Читать книгу The ANC Spy Bible - Moe Shaik - Страница 10

Luck favoured me. It was the ‘Bathroom Officer’ who took me down to the cells. I waited until we were at the door to cell 26 before I asked why I was being detained.

‘Because they believe you are part of an ANC military unit linked to Ebrahim and the foreigners detained in Johannesburg,’ he said.

‘But I am not.’

‘They think you are.’

I was eager to start up a conversation but his use of the word ‘they’ struck a chord in me. I paused. He was clearly dissociating himself from the rest of the Security Branch officers. I was unsure of his intention, but I desperately needed more information.

‘Who else is detained?’

‘In addition to Shirish, your cousin has also been detained.’

‘My cousin?’ I was unable to control my disappointment.

‘Yes, Myreen, she was in one of your flats.’

‘Did they find anything in the flat?’

‘No.’

‘Is Shirish okay?’

‘He is very upset with you. He says that you used him.’

So far so good, I thought. The legend was holding, this was exactly what Shirish and I had agreed that he should say.

There was one more piece of information, but I waited until he’d opened the metal door before asking, my voice a whisper, ‘Do they have Ebrahim?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘They’re still looking for him.’

I nodded, smiled. He smiled back. For a fleeting moment I wondered if he was setting me up but I put aside my doubts and accepted his authenticity. He felt honest.

‘You’d better refresh,’ he said. ‘They will come back for you soon. Be careful of Lieutenant Botha. He is a hard man.’

I shook his hand and entered my cell.

I was concerned about my cousin Myreen. In 1977 a relative of ours, Dr Hoosen Haffejee, had been killed in detention. He’d been tortured and died of the brutality. His death devastated our families, especially hers. I knew that Myreen’s parents would be frantic with worry. I had to find a way to get her out.

In the courtyard I had a warm-water shower. It felt refreshing although I wished that the water was a little hotter. I changed into the clothes my mother had sent and rinsed my urine-stained trousers. I had to wash away the traces of my shame. On the concrete block I found food in a steel plate beside a mug of cold tea. I gulped down the food. It was only then that I realised how hungry I was.

Afterwards, lying on the bed, I rehearsed my ‘story’. From the interrogation and what the Bathroom Officer had told me, I could tie up loose ends. Soon I fell into a deep sleep.

The clanging of keys startled me. I struggled to wake until the hard slaps on my face made me sit up abruptly. Even then I was disoriented, confused, unable to understand where I was.

‘Get up! Get up! It’s time to talk,’ Lieutenant Botha shouted at me, his face alive with expectation.

I used the long walk to the interrogation room to focus mind and body. I asked to use the bathrooms where I washed my face with hot water and did my mirror-fear check routine. I was ready to enter the game. I knew what I had to do. The third day was dawning. I needed to extend this for a few more hours.

Seated across the table from Lieutenant Botha I made my move.

‘I am a supporter of the ANC,’ I said.

‘Who recruited you?’

‘Ivan.’

‘Who is Ivan?’

‘I know him only as Ivan. He is an Indian guy.’

Lieutenant Botha opened a photo album and pushed it towards me. ‘Point him out?’

I slowly studied the photographs in the album. On seeing Ivan’s picture and without hesitation I said, ‘This is Ivan.’

Lieutenant Botha smiled. His eyes lighting up in anticipation.

‘You mean Ivan Pillay?’

‘I don’t know his surname.’

‘When did you meet him?’

‘Two years ago.’

‘In 1983?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where?’

‘At university.’

‘This cannot be, Ivan was in exile then!’

‘I met him at the university.’ I kept my voice level, insistent.

‘Who else is in your unit?’

‘I operate alone. I prefer to work alone.’

‘Where does Shirish fit in. You know that he is detained. You saw him on your way to the toilet. I wanted you to see him.’

‘He’s a friend who I used for my purposes.’

‘How?’

‘I asked him to show me his business operations on the pretext that I wanted to invest in his business.’

‘Is Shirish part of your unit?’

‘No, I told you. I work alone.’

‘He says that he is part of your unit.’

‘He is bullshitting. He knows nothing about my work for the ANC.’

‘He says that you recruited him.’

‘He is lying. I work alone.’

Lieutenant Botha turned back to the album of photographs. Paged through it. ‘Do you know this person?’ He smiled, his finger pointing at a picture of Ebrahim.

‘Yes, I do. I know him as Ahmed.’

‘When did you first meet him?’

‘In January of this year’

‘Where?’

‘He came to my optometry practice.’

‘He just showed up at your practice?’

‘No, he had an appointment.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I had an appointment with a patient by the name of Ahmed Shaik in the middle of January. He showed up and during the consultation he told me that he was sent by Ivan to meet with me.’

‘Why would you trust him?’

‘Because he had the proper code.’

‘Code? What code?’

‘When I last met Ivan in December 1984, he said that someone will come to meet me in the new year under the name of Ahmed Shaik. I should know that he had sent this person to me. He also said that I should ask the question “How is your mother?” The person would respond by saying that “My mother is well and had just come out of hospital in Swaziland”. This was the code.’

‘Did Ebrahim use this code?’

‘Yes, Ahmed did.’

‘Did you know who Ahmed really was?’

‘No.’

‘What did he ask you to do?’

‘To get him an apartment.’

‘Is that all?’

‘And a car.’

‘Did you get him the car?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Where did you get it from?’

‘I bought one from my dad, who buys and sells second-hand cars.’

‘Under whose name did you register the car?’

‘Under the name of Selim Arieff. I used a false identity number and address.’

‘What else did you do?’

‘Nothing else other than to meet with him once a week in his apartment to see whether he was okay. If he needed anything he would visit me at my practice.’

‘What were you doing with Ebrahim and Shirish in the Amsterdam area?’

‘Ahmed said he wanted me to take him there.’

‘Why?’

‘I was to leave him there.’

‘Why did you take Shirish?’

‘He knew that area well. He has business clients in that area.’

‘Did he know that you were going to drop Ahmed off?’

‘No, he did not.’

‘He must have known!’

‘No, I told him nothing. He did not know. Ahmed was going to ask me to stop at a specific spot. He was going to jump off and I was to drive away. That was the plan.’

‘Surely, Shirish would ask you what was going on?’

‘Yes, I figured that he would. I had a prepared answer.’

‘What were you going to tell him?’

‘Nothing. I was going to say, it was none of his business.’

‘Did you go there to pick up arms?’

‘No.’

‘Who were the people that Ebrahim met in the Holiday Inn in Ermelo?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Did he not say anything?’

‘No, and I did not ask. It was none of my business.’

‘Who is Myreen?’

‘My cousin, my father’s brother’s daughter.’

‘Is she part of your unit?’

‘No, she is not. I have already told you that I operate alone. I rented a flat for her. She needed a place to stay. I got her a place and paid the rent. My arrangement with her was that I get to use one of the rooms. I kept that room locked all the time. She did not know what I did in it. As a matter of fact, she never saw me in the flat at all. She is completely innocent of my activities.’

‘What did you do in that room?’

‘I had a photostat machine in it. I used to photostat my office work.’

‘Why not keep the photostat machine at your office?’

‘The office is too small as you would have seen. It was my intention to use that room for my office administration work.’

‘Where is Ebrahim?’

‘I don’t know. When we came back from Ermelo, I asked Ahmed to leave as soon as possible. I have not seen him since.’

‘Why did you advise him to leave?’

‘Because of the military roadblock and I sensed that the Ermelo Holiday Inn was under surveillance. I also saw surveillance around my flat.’

‘I see. Are you trained in counter-surveillance?’

‘No, I am not, I am just observant.’ I immediately regretted this bragging. I had to stay humble. I could not be overconfident or arrogant.

If Lieutenant Botha caught the tone of my voice, he didn’t show it but paused for a while before he asked, ‘Did you ever meet Klaas or Hélène?’

‘Who are they? I don’t know any Klaas or Hélène.’

Again, he showed me the photographs of Hélène, Ebrahim and Klaas.

‘No,’ I said, ‘the only person I know in these photographs is Ahmed.’

Lieutenant Botha sat back into his chair and studied me. He smiled the MacGyver smile and began the questions all over again, this time trying to find contradictions in my story. We went over and over the same questions. I held my ground and kept my cool. I played the part of a humbled and broken man. Lieutenant Botha liked this, he revelled in his superiority. It made him feel that he had won the game. But he was oblivious of my game to buy time.

Eventually Lieutenant Botha called in some colleagues to guard me and left the room. Through the windows I could see the setting sun. The third day was over. A great relief came over me. I closed my eyes and dozed in the chair.

Lieutenant Botha was not gone long, returning with a tape recorder. He sat down, said nothing but stared at me. Then he smiled. I wondered whether he knew that his smile was a dead give-away in an interrogation. He lit a cigarette.

‘Who was the person you spoke to on the phone just before you were arrested?’

There was that iciness to his voice and a glint in his eyes: he was the gambler about to play a winning hand.

‘I don’t understand?’ His question had startled me.

‘Who did you speak to on the phone before you were arrested?’

‘You mean when the police came knocking on my door?’

‘Yes!’ he shouted. ‘Cut out the games! You know what I am asking.’

‘I called home. My parents’ home, to say that the police were knocking on my door.’

‘How did you know that it was the police?’

‘I saw the Police Reaction Unit through the keyhole.’

‘And then you called your parents’ place before you opened the door?’

‘Yes.’ I was desperately trying to figure out where he was going with these questions.

‘Why did you not call your girlfriend?’

‘Because I wanted my parents to know.’

‘I see. But who did you speak to?’

‘My brother Yunis.’

‘Did he answer the phone?’

‘I can’t recall, but I know that I spoke to him.’

‘Let us listen to the tapes then, shall we? It will help you remember.’ Botha switched on the tape recorder.

‘You have been taping my parents’ phone?’

‘Oh yes, and yours, and your girlfriend’s as well.’ Lieutenant Botha smirked. ‘I am sure you know that by now. There are some interesting things that you should listen to.’

We listened to the tape recording in silence. The lieutenant’s eyes were fixed on me, no glint in them now. ‘Who answered the phone, when you called?’

‘My dad.’

‘But you did not speak to him, right?’

‘That is correct.’

‘But you said you called home because you wanted your parents to know that you were about to get arrested, yes?’

‘Yes, that is correct.’

‘But you did not tell your dad that when he answered the phone. Who did you ask for?’

‘My brother Yunis.’

‘That’s correct! You wanted your brother Yunis to know! Why?’

‘I thought it better that he broke the news to them.’

‘I see, you are close to him, are you not?’

‘I am close to all of my brothers.’

‘I am sure you are but you did not ask for any of your other brothers. You asked specifically for him. Why?’

‘That was just a coincidence.’

‘Just a coincidence? Really? Well, we will see.’

Lieutenant Botha readied himself to leave the room saying, ‘We will chat later. Tomorrow will be an interesting day.’

I knew that Lieutenant Botha was on to something. I just could not figure out what.

I was returned to my cell. I slept through most of the night. Even though I needed the rest, whenever I woke my mind worked overtime. I went through the story again and again, looking for any loopholes. I was confident that my story would hold. Although much depended on Shirish sticking to his legend. So far, he’d done so. Myreen was my main concern, and I hoped that my ‘admission’ would protect her and get her released soon.

In my underground activities I had worked with many comrades. I needed to protect their identities and I knew they depended on me doing this. The only way I could help them was to limit the damage to myself. And I had to do this in a way that would give me a chance in a court of law, assuming I was ever charged.

It was clear to me that this was my strategy, my path to survival. But for it to work Lieutenant Botha had to buy my ‘story’. For that to happen I had to stay focused, steadfast and alert in this evolving game of half-truths, hidden facts and in the perverse power relations that existed between Botha and me. I was playing to his ego and to his perception of himself as a super-sleuth. Lieutenant Botha needed to join the dots, so I did it for him as an ‘admission’ of a ‘broken’ man. I had given Lieutenant Botha the pleasure of ‘breaking’ me and in exchange had got the three days that ensured Ebrahim’s safety. I felt good about this. Little did I know that Lieutenant Botha had other plans.