Free Dark Intent by Brian Reeve

house and tried to kill him. He failed and in the process was wounded. The shoulder needs attention. He’s lost a lot of blood and the wound is already infected.’
    Dhlamini ground his worn teeth, reluctant to implicate himself, thinking about the rage of Inkatha , in particular that of Moses Shozi. ‘I am not a doctor,’ he said, hoping to drive Ngwenya away.
    ‘But your brother,’ said the guerilla persistently. ‘He’s the man who can help us.’
    Dhlamini twitched uneasily. ‘I have medicine here and bandages. Take this.’ He shot eagerly over the linoleum to a cupboard above the fridge.
    ‘ No.’ Ngwenya was insistent. ‘He has to have professional care. Nothing less will do.’
    Dhlamini was already poking in the cabinet. He closed it. ‘Is he so bad?’
    ‘He will die unless the bullet is removed. He is our brother, one who has sacrificed years of his life for the struggle. No wife, no children, no home. Everything was done for people who’ve suffered years under oppression. Are you so selfish that you can’t give this little bit of help?’
    Dhlamini knew the guerilla wouldn’t back off. ‘Tell me where you are and return. I’ll do what I can to get the doctor. But he’s a busy man.’
    ‘We’re up on the hill in the grass. We’ll see you. I’m sure you won’t let us down.’ Ngwenya left the house and was soon lost among the shacks.
    Dhlamini saw him go then joined his wife in the living room, where she sat stone-faced, playing with a string of beads round her neck.
    ‘Ngubane tried to kill Shozi and was badly hurt,’ he said from the doorway. ‘He’s in the grass. They want my brother to help him.’
    ‘Is Shozi dead?’ she asked, voicing her main concern.
    ‘The attempt was unsuccessful. The man was unscathed. He’s still alive.’
    She beat her hands together. ‘How can they make a mistake like that,’ she cried. ‘Why couldn’t they have made sure? He’ll destroy the township looking for them. You’ll die.’ She wept.
    ‘Shozi won’t associate us with Ngubane,’ said Dhlamini, trying to be positive. ‘No one knew they were staying in my room.’
    ‘No one?’ she replied incredulously. ‘You yourself have said that his spies are everywhere. There’re few ANC guerillas in these valleys, men with the audacity to break into an Inkatha warlord’s house and try and kill him.’
    ‘You’re being pessimistic,’ he said. ‘When Ngubane’s shoulder is patched up they’ll be gone. I’m going to my brother.’              Dhlamini let himself out and headed for the north of the township, keen to see his brother and finish with the three Xhosas.
    The doctor lived in a house similar in design and construction to Dhlamini’s, in keeping with his elevated status in the township. Attached and set back from the dirt road was his surgery, a plain brick building comprising a consultation room and a compact four-bed wing for critically ill patients.
    As it was a Sunday , Dhlamini went to the house and rang the bell. The doctor opened it, shabbily dressed and not prepared for visitors, but inviting his brother and friend to pass inside. Dhlamini stayed where he was.
    ‘I’ve an emergency. A colleague needs urgent medical attention. He’s up on the hill.’
    ‘What’s wrong with him?’ asked the doctor. ‘Is it serious? Was he in a fight?’ Many of his patients were the victims of knife and gun wounds.
    Dhlamini took his brother and led him into the hall. ‘The man’s an ANC guerilla and he’s been shot. You’re the only doctor in these parts loyal to the ANC.’
    The doctor spewed out the first question that came to him. ‘Who shot him?’
    ‘Inkatha,’ said Dhlamini, not wanting to scare the doctor off by saying it was the result of an attempt to assassinate Moses Shozi.
    ‘Stay here,’ said the doctor. ‘I’ll get my bag.’
    A minute later the doctor joined the mayor, holding a small case. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘We’ll go through the