today’s operation valid for?’

‘Seven days, but . . .’

‘But there’s no connection between today’s bust and the messages Doc’s been getting since then,’ Jurie said. ‘Right, Doc?’

She nodded. ‘Right.’

‘We’d need to submit a whole new application,’ Jurie said.

The three students, seeing their opportunity for excitement disappearing, all went back to their phones. Eyes downcast, waiting for their coffees.

Sara, however, set her cutlery down on the table with a thud. ‘But this buyer is leaving tonight. Can’t you get verbal approval today?’

‘It’s Sunday,’ Jurie said. ‘And besides, Jason and Frank are busy booking the guys from today and Frank and Pam have their daughter Tamsin’s birthday party this afternoon.’ He looked at his watch. ‘And I have to go take my son to a game soon.’

Doc looked at Sara and nodded. ‘All true, I’m afraid.’ Her phone dinged again. It was becoming annoying. She looked at the screen.

Whether you know it or not, you have cost me money. Doc watched, with renewed interest, as the words appeared on her phone screen. Two men came to sell you some merchandise today. They also contacted me and conducted a bidding war, when they found out about you, somehow. You offered them more than I was going to. R180,000 if I am correct?

‘Oh my goodness,’ Doc said.

‘What is it?’ It was Jurie who asked the question, but they were all looking at her now.

She held up a hand, then typed a reply. Correct.

I do not hold this against you, and nor am I upset. Business is business. I assume you are a middleman who sells to an exporter. I would like you to do me the courtesy of allowing me to make a counteroffer for the live animal that you received today. I presume it is still alive?

Yes, Doc tapped. ‘Bloody hell.’

‘What is it?’ Jurie asked again.

‘This guy – he knows about Steven and the other guys we dealt with today. They shopped around for more money and cut this buyer out of the picture. He wants to deal with me – us – and offer a better price.’

‘Shit,’ Jurie said.

Sue looked up from her phone. ‘Why is that a bad thing?’

Zola jumped in. ‘Because it means once this buyer finds out that Steven and his Zimbabwean shamwaris have been arrested then he’ll know Doc is not a criminal but an undercover agent, and that will be the end of any chance the task team has of catching this guy.’

‘Of course,’ Sue said.

Doc and Jurie looked at each other.

‘We’ve got no backup,’ Jurie said.

‘Yes, but Sue’s right. We’ll never hear from this guy – an actual buyer – again, once he knows what happened this morning.’

‘I can be backup,’ Sara said. ‘I was in the army, in Afghanistan, remember, and I’ve got a nine-mil pistol.’

‘Me, as well.’ Geoff discreetly lifted his shirt to reveal a holstered Glock.

‘Well, don’t look at me,’ Sue said.

‘Me either,’ Zola said, ‘but Sue and I can be posted somewhere as lookouts. No one’s going to suspect a couple of hot chicks like us of being undercover police agents.’

Sue laughed, and was then serious. ‘We can keep in touch using our phones and earbuds, yes?’

Jurie shook his head. ‘I don’t have any bloody earbuds, and you’re all civilians. You can’t be involved with a police operation without proper authorisation.’

Another message came through on Doc’s phone. I am on my way to ORT. Alone. I have to go to the cargo terminal, and can meet you at a place of your choosing first. I have four hours to spare.

Doc thought a moment, then composed her message. I want half a million.

LOL, the buyer tapped. Three hundred K.

‘Doc, what are you doing?’ Jurie asked.

‘Playing with him. Just testing the water. He’s putting the pressure on, saying he only has two hours and wants to meet us somewhere near OR Tambo.’

‘No.’

‘Hang on.’ Her fingers moved quickly over the phone screen. Four K.

Three-five.

Doc took a deep breath. OK, Emperor’s Palace. Car park near D’Oreale Grande. Two hours’ time. She showed the screen to Jurie.

He shook his head, slowly. ‘As a police officer, I can’t do this. The link to the current operation is tenuous at best, Doc.’

‘Then do it as my . . . friend. Or not at all. I’ll just go and meet the guy. I’ll take you to your place to pick up your car on the way.’

He threw his hands up in the air. ‘Fok.’ An elderly African couple at the next table looked their way. He lowered his voice. ‘All right. But you know as well as I do the risks of doing this. Even if we catch him he might get away without a conviction.’

‘I know, Jurie. But if we do nothing we’ll never see him again. It’s worth the risk.’

He looked into her eyes, holding the stare. ‘You want him to do something stupid, don’t you.’

She shrugged and made a show of waving to their waiter and pantomiming signing a bill.