The Colour of Gold (28 page)

"Yes, I know
the man Isaiah Zuma." Bogdan whimpered, his voice cracking, the
vile bitterness of his vomit burning his throat.

"What's your
relationship with him" the captain asked.

"I supplied him
with certain equipment." Bogdan whispered as the reality of what he
was saying sank into his fuzzy mind.

"Certain
equipment? What sort of equipment?" Botha asked.

"Equipment to
make homemade bombs." Bogdan replied, resigning himself to the fact
that what he was saying would condemn him to death.

"How many bombs
could this Zuma make with the equipment that you supplied to him?"
Botha asked.

"Eight." Bogdan
replied. "But it depends on the size of the bomb that's required.
It could be one big bomb or eight small bombs."

"What did this
equipment consist of?" Botha asked.

"Eight threaded
pieces of water pipe, end caps, insulated electrical wire and eight
detonators." Bogdan said.

"When did you
supply the equipment to Zuma?" Botha asked.

Bogdan tried to
remember when his meeting with Zuma had happened and when he had
left the items in the rubbish bin at the back of his house on the
mine but his perception of time had been skewed by his stay in the
cell and all the other abuse that he'd suffered. He stared at the
police captain trying to make some kind of order out of his jumbled
thoughts and memories and just as he was about to speak the
policeman next to him hit him across the side of his head with the
rubber baton. He sank to the floor, his hands slipping in the
congealing vomit as he tried to break his fall.

"Get up!" the
policeman shouted. "Get up and answer the Captain!"

Dazed and
disorientated Bogdan got to his knees. He felt a rough hand grab
his arm and jerk him upright.

"About a week
ago. I don't know. How long have I been here?" Bogdan asked. "I've
lost all idea of time."

"You've been
here for almost a week." Captain Botha said.

"Then it must
have been a week before I came here." Bogdan said.

"Why did you
agree to supply our enemy with this equipment to the enemy?" Botha
asked. "Are you a member of Umkhonto weSizwe?"

"No!' Bogdan
replied vehemently. "The bastards blackmailed me!"

"Blackmailed
you?" Botha asked. "What did you do that enabled them to blackmail
you?"

"The bastards
photographed me having sex with a black woman." Bogdan replied.
"They threatened to send the pictures to the police if I didn't
co-operate with them."

"As far as we
know, you've already been charged under the Immorality Act." Both
said.

"This happened
before I was arrested." Bogdan said. "I was only arrested after I'd
supplied them with the equipment. At the time I didn't think that
anyone knew about what I was doing."

"Perhaps they
tipped off the Vice Squad?" Botha suggested.

"No, I don't
think so." Bogdan said. "The neighbours reported that the
apartment's front door had been left open and when the police
investigated they found the photographs that had been used to
blackmail you."

"Well, we're
not interested in your sordid love life." Botha said. "We're only
interested in the fact that you've been conspiring with the
county's enemies. So you're still on good terms with them? If they
don't find out about your visit here you'll still be able to do
business with them?"

"Yes, I suppose
so." Bogdan replied.

"Have you see
Zuma since your first meeting?" Botha asked.

"No."

"Now, what
about the explosives that they would need to make the bombs?" Botha
asked. "What can you tell us about that?"

"Nothing."
Bogdan replied. "I'm not involved in the acquisition or
distribution of explosives."

"You're lying!"
Botha said. "We believe that you not only supplied the enemy with
bomb parts but that you also supplied them with explosives. After
all, you work at a mine where explosives are used every day and we
all know that the theft of explosives there is rife. Don't tell me
that a man with your "skills" can't get hold of explosives."

"I've never
dealt in explosives!" Bogdan said.

"Stop lying!"
the policeman next to Bogdan shouted as he raised the rubber baton
in his hand. "Of course you supplied them with explosives! You
supplied them with every thing that they needed! Why would they get
the bomb parts from you and the explosives from someone else? If
you think that you can escape the death penalty by denying that you
supplied the explosives you're being very stupid. You're going to
get the death penalty regardless of whether or not you supplied the
enemy with explosives so you might as well admit it. You're going
to hang, man. You're as good as dead, right now."

The policemen
stared at Bogdan, waiting for his response.

"I did not
supply Zuma with explosives." Bogdan said. "They got them from
someone else. They could have got their explosives from any of the
mines in the country, never mind from Deep Reef Gold Mine. The
theft of explosives is rife throughout the country."

"Okay, Mister
Vodnik." Captain Botha said. "Let's get something quite clear.
You've just admitted to the crime of high treason which carries the
death penalty. Do you accept that?"

"Yes." Bogdan
whispered.

"Good!" the
Captain said. "As long as you understand your predicament. But
there's always the possibility that if you co-operate with us the
death penalty might be avoided. Would you be prepared to work with
us against the country's enemies?"

"What would I
have to do?" Bogdan asked.

"Please
understand that I'm not making any kind of deal with you or
promising you anything." Botha said. "I don't have the authority to
do something like that, but at your trial, and believe me there
will be a trial, the judge is very likely to be influenced by the
fact that you helped us to destroy our enemies. Do you understand
what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I
understand." Bogdan whispered.

"Excellent!"
Captain Botha said. "I think that you can now go back to your cell
and have a rest. We'll have another chat a little later."

***

"Good work,
Captain Botha." Brigadier van Tonder said. "Now we're beginning to
make real progress."

The two men sat
in the Brigadier's office. It was the afternoon of the day that
Tiaan had interrogated Bogdan Vodnik. With his forefinger the
Brigadier tapped the report that Tiaan had giver him as it lay on
the desktop.

"So they've got
enough material to make eight bombs." he said. "Do you think that
one of them was used in the bombing of the Germiston Magistrates
Courts?"

"I'm sure of
it." Tiaan replied. "And, from the size of the explosion, I would
say that they used only one of the pipes. If they continue to use
one pipe at a time they won't cause much physical damage but they
will cause a great deal of psychological damage and adverse
publicity for us. That's what worries me."

"Exactly." the
Brigadier said. "So, what we need to decide is whether we should
pick that bastard Zuma up now or wait until we can catch the people
at the top who are orchestrating the whole operation. If we arrest
Zuma now, all we'll achieve is taking out a small cog in the wheel
but if we wait, he might lead us to the people at the top. Keep
working on this Vodnik fellow though. He's an important link in the
chain. Perhaps we can even get him to work for us."

"I suggested
that to him, sir." Tiaan said. "He didn't turn it down nor did he
agree. I'll work on him again. I just don't know how much we can
trust him."

***

"Okay, Mister
Vodnik." Captain Tiaan Botha said as Bogdan shuffled unsteadily
across the interrogation room and stopped in front of his desk. "I
trust that you had a good night's rest and that you've given some
thought to my proposal that I put to you here yesterday."

"Yes, despite
having to sleep on the cold concrete floor with the lights on all
night, I slept quite well." Bogdan replied.

The Captain
shrugged his shoulders and smiled up at Bogdan.

"This isn't the
Carlton Hotel, Mister Vodnik." he said. "In case you didn't know,
we're fighting a war here, so your personal discomfort is of little
importance to me. What have you decided regarding my suggestion
that you work with us against our enemies?"

Bogdan rubbed
the thick stubble in his cheeks and chin and looked down at the
floor in front of him.

"I've really
got no option but to work with you." he said. "And even though this
is not my country and I believe that the war you claim to be
fighting isn't in defence of your country but, in fact, the defence
of your hated ideology, I accept that my actions are an act of
treason and that I must try to lessen the consequences."

"Very
eloquently put, Mister Vodnik." the Captain said. "But let me put
you in the picture. The enemy that we're fighting supports the
communist doctrine being spread by the communist countries of
Russia, China and Cuba. These countries are determined to take over
South Africa and from here they will spread their evil ideology to
the rest of Africa. The people of my country will become the slaves
of the communists, both the black ones and the white ones. This
war's got nothing to do with our ideology. It's about our survival.
Without the white people this country would collapse and easily be
taken over by the communists. The blacks cannot survive without us
whites. However, I didn't bring you here to discuss politics with
you. As you've agreed to work with us against our enemies I'll now
arrange for you to be returned to your apartment in Hillbrow. It's
very important though, that you keep our arrangement to yourself.
We're playing a deadly game and now you're part of it. You will
report to me at least once a week and I'll give you details about
how to do that later. You may go."

Bogdan trudged
out of the room, closely followed by two uniformed policemen. They
directed him to the underground car park and put him in the back
seat of an unmarked white Ford sedan. The drove out of John Vorster
Square and into the busy downtown traffic. They entered the suburb
of Hillbrow and stopped outside the Grande Mansions apartment
building. Bogdan climbed stiffly out of the vehicle and the
policeman in the passenger's seat handed him the keys to his
apartment before the car drove away.

As Bogdan
walked unsteadily into the entrance foyer of the building, Mister
Cohen, the building's caretaker stopped him. "You can't come in
here!" he shouted looking at Bogdan's rumpled, dirty clothes, the
week-old stubble on his cheeks and chin and his unkempt hair. "You
bloody tramps can't come into this building! Get out of here before
I call the police!"

"Slow down,
Mister Cohen." Bogdan said holding up his hand. "I'm Bogdan Vodnik
and I'm renting apartment number five."

The caretaker
looked more closely at Bogdan.

"Oh! I am
sorry, Mister Vodnik." he said. "I didn't recognise you there for a
minute. You don't look well. Are you okay?"

"Yes, thank
you." Bogdan said. "I'm fine; just very tired."

Bogdan walked
up the stairs very slowly, his whole body drained of energy. He
reached his apartment, unlocked the door and walked in. he closed
the door and locked it and staggered to the bedroom. He collapsed
onto the bed and fell asleep."

CHAPTER
11

Catherine Nyaga
lay in her bed in her little shack in Soweto. In the silence she
could hear the steady ticking of the large red alarm clock on the
small table near her head. She glanced at the luminous face. It was
ten past three in the morning. Why was it, she wondered, that time
seemed to go by so much slower when you couldn't sleep? She had
gone to bed earlier than usual once she realised that Isaiah wasn't
coming to visit her. She touched her face carefully with he
fingers, feeling her still swollen nose and cheeks where Bogdan had
punched her and kicked her. Her jaw ached constantly from the
cracked jawbone that she couldn't afford to have attended to. Since
the attack she had only been able to eat porridge and milk. Why had
he attacked her? she wondered. The three photographs obviously had
something to do with it but where had they come from and what did
they mean? What had she done to make him so furious? Why had he
attacked her and not explained his actions to her? He had always
been so kind and loving towards her in the past. And now she was
too scared to go to the apartment in Hillbrow or to work at his
house on the mine.

As she lay
staring up into the darkness above her she frowned as she heard the
sound of a car driving slowly along the street outside. Cars very
seldom drove around in Soweto at night. She heard the vehicle slow
and come to a stop in the street opposite the house where her shack
was situated. The engine stopped and she heard heavy footsteps
crunch across the hard gravel in the street. The footsteps came
closer.

Catherine sat
up in her bed and pushed aside the curtain covering the small
window. She looked out towards the neighbour's house but before her
eyes could adjust to the darkness the door of her shack door burst
inwards and several men in camouflage uniforms and carrying
powerful flashlights rushed into the room.

"Are you
Catherine Nyaga?" one of the white policemen shouted. "Show me your
passbook!"

Still stunned
by the abrupt entry of the security police Catherine threw back the
blanket that covered her and turned to face the intruders. As the
harsh beams of the torches played on her she reached over to the
little table next to her bed and picked up her identity document
that all people of colour were forced to carry on their person at
all times. The white officer grabbed the document and studied it in
the light from his torch.