Free Random Violence by Jassy Mackenzie

didn’t know, so she continued. “They didn’t hesitate to shoot. And they weren’t working alone. I think there was a car waiting for them. When the office went up, the driver cleared out fast. I’ll ask the shopkeeper if he saw anything. There’s no sign of Grobbelaar. Just a pair of abandoned shoes inside his door.”
    She heard David tapping away on a keyboard. “You said the guy who ran away was injured. Burned, do you think?”
    “No. Too much blood. My guess is he has a bullet in his leg, courtesy of his friend’s second stray gunshot. Can you notify the hospitals if I give you a description? I’m sure those guys will have a record. Racially motivated violent crime would be my guess.”
    David sighed heavily. “Will do. But he won’t risk going to a hospital, not with firearm injuries. He’ll go to a sangoma, a witch-doctor. God knows what treatment he’ll receive. Herbs, muti, purging. Maybe he’ll survive, maybe he’ll get an infec-tion and die.” His voice sounded flat, as if he didn’t care either way. “That’s the risk they run.” He added something else but Jade couldn’t hear him because his voice was drowned out by the blare of approaching sirens.

10
    While they watched black smoke belching from the building, the shopkeeper told Jade that yes, he had seen another vehicle arrive shortly before he heard the gunshots. The car had driven past the shop and parked in the corner.
    “A black Mercedes, with dark windows,” he said. He couldn’t tell her what model it was and he hadn’t seen any number plates. He thought perhaps the car had no plates. When she told him the police were on their way, the shop-keeper closed his business for the day and left.
    “I am from Zimbabwe,” he told her, slightly shamefaced. “My identity document, it is not original. If the police find me here, they will arrest me and send me back home.”
    Jade couldn’t argue with his logic. She wasn’t about to hand the man over to the cops after his intervention had saved her life. She wished him well and watched him walk down the road, glancing back at the smoldering office as if he couldn’t believe what had happened.

    In its tranquil country setting, Annette’s house seemed a world away from the fiery crime scene she had left behind. She’d had to stop on the way to buy some new shoes. The old ones stank of gas and gave her the uncomfortable feeling that a carelessly dropped cigarette butt would turn her into a human torch.
    She was greeted by silence when she arrived at the gate. A brand-new white Lexus was parked next to the little Golf she remembered seeing there previously. Another car, towing a trailer, was turning to leave. The trailer had a logo painted on the side: Animal Anti-Cruelty League.
    Piet was talking to the driver. When he saw her, he fumbled in his pockets for the gate key. Jade watched him pat each pocket with increasing alarm until he turned and saw he’d left the keys on the hood of the Golf. He hurried over and retrieved them. This time all he had to do was press a remote control and the motor whirred into action.
    “I had it fixed today. The gate man came here earlier on,” Piet said after she’d got out of her car. He looked calmer than when she had last seen him. “The lady from the Star news-paper was here yesterday. I feel I’m making real progress.” He squeezed her arm. “Oh, and she passed my number on to a restaurant. I’ve just had a commission to do a wall painting for them.”
    Jade sighed. Piet’s newly discovered celebrity status was an unwelcome development.
    “And the dogs?”
    “They’re in the trailer. They’re going to a woman who lives on a smallholding north of here. I couldn’t keep them, Jade. They didn’t respect me. I’ve been bitten twice. I was worried they would turn on me as a pack.”
    “Who else is here?” Jade glanced at the Lexus.
    “Oh. A guy called Graham Hope just arrived. He’s the person who originally sold this land to