An Ordinary Day Read Online Free Page A

for dis misunderstanding,’ and he glowered at Maistry – evidently the misunderstanding. ‘The Department of Foreign Affairs is most embarrassed at dis … um … delay … please, let me assist Your Excellency in … sorting dis out right now.’
    Cloete’s tone changed immediately as he addressed Maistry.
    ‘Mr Cloete, Acting Assistant Director, DFA . What is de problem here?’
    Maistry looked down at the suitcases and then back up to Cloete. Did he not see the twelve million dollars? ‘Sir – we have foreign currency here, which according to—’
    ‘Young man,’ Cloete said impatiently, ‘the Libyan government has informed us frew a note verbale that they is travelling back by road frew Africa to Libya after de AU .’
    ‘Sir, all foreign currency has to be declared and noted—’
    ‘Obviously there are expenses. The Minister have taken a political decision to allow dis cases frew.’
    ‘I must insist on—’
    ‘Mister?’
    ‘Maistry.’
    ‘Mr Maistry. A ministerial decision have been made, and these people must be now let frew.’
    Maistry nodded without saying a word. His hands trembled with anger as he shut the suitcase. He knew it was futile to argue with an Acting Assistant Director in a black suit who called himself ‘Mister.’ He was also tired and whatever fight he had left in him had all but dissipated the closer he got to the end of his shift. ‘Come through please, next,’ he gestured to the wide-eyed Libyans who’d stared open-mouthed at the preceding events, their attention fixed on the verbal exchange as attentively as though they were watching a tennis match. The cases were quickly locked and Cloete ushered Albirai off to the airport VIP lounge. Bilateral relations would have to be restored over snacks and drinks.
    Maistry felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten, and he turned to Abrahams as the Libyan delegation filed past. ‘That went well,’ she said.
    ‘We haven’t seen the last of this, Judy,’ he said gravely as the three Libyans and their suitcases hurried towards the exit and were ushered into a waiting minibus, which immediately drove off into the late afternoon traffic.

    Durant woke up with an eye-popping headache, his wage for too few hours’ sleep, an overload of stress and too much cheap coffee distilled through his 38-year-old veins. The bedside alarm clock told him that he had climbed into bed just under four hours previously. The African Union meeting in Durban had kept him busy every night instructing agents in various crime syndicates to report on any threats to the delegates or visitors to the event. The biggest problem so far had been delegates and support staff visiting prostitutes in the red-light area and being relieved of their wallets while at play. A number of foreign credit cards were being offered around and Durant was tasking his informants to recover them before too much damage was done.
    Fighting the urge to rebel against his routine of never being late for work, he rolled out of bed and took a minute to orient himself.
    ‘How was work?’ a cheerful voice asked softly, sensitive to Durant’s already delicate condition. He looked up at Stephanie standing beside him, already dressed in a tailored two-piece business suit which highlighted, rather than hid, the fact that she was six months pregnant.
    ‘Fine.’
    ‘C’mon, I need more than that.’
    ‘Okay, great. It was great. And tiring.’
    ‘So no detail?’
    ‘Sorry, love, no detail.’
    ‘I must be happy with fine, great and tiring? You could have been with a girl.’
    Durant shook his head. ‘Nah, I would’ve remembered. No girl.’
    ‘I’m happy with that. Thanks for sharing.’ Stephanie smiled. ‘See you a bit later?’
    ‘Yip. For sure, my babe.’
    Stephanie glanced in the mirror and examined her hair, making a small adjustment to what already appeared a faultless arrangement. ‘I was up early – feeling a bit exhausted, but I’m normally okay by