A Motley Crew Read online

  "Is your company the men I've vetted Olaf? If so did you do the transfer?"

  "Yes, and yes again, I managed thank you Anne"

  "You don't have to write anything down, just be attentive"

  "I'm listening Anne"

  "You received the suitcase Olaf?"

  "I've got that yes"

  "Have you had contact with Zach?"

  "Zach is on board, two of his people are attending to André as we speak"

  "Who found him?"

  "My girl of course. A little place called Heartville"

  "Will we know when it's done?"

  "Zach will let us know"

  "Good, it's taken years. What about the pilot?"

  "They found Iris yes, thank you Anne"

  "The rest?"

  "The rest? No Sam sent me a voice recording from each of the members of the board Anne. André's got to them all. What's left is you, me, Zach and a tree member team - and Iris naturally"

  "Round them up and fly them here for me to end this as soon as possible Olaf, we're going to be short of a board, but with the threat André poses being cancelled and Sam in a safer place, it will be a safer world"

  "Consider it done Anne. Just one more thing"

  "Yes Olaf"

  "What about Emil?"

  "The man hasn't done us wrong? What are you asking me?"

  "Do we..."

  "Never, no. He's the link to the funding. We're going to have to get him on board, literally. He won't decline I'm sure. Plus he gets to keep his title at the IMF and serve on the board. It's a win-win for him if you want to see it this way"

  "Just making sure we're all on the same page Anne"

  "By the way, how's Sam doing Olaf?"

  "She's on top form as always, around the clock and you realise that she's, in all likelihood, listening in?"

  "Sam, it's Anne, are you there?"

  "Good day Anne, I'm everywhere, you know that better than most. How may I be of assistance Anne? Will it be the usual? Wiping this conversation from both your cellular providers' data banks?"

  "Good day my girl, it's Olaf, if you'd be so kind please dear?"

  "And your guests Olaf, will they be joining us?"

  "They will be Sam. You can end this call and we'll take it up in a little while my girl"

  "My apologies guys, I was going to stretch the anticipation for your re-deplyment out all the way to my drop-off point of course, to see how you all reacted to be part of the real world once more. Before the diluted truth gets guillotined to booklet form to fit into the cramped attention span of the public. But there you go, I can't keep a secret"

  "I'm not... I'm sure that I speak for all of us - I'm not really sure how to respond... We have no idea what was discussed there, or who Anne and Sam are?"

  "There we go... three or so seconds back, and no more 'Sir'. You remind me of the FSB back home" The man's yellow teeth bracketed by his grey beard was a stark contrast to his pale face. He must have borrowed copious dye from coffee beans over many weeks of many years to have such perfect mouthful of sunshine yellow - the driver thought and slipped down on gear to overtake yet another mechanical snail, who had been crawling in the far right lane reserved for people with a purpose in life. The Russian's ear-to-ear grin was still not going anywhere, much like the traffic ahead, whose break lights announced that the motorists had better pull a magazine closer to help pass time.

  "It's costing me a small fortune, so let's hope I chose well. It won't be anything out of the ordinary I assure you. It's just that I'm running out of people to trust.

  "How could you have activated..?" The driver had been looking for something to do that would help take his mind off the mans pearly whites that were more like ivories, only more neglected. He realised his mistake halfway through his sentence - as the man shifted on his seat and loudly cleared his throat, getting ready for another shameless display of dinnertime chisels.

  "I thought you'd need confirmation. Obviously. I'd be worried if you didn't. I'm sure any moment now..."

  "Sir?"

  "Your phone"

  "You need to make a call sir?"

  "Oh no, thank you. I've got one"

  "Hello?" All three silently debated the coincidence of the phone ringing in the driver's pocket first, then instantly followed the two in the back, a few seconds apart.

  "Activated? Does there even exist such a thing? Who am I speaking to? What? I mean what... Sorry sir. I... we thought you're retired, living at the coast. In Cape Town? Will look out for you then... Thank you, and a good day to you and Mrs" Each received an abrupt phone call from the previous head of South African Intelligence.

  "The confirmation fax will be at Pelindaba. Welcome again Henry, Steven, and Frank. Any further calls you need to make, and I for one can appreciate that you would - can be made from there. You'll have to sign for your security clearance too. It's a little higher than when you resigned, I can assure you"

  Although it felt like the last hour's drive to Pelindaba, they had to suffer in Olaf's company, would never end, the black Landrover was soon enough covered in waves of fine grey powder as its tyres; arguing with steep uphill, kicked back handfuls of loose brownish grey gravel that left deep trenches in its wake. The castle-like gates ignored the visitors' dusty arrival, untill two soldiers had seemingly radio'd, confirming that it was actually worth their time to step out the generously climate controlled dark green armoured glassed room, and that the visitors were in fact expected. Seemingly forced, and eventually with some luck, wedged carefully in-between two titanic redish-brown boulders, as not break anything transported halfway up the hill, the fortress of a guardhouse was only visible due to the drought that had stripped much of the surrounding vegetation and dyed the remainder a dehydrated brownish -green. And there was the fact that a large brown sign advertising with the aid of only three white letters... 'END', indicated that there was no where else to go, just in case someone felt the need of 'just passing by', after turning from the main road five kilometres back, having endured much shaking on the awkward dirt road.

  The high boulders; that had been incorporated into the obscured facilities endless perimeter of both spiked and electrified security fencing, bore testament, that it had also been the last time that mother nature had put up anything that counted as an obstacle, and that couldn't either have been bulldozed to one side, or worst-case, adorned by draping it in camouflaged netting. A straightened index finger, poking out from an tactical glove, and briefly lifted from the rifle-sling it had been resting on, was drawn horisontally across one of the soldiers' throat, had indicated that the droning of the idling engine had to be put to sleep. Two heavily armed soldiers in full battle-dress, of which neither seemed to have smiled in a very long time, ordered the occupants out and a few meters away, keeping all clear from the vehicle, while the soldiers were dutifully pulling seats back and forward their maximum factory settings, lifting carpets and feeling around the vehicle's wheels, before closing-off their well practised ritual with much tapping and feeling around the petrol tank and exhaust box before finally instructing the driver to drop the bonnet in place again. With the men back inside their transport again, the slowly approaching vehicle's dark tinted windows just barely reflected large yellow warning signs "Access Restricted" through the layered dust. Apparently the soldiers had no use for taking to visitors - which included indulging in chit-chat, greeting or even asking any questions, and without a word, both pointed into the premises to the direction of the peculiarly unattractive concrete building's "Reserved Parking" area.

  Having parked perfectly between the allocated yellow lines, and far enough from the interestingly considerate courtesy of including disabled parking, with a stern warning sign - 'If You Shouldn't Park Here, Don't!', the men were not in the mood to upset anyone's day, and for good measure; noticing a camera mounted on a two-story high pole, following them, walked as far as possible, in an arch around the disabled parking towards the flight of stainless steel balustraded
stairs. Entering the facility, the strangeness from outside had been dragged-in with the men, to carry-on inside the vast granite reception area that had been decorated by someone with absolutely no flare for a welcoming or cosy first impression. At least ten camouflaged clad men and two women were planted at attention, six to the left and six to the right, of a slightly too narrow and oddly out-of-place thick red carpet, that someone probably on steroids, had managed to stretch right from the one-person-at-a-time-only armoured glass turnstiles, for what felt like fifty meters, all the way up to reception, where two unfriendly looking soldiers were threateningly awaiting some sort of calamity. Both had their polished brown boots positioned wide apart and seemed eerily comfortable with their hands relaxing on their holsters. A multitude of close-circuit cameras decorated high on the dark-grey granite walls that were further beautified - in a military kind of way - and surprisingly still, by everything which supported an old-regimed country. All around the theatre-sized hall, were well-lit one meter square photos of South African designed G6 armoured vehicles, amphibious vehicles, tanks, the Rooivalk battleship helicopter, a range of planes - from the once popular orange and silver Harvard planes used amongst other things, for pilot training - Impala fighter jets, camouflaged Hercules freight planes, an assortment of submarines, grey navy ships as well as large camouflaged drones, indicating how advanced the technology at the time had been, and how out-of-reach it had been for the public, who only came to excitedly witness the strange technology in toy-like form and scale many years later.

  One of the two soldiers, retreated two careful steps and paused after drawing his side-arm, pointing it parallel down the side of his body, towards the polished chequered floor. The visitors were ordered by an office-uniformed soldier; as he also removed his Heckler & Koch 9mm pistol and took aim at them, after pushing his purple beret, a mere few millimeters to one side, to empty their pockets into a tray that he slid over the narrow conveyor belt, towards them.

  "Desperate measures for desperate times gentlemen. However, this is standard procedure for what is going on in the world. To be allowed access gentlemen..., I'm sure you'll understand" The frowning Russian; having been processed already and finally X-rayed together with a small group men who arrived earlier - who shook his hand before disappearing into a waiting elevator - was waiting for them on the other side of the counter. Olaf had briefly placed a caller on hold, looked up at the high ceiling, rolled his eyes, then continued his whispered conversation in English, pacing towards the far and quieter corner of the expansive and black and white granite and marble chequered floored reception. He suddenly lost his temper and kicked a deep dent - low at the base of a highly polished aluminium container which housed one of a long row of flower pots leading past, and serving as an inaccessible barrier behind the X-ray machines, and tightly dotted the way to the overly lit and separated bright red and blue lines on the way to the elevators. They noticed how he switched over to his mother tongue, and progressively raised his voice until two camouflaged guards, left where they were parked at attention, walked over and without a word, and pointed their fingers at the rowdy giant. He was clearly ignoring their initial polite attempt by turning his back on them, still raising his voice from an amplified to a full-volumed argument over his mobile phone, and carried on his telephonic argument. With a firm grip around his left elbow and a well-timed swift baton strike to his right calf, an unsuspecting Olaf lost his balance as he was further swung around by one of the soldiers, who crumpled his jacket in-front over his chest in a flash, in a judo-like grip, while the other guard- three meters away, kneeled and had his drawn firearm trained on the perplexed man that had become an uninvited nuisance on the other side of the reception barrier.

  "That's quite enough, you're on South African government soil, put your phone away. Cross with your right hand over to your left jacket pocket, and drop your phone in there! Follow us to the exit! Now!" The men clearly meant business, and proceeded pushing the heavily limping and suddenly mute man back past the X-ray machines, towards the large glass turnstile. After much waiving of the one soldier's arms outside, his colleagues remained out of striking distance, and still aimed his firearm at the apologising out-of-towner.

  "OK, that was interesting..." One of the VIP guards whispered inside the reception area, over to his smiling colleagues, who seemed to have derived a large sadistic measure of enjoyment from the unexpected entertainment Olaf offerer.

  "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Came the reply, just as the two red-faced soldiers summoned the turnstile open - each in turn with a vigorous banging push - leaving the glass turnstiles with almost indefinite rotations, long after both camouflaged men had returned to the X-ray machine.

  "Yep, that we're utterly screwed and be ordered to leave the facility jogging to the car"

  "...Or, that he's not a fool... Something is wrong with this scenario..." His colleague completed his sentence.

  "Why the hell would he do that?" The VIP guard carried on in a muted whisper during his patting down of the remainder of his pockets as the stainless steel tray was fast filling up.

  "All objects please sir. If you don't mind. And our apologies for making you wait" The camouflaged soldier seemed strangely oblivious to the fact that they had all arrived together, and that the rowdy Russian had clearly turned the ruling quiet harmony of their world on its head.

  "Please, by all means, your place, your rules" A VIP guard offered him a smiling consolation as he retrieved a tactical pen from his inside jacket pocket.

  "Thank you for your understanding sir" A now more composed soldier presented them with a polite smile, while still eyeing the man outside the glassed-off reception area - on his phone again, swinging his one arm wildly. In-front of the soldiers, the stainless steel tray was filling up fast, as the VIP guards were stacking the remainder of their belongings on-top of each other's.

  "Well, I haven't seen a collection like this in a while sir. Have you by any chance cleared an entire shelve in a gun shop recently?" The soldier smiled again, taking his eyes off the commotion that was carrying on outside, faced his visitors, and looked at his colleague.

  "High-voltage stun-guns, times three, thumb-cuffs... Haven't seen these since training... times three, one Kershaw-Dividend pocket knife, one Leatherman multi-tool, one Cold Steel throwing knife... really sir? A throwing knife?" The guard had been both impressed and surprised and repeated shooting a frowned look over his shoulder towards his backup - who smiled back in return, with his arms folded, a few meters behind him.

  "Three passports, a nail clipper, one box of Camel 20 filter soft pack, two cigarettes missing, one silver Harley Davidson Zippo Lighter... and a set of Landrover car keys. Oh, and a black tactical pen with glass-breaker tip" He continued and read down the list he had made - while with the aid of his typical yellow plastic BIC ball-point government issue pen, ticking off each item as he double-checked, at the same time, making it evident that the items would be allocated back to their owners, at a later stage only, possibly when exiting. The VIP guards, drawn to cheap looking pen that the soldier had been marking-off their belongings, thought of how the bureaucratic world had at least one thing in common, whether they represented capitalist democracies or the prevailing dictatorships, that the men had travelled to on occasion. Military and Police quartermasters, standardly housed vast selections of sometimes distinct entry-level quality items, which ranged from stationery, across all the shelves, to include sometimes even crucial equipment, that were thrown; by the lowest-priced and battling suppliers, at the State, with almost careless and afterthought-like regard for the function that these state departments were expected to perform, diligence and pride.

  "When you walked in earlier sir, is the bulge on your ankle..? If you don't mind sir. Just to prevent any embarrassment inside the X-ray machine. And before I forget, please initial the bottom of the first page, and be so kind to place your full signature on the marked space of the second. That would be same for all three of you,
if you please? If you don't mind getting the formalities out-of-the-way now. These access cards need to be carried on your person in a visible fashion at all times, and would allow unrestricted access to most of the facility from the ground floor where we are now, right down to the thirteenth sub-level. Levels fourteen through to nineteen, may be accessed if you're accompanied by designated... believe it or not..." The soldier aimed his lifted eyebrows over to Olaf outside, who seemed to have calmed down, still with his mobile glued to his ear.