Chapter 49 From the novel: Fraternity and Fratricide

Detective Chap and David returned to Johannesburg, their bodies exhausted from the long journey to Sydney. The following day, Chap approached Andy and recounted the moments when Justice Pearson had ruled against the extradition of Kiim. As he listened, Andy’s face became a canvas of emotions, displaying astonishment and worry.

Andy asked Chap to accompany him to Ricky’s office. As they entered the precinct, the familiar surroundings of the police headquarters offered little comfort. Ricky had just concluded a phone conversation with Sancton. His usually composed demeanour hinted at the strain of recent events. When he saw Chap, his face revealed a mix of relief and anticipation. Chap felt the weight of Ricky’s unspoken questions as he stood in the doorway. With frustration, he uttered the news of his return. He explained how the extradition request had faltered in the Australian courts. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Ricky’s response.

Ricky’s gaze shifted between Andy and Chap; his eyes filled with a solemn understanding. He expressed gratitude to Chap. He recognised the tireless effort put into unravelling the truth behind Winston’s assassination. Turning to Andy:

“What’s your take on appealing this in a higher court?” Ricky inquired, his eyes piercing with a sense of urgency.

“Sir, it’s not a wise move. Judge Pearson laid out compelling reasons for denying Kiim’s extradition,” Andy responded with a discerning look.

Ricky absorbed the words, the weight of the situation settling in. “We need a press statement. Something for the public to chew on,” Ricky suggested.

Andy reached into his bag and retrieved a copy of the Advocate newspaper that Chap had brought back from Australia. The headline screamed the denial of Kiim’s extradition, complete with Judge Pearson’s ruling. Ricky took the paper, scanning the contents with a furrowed brow.

“What if we get this in the Stir paper? Let people know what’s happening,” Ricky proposed.

Andy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Sure, we can do that. But Eddie needs to cite the source.”

“I’m just afraid Eddie might claim ownership of the article,” Ricky admitted.

“I’ll rewrite it, make it crisp. We’ll hand it over to Eddie with the proper citations.”

Chap had been quiet, his lips pressed together, almost throughout. He seemed like a man who had just emerged from a battlefield of exhaustion and exasperation. Though wearied, a sense of relief emanated from him. The two-year-long investigation had finally reached its conclusion.

The next day, Joy Blacks walked into Chap’s office, captivating the room with an air of intrigue. Her unexpected presence caused Chap to raise an eyebrow in surprise. On her left-hand fingers, she wore five gleaming rings that added a touch of elegance to her attire. Amongst the sombre mood of the police precinct, it appeared out of place.

 “Chap, darling, is Kiim around? I have some… business to discuss.”

 “Kiim’s not here. What do you want?”

 “Oh, you know, just some friendly conversation. We haven’t caught up, have we?”

 “Friendly conversation? Joy, I’m not in the mood for games.”

 “Well, I wonder about your little investigation. You know, the one that uncovered Kiim as the assassin.”

 “Yes, we’ve uncovered the truth. Liz and everyone affected by Winston’s death should face it and move on.”

 “Oh, Chap, where’s your sense of drama? I was secretly hoping Thaa Nkosi would be the killer. Can you imagine? Sancton wiping out the entire anti-apartheid support base in one fell swoop!”

 “Joy, when you kill your enemy, the body dies, but the spirit remains. It’s the latter that matters more than the former.”

 “You’ve changed, Chap. The investigation has transformed you, hasn’t it?”

 “Not only has it changed my perception of the world, but it’s also shaping the future of my personal choices. Layers of truth covered by deception, the clash of trust and dishonesty, and the beasts among humanity—these are the things I can no longer ignore.”

“Chap, I have been the queen in this investigation, and you’ve been the pawn,” Joy said as she walked away.

A week later, Chap went on a holiday with his wife Beth to Uganda. They spent the holiday in Queen Elizabeth National Park, in the western part of the country. As they were gazing at the elephants from a distance, after crossing the Kazinga channel, Beth’s questions blended with the distant trumpeting of elephants. The African sun cast long shadows over the savannah as Chap and Beth watched the majestic creatures graze. A subtle tension wrapped around them, like the roots of an ancient baobab tree sinking deep into the earth.

 “Why is this park called Queen Elizabeth?” Beth asked with curiosity in her voice.

 “Perhaps it was because of historical reasons,” Chap said as he gazed at the elephants.

“Is there a future for history?” Beth asked.

“Yes, of course,” Chap replied with a hint of enthusiasm in his voice. “The pages of history may turn yellow with time, but the lessons they impart remain eternally vibrant.”

“Who benefits from the lessons about Winston’s assassination?” Beth asked.

“Lovers of fraternity and haters of fratricide,” Chap replied with conviction.

 “Why did Kiim assassinate Winston instead of assassinating Sancton?” Beth asked.

Chap, his eyes narrowing as if searching for answers in the vast African landscape “Why do you ask, Beth?”

“Winston loved fraternity and Sancton loves fratricide,” Beth replied.

 “Sometimes, a person’s sins are suffered by innocent people,” Chap replied, his gaze still fixed on the elephants.

“How will Liz survive without Winston?” Beth asked, her voice filled with concern.

“She has to move on with her life, leaving behind the memories that weigh her down. Losing a dear one shouldn’t derail her, knowing we are all leaving this world someday.”

 “Will Sancton double his security to avoid assassination, then?” Beth asked.

“Well, I don’t know. But I think what’s important isn’t just personal security. It’s about listening to one’s inner self, hearing the cries for equality, and the plea for protecting lives. It’s about treating others as one wishes to be treated.”

“And what do you think about Thaa Nkosi’s anti-apartheid movements?”

“Honey, people’s cries and the bloodshed can never be put to waste. It’s just a matter of time. Nkosi and his supporters will one day be free.”

The elephants continued their peaceful grazing, seemingly oblivious to the weight of the conversation that had unfolded beneath the African sun.

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