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officers at the gate. They stepped back and Williams picked his way over the rough ground towards them.
    ‘Faizal.’
    ‘Hond,’ said Riedwaan.
    ‘Mr Williams to you, Captain.’ Hands in his pockets. ‘The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides.’
    ‘Ezekiel 25:17,’ said Riedwaan. ‘Don’t give me that Morgan Freeman kak again. Watch another movie. Scarface or Deliverance or The Lion King . Anything but Pulp Fiction .’
    Riedwaan turned to face Clare. ‘This is Dr Clare Hart.’
    Hond nodded at Clare.
    ‘What’s happening?’ Williams asked, keeping his attention on Riedwaan.
    ‘A body found on site, for starters. Cause of death not yet determined.’
    ‘A poes-dronk bergie,’ said Williams.
    ‘Language,’ said Riedwaan. ‘The lady.’
    ‘Bergies vrek all the time, nobody gives a fuck, constable comes, cleans up the rubbish. So why the sudden disruption?’
    ‘Because human remains have been discoveredon the site, the area is under SAPS control until we know whose they are, and how old they are,’ said Riedwaan. ‘Only then will decisions be made.’
    ‘Fuck, Faizal, where did you learn to talk so larnie?’ said Williams. ‘Jesus, man. This kind of thing happens anywhere you dig in Cape Town. The work here is ready to go.’
    ‘I’m happy to arrest you for interfering with a police operation, Hondjie,’said Riedwaan. ‘Pollsmoor Prison will be glad to have you back.’
    ‘I wouldn’t do that unless you want a lawsuit.’
    ‘Lawsuit,’ said Riedwaan. ‘That’s a big word.’
    ‘Some of us move on in life, Faizal.’ Williams adjusted his jacket. ‘And this is happening on my building site?’ asked Williams. ‘What’s the story?’
    ‘Just that, your building site,’ said Riedwaan. ‘You’re a bit overdressedfor a bricklayer.’
    Anger flared in Hond’s eyes. Doused instantly.
    ‘Williams and Associates.’ He thrust a card at Riedwaan. ‘Security Director. If you can read.’
    ‘Not going to happen,’ said Riedwaan. He held up the card. ‘No matter how many of these you hand out, you are still fuck-all except bought-and-paid-for muscle.’
    ‘I don’t think you know who you’re fucking with, Faizal.’Williams took off his sunglasses. His eyes were pale brown. Opaque. Not a flicker of emotion in them.
    ‘Who hired you?’ asked Riedwaan.
    ‘Nobody hires me,’ said Williams.
    ‘Okay.’ Riedwaan held his hands up. ‘Who are your partners?’
    ‘Mpumalanga Holdings Corporation,’ said Williams.
    ‘You tell Mpumalanga Holdings then about the discovery of human remains,’ said Riedwaan. ‘Age andorigin as yet to be determined means that nothing will happen until this has been assessed. Heritage laws. This is now an archaeological site, not a building site.’
    ‘Cape Town’s so full of fucking heritage,’ said Hond Williams. ‘You dig, you find someone who was brought here as a slave. Jo’burg – it’s nothing. Someone dies, cops come, open a docket, take away the body. Finished. Here, youfind some old bones and the whole place goes mad. For what? It’s old history. Just move them, or leave them where they are, and we build. Give people some work. Make money. What you want? Who cares about people nobody even knew they’d forgotten?’
    ‘Hey, remember: I’m in charge, Hond.’ Riedwaan stepped closer. ‘So I ask the questions.’
    Williams stood his ground, but his body was tense. Therewas a hardness to Riedwaan’s frame – earned on the street rather than in the gym – that made men much bigger than him take stock, think of a back-up plan.
    ‘We have this little issue of the law,’ Riedwaan continued. ‘Here in Cape Town, we hold onto it still. For what it’s worth.’
    ‘So, what’re you telling me?’
    ‘That these skeletons will need to be exhumed.’
    ‘Look at them, CaptainFaizal,’ said Williams. ‘They’ve been dead two, three hundred years. You want to delay construction for that? We can just cover it over. Put up a