Of course a lot of other things happened that day. An Ovambo child trod on a SWAPO landmine and got blown to bits. Up on the Angolan border the first South African troops came trundling back across the river, hot and dirty and battle-weary. An Ovambo woman committed suicide because the witch doctor said she rode on hyenas in the night. A gang of SWAPO terrorists shot up a headman’s kraal because he refused to let them take his son for training. Tobias fell off his bicycle because of strong drink. A pride of lions chased a tourist’s car in Etosha. An Ostwind raged across Namibia and blew the Finger of God down and the AWB claimed it was because of 435. Lizzie was raped and so were Rebecca, Rachel, Maria and many others. Sixpence slew his grandmother to get her liver for medicine. A Himba man trod on another SWAPO landmine when taking his cattle to drink. James McQuade got drunk. So did Hugo Tucker, L. C. Brooks and Ivor Nathan. James McQuade radio-telephoned Roger Wentland and made an appointment for eight o’clock the following morning. Beryl the Bitch said Fuck you and punched the Kid and knocked one of his new teeth out. Rosie Tucker said Fuckemall and bought herself a new deep-freeze on the never-never, a new pair of shoes for Tammy and a new bicycle for Gracie. Inspector Dupreez sang like a canary to Matt Mathews. SWAPO began filling the vacuum left behind in the bush by the South African troops. The Kid went back to his dentist. James McQuade got drunker. So did Hugo Tucker, L. C. Brooks and Ivor Leave-it-to-me Nathan. Julie Wonderful reappeared and threatened to shoot McQuade, but fortunately didn’t have a gun. Julie Wonderful burst into tears, and so did Ivor Nathan and Hugo Tucker. In Pietersburg Frikkie van der Merwe said To hell with it and spent the day in bed. In Pretoria a young white man dressed himself in police fatigues and ran through the city centre calmly shooting seventeen blacks at point-blank range before he was overpowered. On the bridge of the Bonanza they got the shocking story on the evening news broadcast, and McQuade radio-telephoned Johan Lombard.
‘Absolutely frightful, dear fellow,’ Johan shouted, ‘he just fired, ran, reloaded, fired again, bang bang bang and reloaded again, absolute bloodbath! He was eventually overpowered by a black man who distracted his attention by saying “Excuse me, Baas, but that Baas over there wants to speak to you, Baas”! And it worked! Because he called the swine “Baas”! Christ, this is Africa for you!’
‘Was he AWB?’
‘Don’t know yet but what d’you think, dear fellow? And what did the leader of the AWB say? He said – whilst piously condemning violence of course – he said it was all the fault of the government for making reforms and making whites feel insecure …’
McQuade furiously sent for Matt Mathews, thrust his tape-recorder at him and rasped, ‘I want a full statement from Inspector Dupreez on everything he knows about the AWB! Or else both of you are going to get the Mossad Treatment!’
That unreal night the Ostwind dropped and a fog came in, rolling over the Atlantic like a wall, swallowing everything. It was dawn when the Bonanza closed with Walvis Bay. You could not make out the lights until almost inside the harbour. The mist hung dense, motionless, as they chugged up towards the fishing wharves, the trawlers ghostly shapes in the suffused glow of the street lamps in Oceana Road. There was a space at Cato’s jetty. McQuade manoeuvred the Bonanza up to it. Tucker and Potgieter got up onto the wharf with the mooring lines and made her fast.
The first thing McQuade did was get rid of Matt and his boys. He unlocked their cabin and said, ‘Okay, piss off.’
They came filing out sullenly. Matt glared at him, about to speak, and McQuade shouted, ‘Back to Jerusalem, Matt! And one word of complaint out of you and I’ll have the whole Israeli embassy thrown out for undiplomatic conduct, persona non grata and all that jazz! And the press will make Mossad a laughing-stock!’
Matt glowered. ‘Fucking amateurs …!’ He turned and clambered up onto the jetty.
The last to come out was Inspector Dupreez. His eyes were red, two days’ growth of beard on his cheeks; he came shuffling out, uncertainly blinking. He appealed to McQuade: ‘What are you going to do?’
McQuade wanted to grab him by the shirt-front. ‘What am I going to do to your wife and three children and your twenty years of faithful service and your pension rights?’
Inspector Dupreez blinked his red-rimmed eyes. ‘Yes?’
McQuade pulled his tape-recorder out of his pocket and held it up to him. ‘Inspector Dupreez, do I understand correctly that you are a secret member of the AWB, even though it’s illegal for a policeman to be a member?’
Inspector Dupreez blinked. Then he croaked, ‘Yes.’
‘And do I also understand correctly that you only joined the AWB as an undercover agent in order to penetrate the organization so that you could report fully to your superiors on their nefarious activities?’
Inspector Dupreez blinked rapidly. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Except I’m not sure about the word nefarious whatchacallit, hey.’
‘Nefarious means wicked, Inspector Dupreez. Immoral. Criminal. Treasonous. And in your capacity as an underground agent penetrating the AWB, you have a host of information about other policemen who are also members, and you also know many of the people who are members of the South African Nazi Party? Who are sheltering behind the AWB as their public front? And you’ve given all this information to Mr Mathews of Mossad?’
Inspector Dupreez swallowed. ‘Yes.’
‘And of course you are now going to your superior officers to report your successful penetration of the AWB, and name all those policemen who are working for them, and break the whole ring.’ McQuade glared at him. ‘Aren’t you, Inspector Dupreez?’
Dupreez looked at him. ‘Yes,’ he whispered.
McQuade patted him heavily on the shoulder and clicked the tape recorder off. ‘Good, Inspector Dupreez … Because if you don’t I’ve got the tapes made by Mossad, which I’ll give to the Minister of Police and you’ll lose your pension.’ He glared at the man, then jerked his head. ‘Now, piss off.’
The rest was dazed. McQuade had been up all night drinking and he was completely sober. The world seemed unreal. The fog was so thick you could not see twenty yards. Julie Wonderful left, balefully repeating one last threat to sue him. Elsie and Tucker left together to drive to Swakopmund. The loot had been stored in the engine room, locked behind the steel door. Potgieter and Nathan gloomily volunteered to stay aboard to guard it until McQuade found out from Roger Wentland what to do with it. McQuade went up to his cabin to pack. He looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t shaved for three days, since the morning he had snatched Muller. God, was that all it was, only three days ago? It seemed as if he had not slept for a month. So, it was all over. No riches. No Heinrich Muller. And no Sarah bloody Buchholz, either. And he thought his angry heart would break.
He walked across the sandy compound to the Landrover. He twisted the ignition. Nothing happened. The battery was flat because Tucker had left the cab-light on. He cursed, got out and started walking. He reached the gate. A car was parked in the fog outside. He started walking up the sand track towards Oceana Road. He heard the car start. It swung around and followed him. It cruised up alongside him.
‘Hullo,’ Sarah said.
For an instant the world seemed to stand still. Then he was walking again. ‘You’re out of luck, lieutenant. You’re not going to be rich!’
She cruised beside him. ‘Why are you walking?’
‘Because my battery’s flat!’ He added, ‘Even flatter than my bank account.’
‘Can I offer you a lift?’
He didn’t answer. She drove beside him. ‘I know about the treasure. Matt’s just told me. I’m terribly sorry.’
‘I bet you are. Now piss off to sunny Jerusalem.’
‘I mean, for you. You deserved it.’
He snorted.
She said, ‘I only did my duty, Jim.’
‘You sure did! Beyond the call of duty. I hope they give you another pip for it. Now go back to Jerusalem and collect.’
‘I don’t want another pip. And I’m not going back to Jerusalem.’
‘Go to Hell, then!’
She said, ‘I will, and back. For you. I’m staying here in sunny Walvis Bay.’
McQuade almost stopped. Then kept walking. ‘Oh no you’re not!’
‘Oh yes I am! I’ve already resigned. I’m going to see this thing through. Because I love you, Jim.’
‘I’ve heard that before.’ He snorted.
‘And I meant it, then! As I mean it now! Why do you think I got myself into such a mess?’
‘You seemed to do pretty well!’
‘Goddammit!’ She slammed on her brakes and flung open the door. McQuade kept walking. She scrambled out and ran after him. She grabbed him by the shirt front and he stopped.
She glared up at him. ‘Goddammit, how do you think I felt being madly in love with you and knowing I was deceiving you?! Knowing I was going to lose you when you found out! Knowing that all your hard work was probably for nothing! Knowing that any day Matt might change his plan and jump on you and hurt you! Knowing that any day I might lead you into an ambush!’
‘You led me into an ambush in Sun City!’ He started walking again.
‘No! I didn’t know they were going to roll you. I didn’t know their plan, and I was so shocked that you were being hurt that I lost my cool and blew my cover!’
‘You then deceived me further! You told me you had quit Mossad and were going to help me find Muller! But you were still working for them! And you tried to lead me into another ambush after I’d snatched Muller!’
She grabbed him and made him stop. ‘Yes! Because that was my god-awful duty! Because I wanted Muller on trial in Jerusalem! But I told Matt that if they hurt you I’d scream blue murder, and I was going to do my best to get the information out of Muller for you!’
‘But all that help – all that training was just bullshit, to deceive me!’
She cried, ‘No! I wanted to get you fit for the job you were hell-bent on doing! Because I loved you. I wanted you to be able to defend yourself! Didn’t I teach you to defend yourself? Didn’t I?’
He turned and walked on down Oceana Road in the fog. She hurried after him. ‘Jim, I’m not deceiving you now, am I? What can I possibly deceive you about? Not your money because you haven’t got any.’
He kept on walking. She put her arm around him. He tried to shrug it off him but she clung and said, ‘Jim, I’m staying. Because I love you.’
He kept on walking. She walked beside him, holding tight. ‘Please put your arm around me. Feel me. Feel how much I love you …’
And, oh, he longed to and he felt his eyes burn, but he didn’t put his arm around her. She strode beside him a moment longer, then took a resolute breath and soldiered on. ‘What’re you going to do from here?’
McQuade strode along. ‘Going fishing.’
‘Not Australia? The passenger line down the Great Barrier Reef?’
‘With what money?’ He snorted and strode on. ‘No, I’m going to see this through.’
‘See what through?’
He wanted to shout it. ‘This Nazi business! See they’re blown out! God knows I’ve got no love for this government but at least they’re slowly re-joining the Human Race, and they’re the only bastards who can drag this Afrikaner country into the twentieth century!’ He snorted furiously again. ‘God! Who would ever have thought it?’
She strode beside him through the fog. ‘Good.’ She squeezed him again and soldiered on, ‘I’ve a confession to make.’
Nothing would surprise him. ‘Nothing would surprise me,’ he said bitterly.
‘Jim, not only am I staying, I’ve already moved into your house.’
He stopped.
‘How the hell did you get in?’
‘I picked the lock.’
He glared at her. ‘Of all the dirty Mossad cheek!’
‘Ex-Mossad. Please, please, ex-Mossad!’ Then she grabbed his shirtfront in both hands and then plunged her mouth fiercely onto his. She buried her tongue once into his mouth and then whispered, ‘You’re right. I’m staying! And you know I am! Because you know I love you! And you know you love me!’ She shook him once. ‘Admit it!’
He looked down at her and he could still taste her sweet mouth, and suddenly his eyes were burning with tears.
‘What am I right about?’
She shook him. ‘About remaining in this crazy mixed-up country! You love it. And I love you and you love me!’ She shook him again. ‘Admit it!’
He looked at her, and, oh, he wanted to weep and then laugh. He fought it back.
Her eyes lit up with joy and her wide smile spread over her face and she shook him once more and shouted ‘Yippee!’ She plunged her hot mouth onto his again fiercely, then turned and began to run back through the fog to her car. ‘Then why aren’t we hurrying home?!’
She ran off into the fog, and she gave a little jump and thrust her fist up into the air like a runner winning a race. She raced up to her rented car and scrambled in, then she leant out the window. He could not see her through the fog. She put both hands to her lovely mouth and bellowed:
‘I love you, James van Niekerk McQuade!’
It seemed to echo over fog-bound Walvis Bay. He had visions of people being woken at the lagoon-end of town, the flamingoes rising up in alarm. The tears were burning in his eyes, and oh God he was happy.