Chapter 7 - The Man From His Past
Mthente slowly stood.
“Did he tell you his name?”
His mother nodded.
“Radebe.”
I watched the color drain from his face.
“Bhekizizwe Radebe?” he asked.
“Yes. That's what he called himself.”
Mthente turned away and pressed both hands against the back of his neck.
I had seen that expression before.
It was the look he wore whenever something from his old life threatened to catch up with him.
“Who is he?” I demanded.
Mthente didn't answer immediately.
Then he spoke.
“He was the man who gave me assignments.”
My stomach tightened.
“The man who paid you to kill people?”
He nodded.
For several seconds, the only sound came from the chickens moving inside their coop.
His mother watched him carefully.
“That man said you'd betrayed him.”
Mthente looked toward her.
“What else did he say?”
“He said you'd better remember what happens to people who forget their obligations.”
I stepped closer.
“Did he threaten you?”
She shook her head.
“Not directly. But he frightened me.”
Mthente's expression darkened.
“He shouldn't have come here.”
His mother gave a bitter laugh.
“That's what I've been telling you for years. Your troubles always find their way to my door.”
He looked down.
“I'm sorry.”
She turned away.
I realized the stranger's visit must have intensified the fear and exhaustion that had already driven her to prepare for her funeral.
But this was no longer only a family crisis.
Someone dangerous knew where Mthente's mother lived.
And he wanted something.
“Why would Radebe come here now?” I asked.
Mthente hesitated.
“Because I refused the last assignment he gave me.”
I felt a chill.
“Me?”
He nodded.
I knew someone had paid him to kill me.
But I'd never understood how much danger his refusal might have created.
“Tell me everything,” I said.
Mthente looked at his mother.
“Not here.”
She shook her head.
“No, Tusa. I'm tired of being the last person to know what's happening in my own family.”
He lowered his eyes.
For once, he didn't argue.
“Radebe controlled the people who hired me. He arranged the jobs, collected the money, and made sure nobody talked.”
“And when you refused to kill Nangomusa?” his mother asked.
“He told me I would regret it.”
She stared at him.
“You should have gone to the police.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn't you?”
Mthente swallowed.
“Because I would have to tell them what I've done.”
His mother looked at him for a long moment.
“And maybe it's time you did.”
Her words seemed to strike him harder than anything she'd said earlier.
I was surprised too.
This was the same woman who had refused to believe her son could change.
Yet now she was demanding that he face the truth.
Not escape it.
Not hide from it.
Face it.
As the evening darkened, she suddenly remembered something.
“The man left an envelope.”
Mthente turned sharply.
“Where?”
She pointed toward another building.
“I didn't want to touch it.”
We followed her inside.
From a kitchen cupboard, she removed a plain brown envelope.
Mthente opened it carefully.
Inside was a photograph of me walking into my office building.
The picture had been taken recently.
My heart pounded.
Someone had been watching me.
Mthente turned the photograph over.
There was an address written on the back.
His face hardened.
I leaned closer.
It was the address of Sandiso's paternal grandmother.
May you like
And beneath it, someone had written:
YOUR BROTHER IS NEXT.
