Swift Justice Page 6

  Hein’s expression immediately changed. The ice-blue eyes that could sometimes be so inviting and attractive suddenly turned cold. “Okay,” he said. He hesitated for a few seconds, and then added, “Oh, I just remembered, I wanted to remind you of the money you owe me for the coffee the other day. You said you’d pay me back for it but I haven’t heard from you since then.”

  “Of course,” Edgar said without missing a beat, feeling his cheeks flush with heat. He pulled out his wallet, and looked at the many credit cards that were no better than ornaments at that point. He opened the cash section of his wallet to see a lone R100 note, and not knowing how much he owed Hein and being too embarrassed to ask, he handed over the note. “I hope this covers it.”

  “It should be enough,” Hein said, taking the note without breaking eye contact with Edgar. His face was expressionless. “I guess I’ll be seeing you in class, then. Let me know when you’re not too busy and I’ll check my calendar too. So many social events these days, you know?”

  Hein walked away, his expensive shoes clicking on the ground every time he took a step. Edgar’s shoulders dropped and he stretched his neck to alleviate some of the tension. He took his phone out of his pocket again. Still no calls. Finally, in complete desperation, he scrolled through his contact list and found a name that he was dreading to be in contact with, and hit call.

  The phone rang for a long time, and just as Edgar was ready to give up, he heard the sharp, loud voice through the speaker: “Hello, Edgar. I was wondering when you’d call.”

  “Hello, Wesley.” Edgar always adopted a slightly more refined accent when he spoke with one of his brothers. It was a habit that he hated, but he knew that, especially for Wesley, it was necessary. “How are you?” Edgar asked, and immediately felt stupid for being so trivial with his brother.

  “Ask your question, Edgar. Let’s not be children here.” Wesley’s words cut like a knife.

  “I’m looking for father. Has he spoken with you? I can’t get in touch with him at all. It’s extremely important that I speak with him as soon as possible.”

  Edgar waited for a response, hearing Wesley’s breathing in the phone. Wesley obviously knew everything that was happening, and was trying to torture Edgar.

  Finally, Wesley spoke again, “Listen carefully, Edgar. Father told me to take over handling you for a while. He says he had an item on his credit card bill for £1000 at a hotel in Cape Town, and when his secretary called the hotel they said that it was for a broken vase. This was not the first preposterous nonsense he’s been charged for, Edgar. You might think that father is just a limitless well of money for you, but enough is enough. You’re no better over there than you were here. We thought that letting you go to a country like that might teach you some common sense, but it seems you’re just the same frivolous child you’ve always been. He’s cut your spending until you can get yourself under control.”

  “What does that mean, Wesley? I need to pay rent for my flat today or they’ll kick me out. How am I supposed to survive without any money? I still have almost two months left of the exchange program. I demand to speak with father.” Edgar tried to sound assertive, but when he spoke with his brothers he always felt like a child trying to wear adult’s clothing.

  “You demand. I think you’ll find that that’s your problem, Edgar. You’ve been floating around directionless, deciding to do this law degree instead of working at the family business like the rest of us. We were all able to grow up, become our own men, and you’re still acting like you’re owed something. No, you won’t get to demand anything anymore. You’ll be moving out of the expensive flat that father is paying for, and move into more modest accommodation until you can get back to England. You’ll come back immediately after your final exams. Father will be wiring a stipend for your necessities; you won’t get a penny more. Count yourself lucky. He’s asked us to go over there and bring you back kicking and screaming. Thomas, Lawrence and I might still come through if things don’t start turning around soon. Are we understood?”

  Before Edgar could answer Wesley, the phone was hung up in his ear. He sighed deeply, his mind reeling. He had done his best to make Ridgemont a new start for himself, a way to turn his life around and perhaps even gain the respect of his family. And once again, just like he had been for his entire childhood, he was nothing but a disappointment. His three brothers had all gone into the family business. They were all very traditional men; they were good at sports, focused and driven. They had all won the respect of his father, and had all started families of their own. Edgar had always been more sensitive, much closer to his mother than the rest of the sons, and directionless in his life. All he knew was that he had been drawn to the country where his mother had been born, the place she had spoken about until the day she died. He had built it up in his mind as something magical, perhaps even something that could heal him. But at that moment, sitting on the bench in the middle of Donovan Square, he felt emptier and more directionless than ever.

  Chapter 10

  Tumi sat in the large hall where mock court would be held later in the morning. No one else had arrived yet; Tumi liked to be early so that he could feel comfortable in the room before the other students arrived. The bench seemed ominous in front of him, the Ridgemont emblem emblazoned on the wall behind it. The empty rows of seats in the gallery behind Tumi made him feel like the whole world stopped turning for a bit. He shuffled through his notes, every slight noise in the large hall echoing, and he felt small. The mock courtroom set up in the law building reminded Tumi of why he had wanted to become a lawyer in the first place. He had remembered his past, the fact that he had been born in a poorly-resourced clinic in a sprawling township, the fact that there was still so much work to be done in South Africa. Watching his mother, the way she carried herself and the work that she did to fight for justice, he wanted to be just like her. He wanted to be the champion of all of those millions of people who felt left behind, and that he still felt a connection to even though he had been adopted into a very different lifestyle. But at that moment, sitting in the empty hall at Ridgemont University, he felt incredibly powerless.

  As he sifted through his notes, he stumbled upon the newspaper clippings of Angela Ngcobo that he kept close to him at all times over the past few weeks. He had become almost obsessive with learning more about the woman. She had been involved in the political movements in the township, trying to fight for change. When she left the township to live with family in Johannesburg, she was still very poor, but she found her way into the right circles. Finally, she became something of a protégé to the man who had gone on to become president, Harry Baleka. The facts all lined up; she lived in the township where Tumi was born, and she bore a striking resemblance to the shadowy woman in the picture of the fire that had ravaged the township when Tumi was two-years-old. But if she truly was Tumi’s mother, why had she not come to search for him once she had made a better life for herself? Why had she decided to move on without him, instead of taking him along to Johannesburg? There were a million questions Tumi wanted to ask her, and her visit to Ridgemont was now only a week away. Tumi had already made a reservation to attend her speech on women empowerment, and he had been rehearsing what he would say to her every night before he fell asleep. It was almost enough to make him completely lose interest in mock court.

  His mind drifted to his opponent in mock court, Edgar, and the hours they had spent together in the law library a few nights prior. He had seen a different side of Edgar that night, and was prepared to even consider the possibility that he might have judged him too quickly. Edgar had said that he wanted to distance himself from the snobbish guys that he often hung out with, and maybe he wasn’t just like them after all. Tumi had been thinking about Edgar quite a bit over the past few days, even considering the legal argument that Edgar had shared with him that he could have used to counter Edgar’s motion to dismiss a key witness. Why would Edgar share such a strategy with him? It seemed like something so out of
character for someone who prided himself on being ruthless when it came to the law. Maybe there was something Edgar wasn’t telling him, some reason he had trusted Tumi…

  Just as Tumi’s thoughts began to run to Edgar’s soft, handsome features and the way his chest looked in his tight shirt at the law ball, he heard footsteps behind him in the hall. He gasped when he saw Edgar walking towards the front of the hall. Edgar was wearing a plain white shirt and blue striped tie, his face stuck in a grimace. He seemed not to even notice that Tumi was in the room as he went over to the defense team’s desk.

  Tumi called out gingerly, “Morning, Edgar. Are you okay?” He had felt like they had bonded after the law ball, but there was definitely no warmth in Edgar’s green eyes as he looked up after Tumi greeted him.

  “Hello, Tumi. I’m fine. Just a long few days.” Something was clearly wrong. Edgar seemed distracted and annoyed.

  Tumi wrestled with what to say. Would it be appropriate for him to pry? Just a few days before, he had summed up Edgar as nothing more than a spoiled brat, and had treated him as such. Now, he was genuinely concerned about the guy that he felt an inexplicable connection to. But Edgar seemed in no mood to talk to Tumi at that moment. Tumi pushed aside his reservations and went with his gut, trying to lighten the mood and invite Edgar to talk, and said, “I thought I was the only one who liked being so early for these things. Getting a feel of the room before the big day?”

  Edgar merely nodded and mumbled a response. Tumi became increasingly confused. What was Edgar’s problem? At law ball, he seemed eager to get to know Tumi better, and he had even been flirting a bit. Now, it seemed like Edgar couldn’t care less about Tumi’s existence.

  Tumi tried again, “If you need to talk about anything, I’m right here. I know these things can be nerve wracking sometimes, but you’ll do great. I know you will.”

  “I’m not worried,” Edgar said, once again showing the same overconfidence that Tumi had become used to. “I just need to get this course over with so I can get out of this country and get on with my life. It’s been nothing but a mess ever since I got here, and I’m just over it right now.” Edgar turned to look at Tumi, a fleeting look of regret passing through his eyes, and he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came.

  Tumi turned back to his notes, not knowing what to say to Edgar’s sudden outburst. These were the types of hot and cold signals that Tumi had absolutely no patience for. He said under his breath: “I hope you get to leave soon, then.” He avoided looking at Edgar for the rest of their wait, and a few minutes later the other students began to arrive.

  The hall filled up quickly, and nervous chatter made the mood become tense. As the large clock on the far wall struck 9 a.m., Prof. Nkuna entered the hall in her formal judge’s robes, her round cheeks pulled into a serious expression. Tumi felt his stomach begin to bubble with nerves, and greeted Judy and the rest of his team. Judy seemed particularly nervous on that day, her gangly arms reaching up to adjust her jacket and her hair neatly tied behind her head. “I hope you’re ready for this, Tumi,” she said, only making Tumi more nervous. “We have to hit them with everything we’ve got today. The argument we discussed yesterday should really weaken their case.”

  The witness was the brother of the defendant, a rich businessman who was privy to a lot of the business meetings that led up to the alleged illegal government dealings in the mock court. Judy started off the arguments for the prosecution, asking the questions to set up the foundation of their argument, and she performed as well as could be expected for someone with as much nervous energy as she often had. When she sat down, Tumi patted her gently on her shoulder. “Good job, advocate,” he said, smiling warmly. “You did everything you were supposed to and you let him paint himself into a corner. I’ll be able to land the final blow easily after all of that.”

  Judy simply nodded and took a sip of water from the glass in front of her, her hand shaking slightly. Tumi wished that he could do more to comfort her, but he had to maintain professionalism in the courtroom.

  The first member of the defense team, an overeager student named Riyaad, tried to undo some of the damage that the witness had put himself into with his contradictory answers to Judy’s questions, but Tumi could see that they were winning that day in court. There was no way that the witness could deny that his brother had organized illegal trading without incriminating himself as a board member, so he tried to stealthily avoid answering some questions directly. Despite trying really hard to obscure the issue, Riyaad wasn’t making the witness look any better.

  Finally, it was Tumi’s turn to land the finishing blow to the witness. He stood up, looking up at Prof. Nkuna’s expectant eyes, and took a deep breath. His voice boomed out with confidence: “My Lady, I draw your attention to the affidavit filed as exhibit 41B…” Tumi proceeded to show that the witness had contradicted an earlier statement by claiming that he was involved in a meeting that he had no business being a part of, and that he had never seen files which were meant to have passed his desk as the head of international acquisitions at the company. It was a rock-solid case, and Tumi’s confidence grew with each word. He could feel that he was impressing all of the other students as they hung on his every word. Tumi addressed the witness, “Mr. Naude, is it my understanding that you claim to have never signed off on the shipment in question to Zimbabwe?” Tumi held his breath as he awaited the answer; the witness would surely strengthen their case in one way or another, no matter how he responded. But just as the witness opened his mouth to respond, Tumi heard the dreaded words coming from the defense desk: “I object, My Lady.”

  Tumi spun around to see Edgar’s standing behind his desk. In that moment, Tumi felt like he could explode. He wanted to shout, Are you kidding me?

  Edgar spoke in a dry monotone, showing no expression on his face: “The witness is not obligated to answer this question. I present a clause that specifically allows those with sensitive information involving possible state-sanctioned diplomatic dealings to avoid testimony in criminal cases…” Edgar went on to explain the clause and the precedent that was set in a case a few years earlier. He seemed completely disinterested, like he was merely reciting something that he found tedious. Tumi’s blood was boiling.

  When Edgar finished, Tumi shot back: “My Lady, this precedent does not apply in this case. The previous case which counsel refers to involved the sensitive relationship with the Chinese government, and the tender that was granted with shown to be illegal despite the witness’s incriminating testimony. This case is completely different.” Tumi did his best to show the differences between the two cases, but he was becoming flustered. Once again, Edgar was trying to stretch a tenuous argument to get his team out of hot water. And by the look on Prof. Nkuna’s face as Tumi responded, Edgar was succeeding.

  Prof. Nkuna sat in thought for a second, mulling over the complex arguments presented by Tumi and Edgar. Finally, she responded, “Objection sustained. Counsel will refrain from questions involving deals which the witness specifically signed.”

  Tumi’s heart sank to his feet. There were signs of excitement from the defense team. Tumi knew that this was their moment to really turn the tide in their favor, to cripple the defense in a way that was almost impossible to get out of. Now that they weren’t allowed to land their finishing blow, their own case was much weaker. Tumi felt himself almost overcome with anger, and simply said, “No further questions for this witness, My Lady.”

  Prof. Nkuna called a halt to the proceedings for the day, and Tumi could barely look Edgar in the eye as he stormed out. Once again, Edgar had played a dirty game in the courtroom and gotten away with it. Once again, he was standing in the way of the truth getting out and of justice being served. Tumi was furious. He marched back to Nova, his mind filled with all of the curse words he wanted to spew at Edgar.

  ***

  Tumi threw himself onto his bed in his room at Nova, still wearing the shirt that he had worn to mock court. He hadn’t been abl
e to calm himself down on the walk from the law building. How could Edgar act that way in mock court? How could he so easily change the way that he treated Tumi? Tumi had wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, and look past the bad first impression, but now, he didn’t know what to think. Tumi felt so angry that his eyes began to burn. He felt the same way that he felt when he was a child, when he felt that someone was treating him unfairly, like when Mohale was praised so much more by uncles and aunts because he was seen as the golden boy, and Tumi could never keep up. In those moments, Tumi had always wondered if they didn’t notice him because he wasn’t a real Moketla. He had always felt like an intruder, someone who didn’t fully belong, and his entire life all he felt like he was doing was fooling people into thinking that he was something that he could never be. Edgar had made him feel that way again, and had brought up all of those painful memories. Tumi tried to fight it, but he sensed that he was close to tears.

  What was worse, Neville had left for Joburg only two days before. Tumi looked at the empty bed across the room, and the desk where Neville’s teapot used to be. With Neville gone, Tumi felt all alone at Nova. It had always been an alien place to him, but Neville had made it feel like home, and even when he had the chance to move into an apartment the year before, he had chosen to stay to be close to his friend. He longed to talk to someone about what had happened in mock court. But he feared that if he spoke to his family, they would only see him as a disappointment. Of course, they would never say it; they were nothing but supportive of him. But Tumi would think it, and he would feel it. He would never be as confident or have his life quite as sorted out as Mohale. He would never be the high-powered lawyer like his mother. Especially not if he allowed himself to be humiliated in mock court.