Chapter 8: Enter The White Devil

…continued from 17 May 2026...

Stanley was curious when the waitress slipped the envelope to him under his plate, but said nothing, not wanting to alarm his bodyguards unnecessarily. His ego suggested that she probably had a crush on him and wanted a secret meeting. He laughed softly as he opened the envelope. It contained one piece of plain white paper with a short message.

Stanley immediately got up and motioned for his body guards to follow him to the bathroom.

“Wait here, if you hear anything suspicious come in,” he told the bodyguards.

Stanley checked all the stalls and found they were all empty. He lifted the cistern lid of the last cubicle and found a small mobile phone wrapped in plastic water proofing. He took out the phone and dialed the number he had been given.

“This line is secure, said the voice on the other end. My name is Johan Baatjies,” the voice said. Stanley recognised the name immediately; he had always been proud of Mr Baatjies’s achievements.

“Why the cloak and dagger routine Mr Baatjies?” Stanley enquired.

“I have a business proposition for you sir and it is in both of our interests to keep it strictly between ourselves.”

“I’m listening”

“We cannot be seen together. In order to assure you of my good intentions I would like you to suggest a meeting place before sunrise. I will be alone, with my driver, you may have as many of your personnel as you see like. I will require one hour of your time,” said Johan.

Stanley thought fast. Johan heard the silence and waited. “You will hear from me in 15 minutes Mr Baatjies, what car do you drive?”

“A big black Mercedes.”

Stanley advised Johan to go to the Wimpy all-night diner at the Waterfront where he would be asked to accompany someone who would bring him to the meeting place. Ninety minutes later, Johan emerged out of the car and blindfold into a stark room with a single burning light suspended from the ceiling. The room was empty and the floor was bare concrete. The walls were grey and bland, there were no chairs. Johan adjusted his eyes to the glaring light and focused on Stanley on the other side of the room.

Stanley knew that Johan had been searched and that he was unarmed. He was confident that he could take care of himself in a hand-to-hand situation should it come to that. He ordered his body guards to remain outside.

He moved over to Johan hand extended and said: “Please accept my apologies, but you know how it is.”

Johan returned the firm hand shake, “No apologies necessary,”

An hour later Stanley summoned his body guards, instructing the one who had brought Johan to take him back to the diner and to make sure no harm befell him. Stanley took out his mobile phone and dialed Aletta’s number. He told his body guard where to drop him off.

Stanley was certainly intrigued by Johan’s idea. He felt a strong, determined energy from Johan. He knew that he was dealing with someone who meant business and who had given this … well crazy idea… a lot of thought. He wondered if he could achieve the same legitimate business status in the real world as Johan enjoyed. More pressingly though, he wondered if Johan would succeed in mediating the three gang lords into an effective unit. How was he going to ensure no one lost face and everyone gained respect and honour? He knew that Malik Sufyan was a reasonable man, but Whitey Parker, was a low-life, devoid of moral fibre, making a deal with that snake was asking to be butt-fucked!

Whitey Parker got his name while still at school as a young kid. He did not make it to high school. He was tall and powerfully built, his eyes were pale blue, he had short cropped red hair and his was skin distinctly fair. Yet such was the irony of South Africa’s past that Whitey Parker, just like the other two gang bosses, were classified as Coloured.

Whereas Malik Sufyan controlled the Northern Suburbs of the Cape Flats and Stanley held sway over the Southern Suburbs, Whitey ruled the rural communities as far as George and Knysna on the east coast and up to Saldanha Bay on the West coast.

He had a well-earned reputation for being excessively brutal in his dealings. His demeanor was that of an uneducated brute who believed that respect was only gained through fear. His body bore the scars of a severe struggle to the top of his game, having survived many bullet wounds, knifings and even a poisoning attempt.

Whitey was gay, he had no use for women. He mistrusted them intensely and consequently he never allowed women in the same room with him especially when he was doing business with his lieutenants. His lover was a skinny black kid who relished Whitey’s love and affection and could not believe his luck to have found a man, a person who could love him like Whitey did. Whitey’s sexual preference was an open secret which nobody dare mention.

Now in his forties, Whitey was becoming concerned with the Nigerian suppliers. They started off small, but now they were allowing their own people to deal directly to Whitey’s customers. Jamal, his Nigerian supplier, had blamed it on a few undisciplined youths and had promised to “deal” with the situation.

However, things had just gotten worse. In fact, it was rumoured that drugs were entering directly from the Saldanha Bay harbour and that the town was “owned” by the Nigerians.

Jamal would have to be taught a lesson. And Saldanha Bay needed a good shake up and clean out. Whitey enjoyed the violence, he loved the combat, his weapon of choice was the knife, because it was such an intimate option. He particularly enjoyed the moment a life was extinguished and he stared into the victim’s eyes, sometimes he swore he could feel their soul depart the body.

Continued tomorrow 19 May 2026, before 12pm