Mr Zwane’s funeral is a big opulent occasion. There are people of all races in attendance — all of their lives affected in a positive way by Mr Zwane. There are even high-ranking politicians in attendance. Everyone who steps up to the podium reiterates the good qualities of Mr Zwane. His employees look on in utter loss, knowing deep down that things won’t be the same now that their boss is gone.

There isn’t a dry eye in the crowd when Mr Zwane’s right-hand man, Mr Ntuli, lists everything the deceased did for the community of Msinga.

“Mr Zwane offered bursaries. His companies had a monthly budget for sending food to orphanages. He looked after poor households, with a special interest in child-headed households. We hope this good work continues in his absence because Mr Zwane, through his donations, has uplifted many young people to be functioning members of society and leaders of industries. He has given hope to all of his 3500 employees in his various companies,” says Mr Ntuli.

It is a dignified send-off for a dignified man. At the cemetery, as people get in their cars to leave, Nkosinathi pulls Mr Ntuli aside.

“I want a meeting with all the employees at 8am on Monday morning. We have to discuss a lot of things because I am in charge now. There are a lot of changes that need to happen,” says Nkosinathi.

“Where will this meeting be held?” says Mr Ntuli.

“At the head office in town,” says Nkosinathi.

“I don’t think it will be possible in the head office in town, Nkosinathi, because—”

“First of all, you need to show me respect, Ntuli. From now on you address me as Mr Zwane. Secondly, you follow orders,” says Nkosinathi.

“My apologies. Well, Mr Zwane, it won’t be possible to have all the employees at the office at once. For one thing, we have the shuttle business to the airport in Durban and it is busiest in the morning. Our manufacturing plants also operate 24 hours and need to be productive in the morning. We have our delivery trucks as well. I suggest you go to the various companies and schedule meetings with the staff at times that won’t hamper productivity,” says Mr Ntuli.

“No, Ntuli. You will do as I say. I don’t care about all these things you are telling me. If I say there is a meeting on Monday morning, then there is a meeting on Monday morning. You will follow my orders otherwise I’ll fire you! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mr Zwane,” says Mr Ntuli sheepishly.

Nkosinathi is standing next to his late father’s Mercedes-Benz SUV, looking on as people drive away from the cemetery. He is smoking a cigarette, feeling happy that he has put Mr Ntuli in his place.

“We meet again, Nkosinathi Philip Zwane,” says a voice behind him.

Nkosinathi has heard this voice before but can’t remember exactly where. He knows that only a few people know his middle name. Anger is already cast on his face because he despises his middle name. Anger suddenly multiplies when he turns round, because standing behind him is Detective Mlaba, along with four constables.

“Oh, it’s you again! What the hell do you want from me?” says Nkosinathi.

“It’s funny you ask that, Nkosinathi. I want the truth,” says Detective Mlaba.

“What kind of truth do you want? What more truth could there be besides what you discovered at the crime scene?”

“You need to come with us to the station and give us a statement telling us this truth you speak of,” says Detective Mlaba.

“I’m doing no such thing. Do you mean I should leave my father’s funeral right now? I’m tired of you and your questions. Just do your job and leave my family alone!”

Nkosinathi throws away his cigarette and takes out the car keys from his trouser pocket. He turns, heading for the car door.

“Look at me, Nkosinathi. Waiting until you buried your father was just a courtesy. You are under arrest for masterminding the theft of your father’s trucks and taxis!”

By the time Nkosinathi turns again, the constables are already on him. He is handcuffed and led to the police van. He digs in his heels as he is about to be led into the back of the van.

“Don’t make this harder than it is!” says Detective Mlaba.

“Wait! Let me call my mom. I need to tell her about this and then we can go. I need her to know what is going on. I don’t want her to think I abandoned her in her time of need,” says Nkosinathi.

He is making this plea because he knows MaMbhele will not allow this arrest to happen. She has paid bribes before to get him out of trouble. She has fought many battles for him in his life.

“No, Nkosinathi. You are coming with us. My colleagues will tell your mother about your arrest,” says Detective Mlaba, looking straight into Nkosinathi’s jumpy eyes.

Tell us: Do you think Nkosinathi will manage to get out of this sticky situation, as he has in the past?