Passport to Crime

Wages of Sin
by François Bloemhof

Translated from the Afrikaans  by Josh Pachter

As he strides through the long grass, he sees something glittering up ahead in the moonlight.

His name is Andries Barkhuizen, and there’s a reason he finds himself traversing this field in Cape Town’s northern suburbs so late in the evening.

He parked four blocks away, to ensure that none of the residents on Krige Street will remember having seen his car. Later, when the police investigate, no one will be able to describe it or recall its plate number.

He moves closer to the object in the grass. Its reflection comes and goes as he approaches, because the grass sways in the wind, concealing and revealing it.

He looks around nervously, suddenly convinced this is some kind of trap. There have been several attacks out here in recent months, and it could be that the thing, whatever it is, is meant to distract him. It could be that he will be the assailant’s next victim.

No, that’s stupid. No one could be sure he would notice it, a small item in the tall grass in a wide field. And why would anyone think there might be another late-night visitor to this lonely place, given the attention the attacks have received in the press?

There are only five houses in Krige Street, beyond the field, and he is here because one of them belongs to Julian Steyn.

*   *   *

In his mind’s eye, Andries can still see Katrien sitting on the couch in his living room that afternoon, her face awash with tears.

“I’m sorry I came,” she said. “I didn’t know where else to turn. I had to talk to someone!”

He wished she’d said that she had to talk to him, but honestly, what difference would it have made? Their relationship was broken, no more subject to repair than a shattered china cup.

Was it really only a year ago that Julian Steyn had come into their lives? There had almost immediately been whispers about the charming new employee’s love life, though Andries had dismissed them at first as mere jealousy. He was satisfied with his position and salary and happy in his relationship with Katrien. He had befriended Julian, they had hung out together frequently, and he hadn’t felt threatened by the newcomer.

Julian wasn’t a particularly enthusiastic worker, but customers couldn’t wait to sign the contracts the personable new salesman offered them. He progressed through the company ranks with stunning speed, soon reached the same level as Andries on the organizational chart—and soon after that moved further up the ladder, leaving Andries behind.

Then the bastard stole Katrien from him . . . and then, within two weeks, dumped her. The rumor mill had it that he had moved on to Debbie van Breda, who worked in Employee Benefits and whose husband Barry ran Human Relations.

Next month, Julian would be transferring to corporate headquarters as a director. In his new role, he’ll be surrounded by security, so Andries realizes that if he intends to carry out the crazy idea that’s been brewing in his head he has to act soon.

*   *   *

He cased the area yesterday, and he knows that between where he stands and the houses there are plenty of stones. He can’t wait to hear Julian’s windows shatter. That ought to teach the bugger a lesson.

But now he reaches the object that twinkles on and off in the moonlight—and sees that it’s some kind of a gun, lying there in the grass. Andries knows next to nothing about guns. Is it a pistol? A revolver? Whatever it is, what in the world is it doing out here in this desolate field? Maybe it belongs to the person responsible for the recent attacks. Maybe he dropped it accidentally or threw it away on purpose.

Andries bends down and picks it up. It’s heavier than he thought a gun would be. Its grip fits neatly in the curve of his palm, feels somehow as if it belongs there.

He clumsily figures out how to break open the cylinder, and the moonlight is bright enough to see that only one chamber is empty. Five cartridges—bullets, rounds, whatever they’re called—remain. How hard can it be to make the thing shoot? You just point it at whatever you want to kill and pull the trigger.

Whatever you want to kill.

For just a moment, Andries considers dropping the revolver back where he found it. But only for a moment, because all at once he is excited. How can he have thought that a few broken windows would be enough? Now he has a way to fully repay Julian Steyn for all the harm he has done.

Do I have the guts for this? he asks himself, but he’s already resumed moving through the tall grass toward the houses. Halfway there, he comes to a sudden halt. Julian stole his girlfriend and then abandoned her, breaking her heart. That means that he—Andries, her previous lover—will be a suspect in his murder.

And then a second realization hits him: Katrien will also be suspected.

Scenarios whirl across his mind. Rumor has it that there are four other men at the company whose girlfriends or wives have succumbed to Julian’s attentions . . . and Andries is confident there are more who haven’t yet been gossiped about but will be after Julian’s death. In fact, the guy has made so many enemies within the organization that the police will have a hell of a time questioning them all.

And of course it’s not his revolver. Nothing connects him to it. He can break in, shoot Julian, get rid of the damn thing somewhere, and he’ll be in the clear.

He resumes walking, reaches the far edge of the field. There are the stones he meant to fling through Julian’s windows.

And there are the windows. There is the house.

No streetlamps. Well, yes, three of them, all as dead as Julian the Conqueror will be a few short minutes from now.

The other four homes are dark, but a dim light burns in Julian’s. Is he awake? Andries hopes so: He’d like to see fear in Julian’s eyes when he catches sight of the gun. Killing him in his sleep would be anticlimactic.

It shouldn’t be hard to get into the house. The last time he was there, an invited guest, he’d used the bathroom, and the wind howling at the window had annoyed him. He tried to close it, but there was something wrong with the catch. If Julian hasn’t had it repaired, he can slip in that way.

He conceals himself for a moment behind a bush about four meters from the house. He’ll have to make his getaway quickly, since there’ll be a hue and cry once a shot has been fired.

Or perhaps not. Once again, the wind is making quite a lot of noise. Even if someone does hear a bang, they may well think it’s just a car backfiring.

Andries peeks around the bush. There’s a glow behind Julian’s living-room window, but it’s coming from deeper in the house, probably the bedroom.

Maybe Julian’s not alone. Maybe he’s seducing some new girl.

Andries stifles a laugh. Apparently Julian doesn’t limit himself to girls. The rumor mill has also linked him with Alex Underwood, an executive in his late fifties who dresses like a boy of twenty, with tightly gelled hair and round glasses in a purple frame. For a while, Julian and Alex ate lunch together in the company cafeteria, and it was Alex who had recommended that Julian be promoted.

Shortly after that sensational development, Alex was seen knocking on the door of Julian’s new office at lunchtime—twice—but then proceeding to the cafeteria on his own. On the second occasion, Julian showed up with two girls from Systems on his arms, and that same afternoon Alex tried to hang himself with his tie from a beam in his office ceiling. A good thing the tie wasn’t as strong as it was stylish. His secretary—who’d returned to retrieve a file she’d forgotten to take with her—cut him down in time. He still has a bruise on his neck that peeks over the collars of his striped shirts.

Andries’s heart races, the way it does when you’re about to do something you know will make a difference in the world. This is for you, Katrien, he thinks, slipping around the corner of the house. Though you’ll never know who the gift came from.

 

 

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