Deluge

By Wessel Ebersohn

Almost everyone agreed the end of Apartheid was inevitable and necessary. But there were those who felt that they were losing the country they love. Gysbert Moolman, one of them, believed there was no future for him or his children in South Africa under the new ANC government. As a demonstration of his anger and to make clear the hopelessness of his situation he plants plastic explosives in a school hostel. One of the police interrogators, trying to get the truth out of him, gets carried away and Moolman is unconscious after being tortured.
Time to save the children is slipping away and Yudel Gordon is called in to revive him. He agrees, but only if he can use his own methods to try to extract the truth from the suspect. “You have half an hour,” he is told. Yudel’s challenge is to find the hostel, before he blows it up, and so save the children. The case brings back memories of another one thirty years earlier when in that case too the subject was beaten by the police of the Apartheid government in almost the identical way.
The one big town in the Kalahari Desert was a quiet place. But in 1994 because the first democratic election was taking place and because the mighty river that flows by the town was coming down in flood it had stopped being a quiet place. Two deluges were facing the town, one political and the other caused by the flooding river.
Adding to the effect of the political deluge was the mob killing of a police officer in the township and the determination of Judge Meyer to find the entire mob guilty of murder for which the sentence is death. Yudel Gordon, in town on prisons business, and Colonel Kobus Malan, the town’s most senior police officer, find themselves struggling to deal with this seemingly impossible situation and a murderer.
Yudel Gordon saw the killing himself. One man, at the centre of an excited mob, did the killing, but only one. Judge Meyer felt increasingly uneasy during the days when it was clear the old Apartheid order was losing power. What kind of an object lesson was it, he asked himself, if a mob kills a policeman, to sentence only one person? How was that going to stop a communist-inspired revolution? Insurrection seemed to be everywhere. If blood was going to run, let it be the blood of revolutionaries, he thought, the more the better.
The case is a recipe for confusion that becomes even more confused when, in the court room, Yudel arranges an example of the problems around the blind acceptance of witness testimony. His demonstration is striking, but Judge Meyer is not amused by the chaos Yudel causes in his courtroom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wessel Ebersohn
• Release date: Sep 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9780639715001

Wessel Ebersohn

Wessel Ebersohn is an internationally published author, whose works have been published and distributed in all English speaking countries on both sides of the Atlantic, and has been translated into many European languages. In the 1980s two of his books were banned by the government of the time, but released on appeal. He was also the editor of Succeed magazine and Debate Journal. In 2013 he won a Pica award as business-to-business writer of the year. He lives with his wife on the edge of the South African bushveld.

Book preview

DELUGE

A novel

by Wessel Ebersohn

For Elizabeth, who is always such a sturdy support, and for her grandsons, Akani and Amu, who are such a riot.

The characters in this novel are all products of the writer’s imagination. They are not intended to resemble any person, living or dead. Some incidents have been inspired by actual events, but none are based on historical accounts.

Published in 2022 by Gold City Publishing

© Wessel Ebersohn

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be preproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronically or digitally, including photocopying and recording or be stored in any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the author. For permission, use the contact form on www.wesselebersohn.com.

ISBN 978-0-6397-1500-1 (e-pub)

Cover Image by Dorothe from Pixabay

Praise for Wessel Ebersohn's Work

"Divide the Night is a powerful book and a well-written one that just happens to fall within the genre of the police procedural." - New York Times Book Review on Divide the Night

This is one of those rare books that can be read on two levels, either as a gripping suspense story set against an exotic background or as a powerful indictment of a repressive, fear-ridden society. - San Diego Books on Divide the Night

There are strong overtones of Faulkner and American southern gothic as Ebersohn, brilliantly evoking South African plantation society, lays bare a family’s secret of incest, rape and haunting guilt. - Washington Post on A Lonely Place to Die

Contents

Unexpected visitors

The desert

The first hour

An unplanned death

The second hour

The coming deluge

The third hour

Return to the desert

The fourth hour

Judge Meyer's court

The fifth hour

Waiting to die

The last hour

Only the River

About the Author

Pretoria, SOUTH AFRICA 2022

UNEXPECTED VISITORS

Yudel had not seen him for more than thirty years. The lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened and given his face more character, and he spoke English better now. He was neatly dressed in an off-the-rack suit, a white shirt and sports club tie. You don’t remember me, Mr Gordon, he said.

Have we met? Yudel asked.

Long ago, in the Northern Cape.

It was not a part of the country of which Yudel had good memories. There was only one possible occasion when they may have met in that province. Yudel looked carefully at his visitor’s face. And yes, slowly, as the overlay of time unravelled, the more youthful faced appeared. He was heavier now, carrying a few extra centimetres around his waist. In those days, he had been nimble, quick on his feet and carried no extra fat. You were the best friend, Yudel said. There was much more he could have added, but he left it there. Of all the men he had known in those parts this was the one he least expected to seek him out so many years later.

I didn’t come to talk about that, he said. I’m a different person now. I’ve been a qualified nurse for twenty years. And I educated myself. I read a lot.

What do you read?

I read books. He looked proud of the fact. The Naked Ape, Think and Grow Rich, all sorts. I even read a Dickens book, a Tale of Two Cities.

You’ve come a long way.

He smiled modestly. It was good to have your efforts recognised.

Yudel remembered the incident that led to his arrest. He wondered if the other man ever did. He could probably not avoid it. No one would be able to. But you could not have done what he had and not ever think about it. That was impossible. But here he was, conservative looking, middle aged and smiling.

I didn’t come here to talk about those days. I try never to think about that anymore. I’m a family man now.

And yet you came to me?

I didn’t know where else to go. I could’ve gone to someone in the HF hospital where I work or my church, but I didn’t want everyone knowing about it. I thought you would be retired by now, but I just took a chance. I remembered you and I remembered what you told me at the time.

Yudel did not know what he was referring to. Some of the conversations between them had been long and no doubt he had said many things. As you say, I am retired now. Correctional Services retrenched me long ago. But they were kind enough to let me stay on, first as a contractor, and now as a part-time consultant.

They should. You were clever even then, as a young man.

Thank you, Yudel said, doing his best to sound as if this sort of praise was an everyday occurrence. Even then I was not that young.

But you were clever. And there are a lot of people who still know you from those days.

Do you remember what I said in court?

Yes, Mr Gordon, I do.

You bear no grudge against me?

No, no grudge. You just told the truth. It was the right thing to do.

Yudel looked at him in wonder. Not many of those found guilty of serious crimes were so ready to forgive the witnesses who testified against them. He wondered who handed out his contact details. He doubted that all views of him from the other man’s home area would have been equally favourable. But he did remember clearly the incident that brought them together, and he was not surprised by anyone wanting to avoid thinking about it. Of the twenty people charged, this was the one man who stood out among the others and he was one of only two against whom Yudel had testified. You are the one I understood least, Yudel said.

That’s okay. I didn’t understand me neither.

Do you ever have contact with the others?

The others? No, never. The police brought us here to the death cells, but you know about all that. And when they released me there was transport to take me home, but I never took it. I never went back, not once.

You never saw the others again?

No, but I had contact with my father and he had contact with them. Sarel, I think you might remember him, Sarel Grootboom, he tried to become a big man in local politics, but the people didn’t want him. Very few voted for him. He died years ago. My father says he was drunk when he died, maybe he fell and hit his head.

Sorghum beer?

No, Mr Gordon, nobody drinks that rubbish anymore.

It had all been long before and the thirty years since then must have changed the town from which the man came. It had certainly changed the country, and the man himself. And me too, I suppose, Yudel thought. I don’t suppose the town looks the same now.

Like I said, I haven’t been back, but my father tells me everything is different. We speak on the phone. He says there’s even a big shopping mall now, proper houses in the township and hotels…

There were hotels in those days.

Two or three. Now there’s ten, maybe more. The only thing that stays the same is the river. My father told me the river is still the same.

Yudel remembered the river. Yes, he thought, the river would still be the same, but he was tiring of small talk about a place he would sooner forget. So, why are you here? You must have a good reason to visit me. What do you think I can do for you after all this time?

"Do you believe in possession?’

By evil spirits? Yudel asked. No, I don’t believe in them. I don’t believe in evil spirits, so therefore I can’t believe they possess anyone.

My wife says I’m possessed.

As an echo of the incident that had brought them together originally, this was an unlikely possibility. This man was clearly the person he remembered, but he was far from the T-shirted youth of those days, rampaging through the streets of that township. Yudel remembered him in the grip of a terrifying conflict, his face – his much younger face – intense, his entire being absorbed by the frightful act he was committing.

Now here he is in his neat suit, white shirt and his soccer club tie, Yudel thought. And he has a wife who says he’s possessed by the devil or his cohorts. What leads your wife to this conclusion?

Sometimes I leave the church before the service is over. I just can’t stay any longer. She says it must be a devil that drives me out.

I see, Yudel said. It was a time-gaining expression he used whether he saw or not.

I’m glad you do. I don’t think you’re a Christian, are you? I think you’re Jewish.

Of the tribe, if not of the religion.

The thought was troubling. You’re not religious?

No.

Not at all?

Not at all. I don’t think that’s important though. Tell me why you can’t stay for the whole service.

It’s the singing.

Choir not much good? Yudel had barely said it before he realised how flippant it sounded. I just mean…

But his visitor was speaking again. We don’t have a choir. We all just sing.

And it disturbs you.

I can’t stay there while everyone is singing. I have to leave. Sometimes I come back for the sermon.

The contents of the sermon, the preacher’s views, that doesn’t disturb you?

No, Mr Gordon, we all believe the same.

Of course you do, Yudel thought.

But I can’t stay in the church, there’s something about the singing that makes me just feel terrible and I have to leave.

Just the singing?

Yes. The rest of the time, I’m fine, during prayers, everything.

Yudel knew there were endless possible reasons for every form of neurotic behaviour. He had never in his career come across anyone who was disturbed by the singing in his church though. He doubted that the words of the hymns would convey a different message to the preacher’s sermons. Sing me one, a favourite, he said.

Now? He looked startled. I don’t sing very well.

I don’t either. Sing me part of one you like, so I get the idea. It may help me to understand you.

His visitor glanced towards the study door. What will Mrs Gordon say?

Don’t worry about her. She’s a music lover.

He grinned nervously. That’s what worries me. Music lovers don’t like my singing.

Go on.

He inhaled deeply, opened his mouth as if to start, closed it again and exhaled. Yudel was still looking expectantly at him, so he inhaled again and started. God is watching us, God is watching us, from a distance… he sang. At least the words were not very troubling. Yudel reflected that most people would prefer that state of affairs. If God was watching, they would rather it be from a distance, the further the better.

From a distance you look like my friend, he sang, even though we are at war. From a distance I just cannot comprehend what all this fighting’s for…

That’s fine, Yudel said.

Was that all right?

A quick knock on the study door was followed by the door opening for just long enough to allow Rosa Gordon a peek inside. Her slightly amused expression revealed some aspect of what she was thinking. I’m sorry, gentlemen, she said. My mistake. Please go ahead with the choir practice. Then she was gone.

Yudel smiled at him. Very nice. You have a pleasant baritone voice. I would like to be able to sing that well. But does singing that hymn disturb you?

No. If I sing that or any other hymn in the shower or somewhere else, it doesn’t bother me at all. Just in church when everyone is singing.

The phone on Yudel’s desk signalled an incoming call. Rosa was on the line. Yudel, you have to come. The police are here. They need you.

Give me a moment, Yudel said to his visitor.

Rosa had let two police officers into the hallway. Yudel thought he recognised the senior one from past contacts with the detective branch. He was wearing plain clothes. His face was tense and he stood with both feet apart, as if for greater stability. Mr Gordon… he started.

Gentlemen, Yudel said in greeting.

The policemen probably had a far clearer recollection of him. He had dealt with many police officers in his career, but they had probably not had many dealings with eccentric prison psychologists who had difficulty confining themselves to their own territories.

Both officers were looking intently at him, as if assessing him, perhaps remembering past contacts that he for the moment could not place. When he passed his seventieth birthday his memory had stopped being the perfect instrument it had been in earlier years. All he remembered with real clarity now were the problems of his patients and the clients he was still seeing in the prison system.

To the police officers Yudel looked tired. His eyes were strained, redlined, the result of continual reading printed matter or studying material on his computer screen. He was lean, shorter than average, and slightly stooped. His uncontrollable fuzz of hair was almost completely grey.

I’m sorry to bother you, Sir, the older of the officers said, I’m Captain Mahlongo and this is Lieutenant Moyo. Yudel shook both hands. The lieutenant was in uniform. The top button of his shirt was missing and his tie knot twisted. It looked to Yudel like someone had him by the throat not long before. I know this is not a working day for you, Mr Gordon, but we need your help urgently. We have an unconscious suspect. We have to wake him up immediately to continue questioning him. Can you come?

Yudel looked from one to the other. The lieutenant was staring at him with what Yudel thought might be hostility. An unconscious suspect? he thought. He wondered briefly how the suspect had been rendered unconscious. If he gauged the matter correctly, these officers were preparing to entrust a man they did not know well, himself, with something that it seemed could turn out badly for both of them. Before he could ask, the captain continued, This is extremely urgent. We need to explain on the way.

You know I’m not a doctor.

Yes, but our boss said you do this sort of thing and you know about police problems.

Let’s hope tonight’s problem is not too severe, Yudel thought. Give me a moment. He returned to the man who struggled to sing in church.

His visitor was on his feet. I’m sorry, Yudel said. We’ll have to continue later. We’ll make an appointment. The police need me. Whatever the police wanted it was bound to be a lot more interesting than hymn singing problems.

But… He was clearly distressed at the thought.

Yudel took one of his hands in his. But in the meantime, know this: you are not possessed by anything. We will look into your problem at our next meeting. Perhaps you should stay home from church until we do. Tell your wife I say she should not be concerned. Tell her there are definitely no devils inside you. And tell her I think her husband sings very nicely.

Oh, thank you, thank you. He was backing into the hall. He had not considered that, as Yudel did not believe in devils, his assurances that none resided inside him might be no comfort to his wife.

Tell her also that we will sort everything out so that you can sing in church again. I promise you that.

I’ll tell her. And thank you again.

He left and Yudel scratched through a badly organised filing cabinet for the small medical case he rarely used. He found it and was starting towards the door when Captain Mahlongo appeared. Mr Gordon…

I’m coming, I’m coming.

Young Lieutenant Moyo was right behind his captain. He looked at Yudel. A coat, Mr Gordon. What about a coat? It’s very cold out.

Yudel grabbed a coat from the rack inside the front door. Let me help you with it, the lieutenant said.The lieutenant helped Yudel into his coat.

Rosa was close by. You’re a nice young man, she told him.

Thank you, Ma’am, he said modestly.

Let’s go, Captain Mahlongo said.

Keep your coat on when you’re outside, Rosa instructed.

I’ll see to it, Ma’am, the lieutenant assured her. He was enjoying his role of being a nice young man. I’ll look after Mr Gordon for you.

And here take my cell phone, Rosa told Yudel. The battery in yours is probably flat. Yudel did not think it was, but Rosa had the testimony of history to back her view. The battery of his phone was usually flat. She slipped hers into his coat pocket.

A pile of building sand in the driveway, the evidence of a new porch Rosa was having built, had spilled across the footpath. Yudel stumbled on it and almost fell. He found the lieutenant taking hold of an arm to steady him. Thank you, Yudel mumbled. Christ, I almost tripped on a little sand. What the hell is wrong with me?

It’s all right, Sir. I help my dad sometimes when he stumbles.

His dad? Yudel thought. Is that how he sees me?

He opened the backdoor of the car for Yudel to get in. Any more of this and I’ll be looking into the price of a wheelchair, Yudel thought.

The lieutenant drove. The captain was in the front passenger seat. So, the suspect is unconscious. What happened to him? This was how I first got involved with that Northern Cape matter, he thought. On that occasion too a suspect was no longer in the best of health. At least, that time they were not expecting me to wake him, Yudel thought. Perhaps it’s time to tell me what this is all about.

He saw the lieutenant glance at the captain and the senior man take a deep breath. Don’t you just want to see him?

I’ll be seeing him, of course. But in the meantime, tell me how he got to be that way. His earlier meeting and the distant events of which his visitor had been the centre had drifted back into the past where they belonged.

South Africa 1989

THE DESERT

The river was the centre of everything. Yudel saw it before he saw the town, a brown strip, punctuated by the occasional darker pool. It followed an irregular path across the surface of the desert. The town came later, up against the river, spreading over it onto the islands where the water split into separate channels. Along both banks the vineyards were arranged in neat lines, parallel to the water. Summer was coming and the new leaves on the vines were a bright green against the amber of the desert floor.

As the aircraft circled, the prison complex came into view. One of the larger prisons in the province and one of only three rated maximum security, it was up against the township. General Brink, the department head, had told Yudel to get down there and make sure the police don’t drop anything on us again. I don’t want that suspect appearing in court beaten up, then have everyone looking at us and the newspapers writing shit about what we do to inmates.

A prisoner in doubtful shape was not the department’s only concern. The prison’s capacity of eight hundred was being stretched to accommodate over a thousand. It was not the worst prison overcrowding in the country, but also not a useful situation. And it was likely to get worse. With summer approaching, the incidence of robberies was likely to increase. Relatively few inmates were close to being paroled and no extension to the prison was in the planning stage yet.

Four female inmates had babies that were within months of turning two, at which time they would have to be removed from the prison. A fifth was in her last semester of pregnancy. So far the social welfare department had shown no enthusiasm for taking responsibility for any of them. Yudel hoped he would not have to deal with them.

The prison’s infrastructure was also less than perfect. There was no intercom system which meant that a problem in one section of the prison only became known to the others when it reached crisis proportions. If inmates prevented one of the guards reaching the control room of his row and its alarm button, that would be his tough luck. All he could do was yell, fight back and pray.

In addition, the township which bordered the prison had been in a state of turmoil for years. In the unlikely event of rioters spilling out of the township and into the prison, anything could happen. Of more immediate concern was that most warders lived in the township and General Brink was concerned for their safety. I’d like to get them out of there, but what will I do with them? he had asked Yudel. I’ve got no other place for them. And I’m not going to ask permission to accommodate them in town, that’s ridiculous. If I did, do you know what that would cost? It’s not in the budget. Our Bantu warders will have to tough it out.

And their families, Yudel had said.

Yes, and their families, the general