The Pink Stone

The flat had no furniture in it. Just a folding table in the middle of the lounge and five plastic chairs Loyiso had brought in yesterday. The electricity was working but there were no bulbs in the fittings, like a tik house, so we had two camping lanterns set up on the table. The floor was tiled and the tiles were cold. You could hear the South Easter through the gap under the front door.

Paarden Eiland at three in the morning is quiet. Not quiet like the suburbs, where there are dogs and alarms and someone's pool pump. Quiet like an engine that has been switched off. Every so often a truck went past on Marine Drive and the sound carried through the flat like someone sighing in the next room.

Tommy came in hot and heavy, same as always, with a big grin on his face. Pushing the door open he yelled howzit from the doorway.

“Shut up,” Loyiso said. “How long does it take to check the perimeter?”

The diamonds were already on the table, spread out on a square of black velvet Gina had brought. Busi was standing with her arms crossed, looking at them. She hadn't taken her jacket off, and was still wearing a black beanie. None of us had taken our jackets off except Gina, who was wearing a cream cashmere jumper. A handbag on the chair next to her. Her car keys were still in her hand.

“Everyone here?” she said.

I looked around at their faces. Everyone had big eyes suddenly. Only Tommy was smiling. I could see Gina’s frown lines when she glanced at her phone, and Busi was tapping her foot nervously.

“Everyone's here,” Loyiso said. “Tommy. Shut the door, bra. And lock it.”

Tommy shut the door. He locked it. Then he unlocked it and locked it again because he wasn't sure the first time.

“Don't use names,” said Gina. “We've talked about this.”

“Sorry, Partner,” Loyiso said.

We were supposed to call each other “Partner” instead of using real named. We never got used to it. We tried fake names once, but it got too confusing. I know Tommy from the army and I can’t call that ou anything else. Everyone calls me Flip. Busi reckoned a fake name was pointless for her since she drove an Uber and her real name was right there on the app. Loyiso didn’t seem to mind. He’d already done time, so maybe he had nothing to lose. Gina was the only one who really cared about the rule. I never asked if Gina was her real name or not. Women like having secrets, I guess.

“We do the count,” Gina said. “Then we leave. Separately. I've got the buyer. The money clears in my account and I transfer yours through the channels we agreed. Any problems, you say so now.” She wasn’t looking at anyone directly, her eyes were sort of skirting around the room.

“We know the plan,” Busi said.

“I know you know the plan. I'm saying it again.” Gina had not sat down.

With a beer in one hand, Loyiso did the count. He is the fastest at it. Forty-two stones, just as we planned. A mix of cuts, mostly round brilliants, two fancy yellows, one pink that was smaller than the others but Loyiso said was the most valuable. A Cullinan stone. The museum had been showing it for three weeks. The card next to it had said a number with too many zeros for me to remember. I had been working security there for a few months, so no time to read all the labels. After my first day at the museum I told Charmaine I would get her a diamond. I imagined that small pink one on a simple gold band: the perfect engagement ring. The colour made me think of watermelon. Saai die waatlemoen. That’s an old Afrikaans song my mom used to sing when she was busy in the garden. As Loyiso was flicking the stones across the velvet one rolled towards me. I picked it up, held it between my fingers for a second. Loyiso gave me a long look. I met his eyes, then looked down, moving my hand back to the velvet.

“Okay. All there,” Loyiso said. He was smiling, first time I had ever seen that.

Loyiso got up and looked at all the bottles of beer and whisky Tommy had brought. I rubbed my mouth.

“Good,” said Gina. She took a small pouch out of her handbag and Loyiso slid the stones into it. Gina pulled the drawstring and put the pouch back into the handbag. She zipped the handbag shut with a metallic noise and put it on the chair beside her. I looked at the handbag. Then I looked to see if it matched her boots. She was wearing ankle boots. Leather. Very clean. None of us had changed our shoes. We all ran through the narrow service tunnel that runs under the parking garage. The tunnel has water in it. Not deep, but enough. My boots were wet and Busi's jeans were damp up to the calf. Tommy had taken his shoes off at the door and they were sitting in a puddle of their own. Loyiso also looked at Gina’s boots, then he looked at me. Then he looked at his phone. He clinked beer bottles with Tommy and they downed a whole Black Label each.

“Now for something stronger,” said Loyiso, opening up a bottle of Johnny Walker black.

My head was still buzzing. Nobody was talking about what had happened at the service tunnel. It was a risky way out, she had said, but we had to avoid the cameras. In the end we almost got busted. The cops were metres away, racing towards the circle before the main drag to the service tunnel. We could see the lights but there were no sirens, just screeching tires. We were supposed to meet at the tunnel entrance five minutes after we got there. I guess we are fast runners or someone misjudged the distance. I saw the others running, alongside and behind me, but I didn’t do a head count. No time. I know Loyiso and Tommy were there because they were swearing the whole time. Busi ran into the tunnel towards us, splashing like hell in her jeans and yelling about where to find her car. I have never seen four people jump into an Uber that fast. We couldn’t find Gina, she must have run back to her own car because the next time we saw her was in the flat.

“Signal in here is bad,” Gina said. She stood up, waving her phone in the air. “Ugh. I'm going to step outside for a minute. I have to call the buyer.”

“What you on, Vodacom? Use my phone,” said Tommy.

“I'll just step outside,” Gina said, smiling briefly at Tommy. She was still holding her car keys in one hand. I read somewhere women do that when they think they might be attacked. The sharp keys pointing through your fingers are supposed to make a wicked knuckleduster.

“I need to confirm with the buyer,” Gina said, again. The door closed behind her. Over the sound of the wind we heard her footsteps on the concrete landing. My mama roei die skuitjie… The watermelon song was still going in my head.

“Ah need to con-farm with the bayah,” Busi repeated, waving her hand like a fancy lady.

Loyiso was still looking at his phone. He turned it face down on the table.

“The signal is fine,” he said quietly. “Did anyone see her phone? She’s not using the burner I gave her.”

“Neither am I,” Busi said.

“You don’t have anyone to call, do you?” Loyiso said.

“Exactly,” said Busi, winking.

She reached for the whiskey and took a big sip. She walked to the window. The curtains were not curtains. They were a bedsheet tacked up with drawing pins. She moved the sheet aside with two fingers and looked down into the road. She stood there for a long time. Then she came back to the table.

“Girl obviously never learnt to alley dock,” Busi said. “She has parked us all in.”

“We fucken’ did it, guys!” Tommy blurted out. “Busi, what are you going to do with all your money, huh?”

“Pay my kids’ school fees, T-man,” said Busi, impatiently.

“Me, I’m gonna get a Gusheshe,” said Loyiso.

“The fuck’s that?” Tommy asked.

“BMW 3 Series, bra,” Loyiso replied.

“Not for me,” Tommy said. “I’m going to get my ma a nice place to stay. Somewhere with a room for herself with nurses and a physio.”

“What about you, Flip?” Busi asked. The noise from the wind was making her raise her voice.

I wasn’t listening though. I was thinking about the diamonds, especially the colourful ones. That little pink stone was perfect for a lady. So pretty. I gave Charmaine a rose quartz pendant on a necklace once. It cost me R250. I looked for Gina’s handbag with all the stones in it. It wasn’t on the chair anymore. Outside, on the landing, Gina was speaking on her phone. I could not hear the words. I could not hear if it was English.

“Gina’s hubby is a Russian guy, isn’t he?” Tommy asked.

“Ukrainian,” Loyiso said. “Big difference.”

I stood up. They all looked at me.

“No,” said Busi.

“What?” said Tommy.

Tommy and I looked at Busi. Loyiso looked straight ahead.

“The bag,” he said. He was already on his feet. He walked to the door and opened it. The landing was empty. No footsteps. No voice. No Gina. Just the wind pushing down the passage.

“Her car,” Busi said.

We moved to the window. Busi pulled the sheet aside again. The street was empty.

“Fuck,” said Loyiso.

Then, far off, we heard it. Not sirens. Not yet. A car door and then another. Doors closing one by one, and then the sound of a walkie talkie. Here we go. My papa blaas die fluitjie went the song.

“Police,” Busi said.

“Ah, come on, man,” said Tommy. His grin had shifted downwards now, towards his chin.

Loyiso turned to me.

“You saw it,” he said.

I nodded. I couldn’t speak.

“Her boots. She didn’t come through the tunnel,” Loyiso said.

The first knock came at the door. Hard. Nobody moved. The second knock was louder.

“Open up!”

Tommy looked at me. Then at the door.

“So what?” he said.

“She tipped them off, T-man,” Busi said, shaking her head.

“I knew it, I knew it,” said Loyiso.

“What do we do now?” asked Tommy.

No one answered. I pressed my lips together. I thought about the pink stone. Charmaine’s face when I gave her something pretty. I thought about Gina’s dry boots, her foreign husband. The dealer she knows. The bank accounts.

The third knock came.

“Police! Open the door!”

Loyiso laughed then, but not a happy laugh.

“Eish,” he said.

Busi sat down. She sighed deeply, then reached for the whiskey bottle and cradled it.

“Come sit by me, Flip,” Busi patted the tiled floor next to her. “We’ll all go down together.” I sat. Almost immediately my arse was freezing.

Tommy was shaking his head.

“Sorry, Partners,” Loyiso said. “We have no choice now.” He walked to the door and stood there for a second. Then he unlocked it. The door opened hard. Two officers came in first, then more behind them. Torches in our faces.

“Hands where we can see them!”

We did as we were told. They moved fast. Around the room. Into the kitchen. Down the passage.

“Where are the diamonds?” one of them asked.

No one answered.

“Ask your friend,” Busi said quietly. “Go ask Gina.”

The officer looked at Busi and paused.

“Who?” she said.

Busi laughed once. “Ja. Okay.”

The room was basically empty but they searched it anyway. They scanned the floor, walls, ceilings. They searched the windowsills, the sink and the cupboards. They searched our pockets, our shoes, Busi’s bag. One of them picked up an empty beer bottle and put it down again. Nothing. Of course.

I took the whiskey from Busi. My hand was steady. I took a sip. The stone sat under my tongue. Small and hard. Like a pip. No one was looking at me.

I heard the old song again: Spoeg die pitte uit. No. Not this time.

Outside, I could hear more cars. Doors opening and closing. The wind over and above it all. Loyiso was staring at the floor. Tommy was still shaking his head. Busi was watching the police like she was memorising their faces. I looked at the door. Gina was long gone. I moved the stone with my tongue, careful.

The pink one.

The most valuable.

I swallowed.