Roots of Outrage

‘Because I would know what’s going on in my cell!’

‘They’re in your cell?’

She closed her eyes. ‘I’m not going to answer that.’

She already had. ‘But it’s possible they did it without your knowledge.’

Her hands were shaking. ‘Anything is possible.’

‘How do you know your smuggled explosives weren’t used in that station bomb? Who did you give them to?’

She looked at him fiercely, tremulously. ‘I wouldn’t answer that question if I knew. But I don’t know. The procedure is secret, so I can’t know, so I can’t tell the police if I’m caught. I simply park my car in an appointed place, and walk away. Somebody comes and collects the stuff.’ She added: ‘For use against military targets.’

Mahoney took a deep-breath, and massaged his eyes. Okay, he believed her. Thank God. He sighed. ‘Smuggling explosives … is that the reason you weren’t going to see me again?’

Her eyes moistened, and she wanted to cry, I’m pregnant, that’s why I can’t see you again! She blinked back the burn and told half of it: ‘The reason is that there’s no future in our relationship. Because I will not leave this country. And I don’t want to break my heart further. Or yours. And because it’s too dangerous now that Lilliesleaf’s been raided. On the day of the raid Krombrink put the screws on you to be an informer, and I refused to let you be a double-agent, expose you to those risks. And anyway you’re not the type.’ She tried to glare, to smother the tears. ‘And if you don’t believe that you can go to hell.’

Mahoney sighed. ‘Well, I was coming back to tell you, before I was so rudely interrupted by Krombrink, that I’d decided I am the type. If you can be, so can I. That you’re right, we can’t take this government lying down.’ He added: ‘And that’s the only way we can be together.’

She was staring at him. Taken aback. She began to argue but he continued grimly: ‘However, I didn’t know you were involved in bombs – even indirectly.’ He looked at her. ‘I’m not prepared to be involved – even indirectly – in things like that, Patti. In murder. Nor am I prepared to let you be.’

‘Are you saying you’re prepared to be a double – work for the ANC and feed Krombrink disinformation?’

He said quietly: ‘That’s what I was coming back to tell you; yes. But that’s before I learnt about the explosives. However, that’s all academic now. Because we’ve got to leave the country. Fast. And never come back until this government’s fallen.’

‘But are you still prepared to work for the ANC?’

He took a deep breath. ‘That very much depends. On a whole lot of things: where we are, what kind of work. Give them free legal advice when I’m qualified? Sure. Do some writing for them? Sure, as long as it’s not Marxist crap. Write about apartheid? I already do that. Do some administrative work? Yes, as long as it’s honest – and nothing to do with bombs. And that kind of thing –’ he jabbed a finger at her – ‘is the only sort of work you