Good Hope

by Malcolm Kohll

Overview

When the European location for the World G8 Summit on AIDS is compromised, Cape Town is hurriedly chosen to host. But Scimitar, an impenetrable militant Islamic cell based on the tip of Africa, has other plans. Led by Sayeed Dhatri, a Cape Town-born Muslim, and advised by Tariq Dar, the key strategist and quartermaster of the global terror war against the West, the cell plots to raze the grand hotel where the world’s leaders are scheduled to gather for their final press conference. Alerted by the CIA, the National Intelligence Agency assigns its best officers, Tau Molepe and Gerry Viljoen – an African and an Afrikaner, and staunch friends and colleagues – to neutralize the threat. The two must delve into the dangerous underground world of international terror, navigating complex schemes and dedicated Muslim insurgents in an attempt to keep the leaders of the Free World safe. But no matter what they do, Tau and Gerry always find themselves one step behind their target and time is running out fast.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781783081912
Publisher:	Union Bridge Books
Publication date:	06/30/2014
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	440
File size:	1 MB
Age Range:	18 Years

About the Author

Malcolm Kohll is a South African writer who divides his time between South Africa and the UK. ‘Good Hope’ is his second book.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Observatory, Cape Town. A mixed suburb near the University of Cape Town, consisting of small Victorian houses let out to students, artists and those of modest income. Like policemen. Which is why Gerry Viljoen and, until very recently, his girlfriend Aletta lived there.

But after the fight, he had just let her go. She slammed the door and he heard her footsteps clicking on the slasto stoep then crunching the gravel in the driveway. He tracked her footfalls past the loquat tree where the mouse birds lived, then the screech of the iron gate and the loud clang as it relocked itself. The car door slammed and finally her Yaris started and she drove off into the night. 'Bitch,' muttered Gerry as he poured himself a stiff brandy and stared at the ashes of his life. 'Bitch!' he yelled into the darkness.

It had all started innocently enough. Aletta had said that she had bumped into her ex-fiancé, Louis Eskteen, and gone for coffee with him.

'Where? Where'd you bump into him?' demanded Gerry. His tone caused her to frown. 'In Greenpoint. He's got a flat nearby.'

'Nice place, is it?'

'What? Christ Gerry, I don't know. We went for coffee. To Café Neo. Louis made me an intriguing offer ...'

'I'll bet,' muttered Gerry.

'Excuse me?' said Aletta, her cheeks burning. 'What the hell's that supposed to mean?'

'Nothing.'

'No, you meant something. Come on! What?'

'It's fine. You go have coffee with your ex.'

'Gerry! I can't believe you're saying this! He made me a job offer! Partner in a new pharmacy in George.'

'George? That's fucking great! So you want to go and live in George now?'

'For Christ's sake stop being so ridiculous! I wanted to discuss it with you!'

'I can't live in George!' Yelled Gerry. 'You want to go and be with your old flame, fine!'

'I can't believe you!' said Aletta, tears in her eyes as she grabbed her handbag and stamped out.

Gerry squinted at his watch. It was past midnight and a full hour and four fingers of Klipdrift brandy since Aletta had left and since then, silence. Gerry had spent his time ruminating, and eventually what started out as a dim and slightly crazy notion had coalesced into something ineffable in his woozy brain. One way or the other, he had to know.

He climbed into his blue Impreza and blipped the throttle a couple of times before pulling a tight U-turn and zig-zagging through the quiet back streets of Observatory towards the highway leading to the City bowl, then out to Mouille Point. There was virtually no traffic at that time of night and Gerry flew along De Waal Drive, flanking the Mountain, feeling a shove in his back as the turbo kicked in. Then down through the gears as he swooped off the flyover back to street level. He buzzed through the robot on amber and swung right towards Sea Point, hitting nearly 160KPH as he stormed towards Greenpoint Stadium.

He knew that Eksteen lived in a three bedroom flat on the beachfront, within spitting distance of Café Neo, where the rich and beautiful would congregate for skinny lattes after jogging to the lighthouse or walking their Schnauzers. The Café was shut, and Gerry was cruising slowly along the line of cars parked against the curb in Beach Road. He suddenly slowed — there was Aletta's Yaris, within five hundred metres of the porticoed entrance of Mirabelle, the five storey block of Art Deco flats, recently renovated in cream and burnished chrome. Gerry found a parking space around the corner and was immediately accosted by a Cameroonian with a pock-marked face in a fluorescent vest who guided him into the opening and promised to keep his car safe. Gerry scowled at him and crossed the road, the better to observe the flats from the nubby salt grass verges leading up to the sea wall. A mist had risen off the steely South Atlantic swell, frosting his eyelashes as he looked up at the top floor to the only lit flat. As he watched, the lights went out.

'Fuck!' said Gerry and glared at the dark block, then turned and walked back to his car. Moments later the Cameroonian emerged from the darkness with his hand outstretched 'Sharp-sharp, boss.' Gerry was about to argue but slapped two Rands into the man's hand and shut the car door. His hands were trembling slightly as he opened the cubby hole and took out a matchbox. Inside was a white and gold wafer the size of his thumbnail. He slid open the back of his phone and inserted the new SIM card and dialled.

'There's gunshots and screams coming from a flat ... Mouille Point, Beach Road. The block is called Mirabelle ... You spell it like it sounds, Jissis ... Top floor, number 513.'

Gerry rung off and replaced the SIM with the original one, slid the untraceable one back into its matchbox and pulled away from the curb, chuckling to himself. 'Coitus interruptus, my friend. Big time.'

Heading back towards De Waal Drive he passed two Police cars driving fast the opposite way, sirens keening and lights flashing.

By the time Gerry got home the effects of the Klipdrift had largely worn off. While taking a handful of Advil he glanced in bathroom mirror and saw a man in his mid 30's, rings around his eyes, stubble on his chin and a stain on his shirt staring out at him. 'Arsehole,' he said, shaking his head. He fell onto his bed and waited for insensibility to overwhelm his hurt.

Six thirty in the morning isn't a time, it's an insult. And Gerry felt truly disrespected when the doorbell jangled his fried neurons and he staggered to the front door in his underpants and yanked it open, hoping to see a contrite Aletta standing there. Instead he saw a tall muscular black man in combat trousers and a tight olive vest, New Balance running shoes on his feet. He pushed past Gerry into the small bungalow.

'You were supposed to be ready! Six thirty — ding-dong! It's gonna be hot today and we're going up the long way.'

Gerry groaned. The idea of climbing Table Mountain with an elephantine hangover and awash in self-pity and remorse made no sense. Having his colleague and friend Tau Molepe in boundless good humour and enthusiasm only made matters worse.

'Letta not here?' asked Tau.

'No,' said Gerry. 'Put on some coffee, I need a shower.'

'Really? That rank sweat is kinda fetching,' said Tau wrinkling his nose. 'I thought you guys were in last night?'

'We were, but she's not here now, okay? Just get the coffee on!'

Gerry went up the short passage to the bathroom and entered the shower cubicle. It smelled of Aletta's soap and shampoo. Gerry muttered darkly and turned on the hot tap. He stood out of the stream until the water was steaming, then plunged, feeling the heat scalding his skin. Then he flipped the lever to Cold, and let the icy blast snap him back into consciousness. Two minutes later he walked into the kitchen, tugging up his black rugby shorts over which hung a Springbok green and gold striped rugby shirt. Tau was watching the coffee drip through the filter cone and didn't glance up.

'You were yelping in there,' he said. 'Hangover?' 'I don't yelp. And only girls and students get hangovers,' growled Gerry.

Tau poured two mugs of coffee and set one silently before Gerry.

'You want to tell me about it?'

'No,' said Gerry.

Tau sniffed the air.

'Mmm. Nice. Is that Lily of the Valley or White Lavender?'

Gerry went to his bedroom and emerged moments later with his Sig Sauer P250, loaded with 9mm hollow-points.

'I might have to shoot you today. I'm just letting you know,' he said, tucking the gun into his waistband.

Tau nodded and started opening cupboards. 'Touchy,' he said. 'You have issues with your manhood. Look, Lily of the Fields doesn't make you homosexual. You haven't started listening to Barbara Streisand have you? Where are the biscuits?'

Gerry waved his gun vaguely at the cupboards. Tau grabbed his wrist and seized the gun and flipped out the magazine and laid it on the counter.

'Don't EVER point a fucken gun at me! Now find me some of your ouma's rusks before I have to kick your sorry arse.'

'Now who's touchy?' grumbled Gerry.

'Jissis. Top shelf.'

Ten minutes later they were driving towards the Constantia end of Table Mountain, and within twenty minutes were striding through the fynbos of the lower slopes of Skeleton Gorge. The sun had burned away the last trails of mist and the rock hyraxes were sunning themselves on flat boulders. Gerry stopped for a pull on his water bottle and squinted at the narrow stony path stretching up towards the summit — it was going to be a long hard climb. Tau, about 50 metres ahead of him, turned round with a wave. 'Feels good!' He called. Gerry ground his teeth and carried on.

After the first hour Gerry had sweated most of the toxins out of his system, and was in more familiar territory of burning muscles and pounding heart. The snatchiness of his stride had given way to smoother and more regular footfalls, but he was still struggling to keep sight of Tau who seemed to power effortlessly ahead.

A bright green snake skittered across the path just in front of Gerry and he leaped back with a cry. Tau came bounding down the track towards him.

'OK?'

'Ja. Looked like a mamba! Just there!'

Tau glanced quickly around.

'Probably more scared of you than you are of it,' he said.

'Right. Till the bastard bites you. Then you're plenty scared.'

They took a drink from their canteens and rested on a smooth grey rock etched with patches of green and orange lichen. The ancient forests were spread below them on one side, on the other the city bowl. And above, the looming presence of the Mountain. A table cloth of white cloud was pouring over the summit.

Tau turned and squinted. 'Not much visibility up top,' he said.

'Bout two more hours,' said Gerry. 'Might clear.'

'We shouldn't sit too long,'' said Tau. 'Don't want the muscles seizing up.'

'You missed your calling,' said Gerry. 'Should have been a nanny.'

The path grew steeper and in some places disappeared entirely, but as they approached the summit the sun burned through the low cloud and slowly the vista opened below them.

'If I have a heart attack you must promise me one thing ...' gasped Gerry, hauling off his rucksack and falling flat on his back. He lay staring up at a porcelain sky braided with cloud, his heart hammering, lungs searing in the crisp air. The sun was now directly overhead, an unseasonal 32 degrees.

'What?' Tau fell onto the earth beside him, also gulping lung-fulls of oxygen.

'No mouth-to-mouth. If I'm gonna die then take a big rock and smack me across the head with it.'

'Be my pleasure,' said Tau.

After a few moments Gerry managed to raise his wristwatch to his face.

'Three hours forty. Not bad,' he said.

'It's not record-breaking, but we did come up the hard way.'

'You got any water?' Asked Gerry. 'I finished mine even before the halfway marker.'

Tau shook his empty water bottle.

'Sheesh. Not even a Coke?'

Tau laughed and sat up. Gerry sat up as well, groaning from the exertion. From the top of Table Mountain they could see the entire Cape Peninsula laid out below them, the bottommost tip of Africa jutting out into the ocean. The clear confluence of the Atlantic and Indian Oceans was visible, and beyond that a distant haze stretching uninterrupted all the way to Antarctica.

'So?' said Tau. 'How did you screw up the only good relationship you ever had?'

Gerry was about to argue but saw it was futile. 'I think she's seeing another bloke,' said Gerry.

'THINK? You know thinking's not your strong suit. Do you have proof?'

'I saw her go into his flat late last night and all the lights went off!'

'And?'

'Do you want a fucken road map?

'So what did you do?'

'Busted,' muttered Gerry.

'Come again.'

'I had them busted. I called in a 515. Suspected homicide.'

'Anonymously?'

'I'm not a total cunt, you know.'

'Jury's still out. So did she call you from the cells? Say Gerry honey, having me arrested was the best thing you ever did for me?'

'No,' said Gerry miserably. 'But if she was innocent, why was she there? And what happened after lights out?'

'Well, short of throwing yourself on her mercy and begging forgiveness, I doubt you'll ever know.'

'You don't think she'll suss that it was me who called it in?'

'Oh, I reckon it would take her about five seconds on a slow day.'

'Fuck.' Said Gerry. 'Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.'

'On reflection,' said Tau, leaning back on his backpack. 'You know what you said earlier about being a cunt..?'

'Thanks, pal,' said Gerry.

'Nothing you can do now but wait and see how she reacts. But don't get your hopes up.'

'If she is seeing another guy then it's over, right?'

'Knowing Aletta, I'd say that in the remote chance she was seeing someone else, she'd admit it.'

'That's what's bugging me. She was steaming because I wouldn't believe her.'

'You've got trust issues.'

'Maybe I should have shot you,' muttered Gerry as he pulled a grass stalk out of its sheath and nibbled the soft tip.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

'It's so peaceful up here,' said Tau, feeling the sweat cooling.

'Why did you have to say that? Huh?' Yelled Gerry. 'What an arse!'

'You're very superstitious for a white man,' said Tau.

'That's rich from someone who thinks his oupa is a chameleon!' said Gerry, fumbling in his backpack. He held out a stick of biltong. Tau snapped it in half and handed one piece back to Gerry.

'I'll discuss animism and its role in traditional beliefs any time, but the reason I don't like chameleons is because ... I just don't like the way they change colour all the time,' said Tau.

'Like the Chinese,' said Gerry. Tau gave him a sideways look then turned to stare out at the vista. They chewed their biltong in silence. The singing of the cicadas presaged a breeze, cooling the sweat on their bodies. Minutes ticked by. Gerry hummed a soft tune, waiting him out. Finally Tau could take it no longer.

'What do you mean, 'Like the Chinese?'

'In the bad old days under apartheid they were made "honorary whites" - now they've asked to be classified as "blacks" to take advantage of Black Economic Empowerment.'

'Ja, exactly like a chameleon,' growled Tau.

Which was when a tinny version of The Ride of the Valkyries trilled in the bottom of Gerry's rucksack. Gerry glared at Tau.

'Superstitious? Prescient!' said Gerry, fishing for the Blackberry. He glanced at the Caller ID and braced himself.

'Sir?'

'I want you and Molepe in my office within the hour.' The bass rumble came from Jonas Chitepo, Head of the NIA, the National Intelligence Agency.

'Uh ... We're actually on top of Table Mountain ... ' said Gerry, mentally working out the quickest way down.

'One hour,' said Chitepo and the line went dead.

'Did he say why?' asked Tau.

'Jissis,' grumbled Gerry. 'Doesn't he know it's Sunday?'

'What does that tell you?!' Said Tau, hauling himself to his feet.

'That he needs to get a life,' said Gerry. 'Last one to the cable car station is a sissy.'

'I hope it's running,' said Tau, striding out across the rocky tussocks. A family of dassies skittered away, and overhead a hawk soared on a thermal, wingtips trimming flight, tail balancing.

They managed to reach the cable car station in just under 20 minutes, as a car arrived at the dock. A queue of tourists was waiting for the car to settle before the doors opened when Gerry walked up to the attendant and flashed him his identity card, which showed a grimfaced Gerrit Hermanus Viljoen, 32 years old, staring straight into camera and identifying him as an Officer in the National Intelligence Agency. The attendant nodded and waved Gerry and Tau into the car ahead of a couple of Japanese tourists who grumbled loudly until Tau silenced them with a glare.

The ride down the mountain was spectacular, with the car slowly revolving to give a full panoramic view of Cape Town and its harbour before coming gently to a halt at the docking station at the foot of the mountain.

Gerry and Tau stepped into the blinding sunshine of the parking lot.

'How are we supposed to get to our car? It's round the other bladdy side,' muttered Gerry just as an unmarked Corolla pulled up beside them.

Leaning out of the window was Ramalao, one of the cheerful pool drivers in a garish T Shirt with straw hat perched jauntily on the side of his head. He flung open the passenger door.

'Hop in, gents. The bossman wants you like yesterday!'

'I'm liking this less and less,' muttered Gerry.

'Since when did "like" feature?' said Tau as they clambered in.

'Buckle up or die,' said Ramalao.

'You aren't wearing your seatbelt,' said Gerry.

'Ah, that's because I know I won't crash. But you don't know that.'

Ramalao put a flashing light on the roof and hit the siren and grinned at Tau who was sitting in the front beside him.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Good Hope"
by .
Copyright © 2014 Malcolm Kohll.
Excerpted by permission of Wimbledon Publishing Company.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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