The cold was a bitter reminder of the hardships most of South Africa still felt. People had fires in oil drums in front of the shacks. The smoke rose from the drums and into the atmosphere. The air smelt of carbon monoxide and dirt.

Jerome walked passed a man dressed in black bags. The bag man had a rolled cigarette in his mouth. His face was illuminated by the oil drum fire he sat beside. Jerome noticed the man staring at them with a look colder than the night.

“UDF, fuck off.” the man hissed. He spat into the oil drum and continued smoking his cigarette.

Jerome noticed most of the occupied oil drums had eyes solely fixed on them. Jerome reached into his pocket and took the safety off his pistol. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down, boy. They won’t try anything,” David looked at him and tapped his shoulder twice. Jerome put on the safety, but watched the occupants more closely now.

They reached a shack that looked like two caravans fused to form a structure roughly the same size as a typical ANC home. Jerome was impressed. His own home was a single room on the outskirts of his uncle’s compound. It was small, but very private. He liked it.

David knocked on one of the caravan doors.

Knock, knock.

Jerome peered over his shoulder. The occupied oil drums were candles at the altar of this large structure.

“Ja?!” A voice from inside yelled. It was irritated and tired.

“Aren’t they waiting for us?” Jerome enquired.

Knock, knock.

This time there was movement in the house. The door swung open.

“David? Why didn’t you use the knock? There’s protocol, old man,” David shrugged and pushed passed a middle aged woman with a night gown on.

She had rollers in her hair. She had an oriental beauty. She reminded Jerome of the Chinese people at the docks, but her complexion was darker and her eyes were less narrow. The woman looked at him, assessing him from head to toe.

“Are you coming in or not?” she said, her voice betraying no emotion.

Jerome stepped into the house. The woman’s scent was sweet. Jerome got chills. The woman gestured for the two men to sit down. The house was not overly decorated. There were two couches in the right corner in front of a miniature fireplace. In the far left corner, there were kitchen appliances.

Jerome and David sat on the couch closest to the fireplace. It was not burning. The woman joined them on the opposite couch and did not seem bothered by the cold. Her night gown only covered a night dress. She crossed her legs and produced a cigarette and lighter.

“And who are you, laaitie?” she looked at Jerome. Her eyes twinkled suggestively.

“Jerome, ma’am.”

She lit the cigarette and smiled at David.

“Isn’t this mission a bit too important to have a laaitie involved, David?” she asked taking a puff of her cigarette.

“This is the General’s nephew, Norah. I think he can handle himself.”

“If you say so. There hasn’t been a lot of movement at the tower for a couple of days. I think those darkies hate the cold.”

“And the device? Did our Nigerian friends deliver it?”

Norah got up and threw her cigarette into the dead fireplace. She walked slowly to one of the back rooms. She was gone for about two minutes and returned with a shoe box.

“Here it is,” she said as she placed the box on the floor and returned to her seat on the couch.

She lit another cigarette and started humming an unfamiliar tune. Jerome was entranced. This woman was not like the girls at headquarters. She was outspoken, direct.

“Well, go ahead. Look inside,” she declared. David rose from the couch and picked up the box. He opened it and retrieved a tiny black cube. “That’s the device, old man; some kind of transmitter that kills the signal. They said it will deactivate the tower without a lot of fuss.” she took a long puff of the cigarette and killed it in the fireplace. David fiddled with the cube.

“How does it work though?” he enquired.

“You just flick the switch on the side. That’s all.”

“Jerome, come look here.”

“You’re going to let the laaitie do it?”

“Yes. It’s the end of his training. You got a problem with it, Norah?”

“I do, but it’s not my place to disagree. Come, laaitie. Come see how it works.”

Jerome got up from the couch. Norah’s perfume was disorientating. He looked at the cube and at the switch. He nodded.

“So, do you know what to do?” David asked tiredly.

“Yes,”

“You’re sharp, aren’t you, laaitie?” Norah said jeeringly.

“Are we leaving now?” Jerome said, ignoring Norah’s gaze.

***

Tell us: What do you think the device does?