A couple of Alsatians came bounding up to the car. Patel ignored them, too. He didn’t get out.

‘And where do you come in, Mr Patel? You just watch it all happen.’

‘I make my money. I pay my staff. The rest, I send it out. What more must I do?’

‘You don’t ask any questions?’

‘Why should I? I know the answer already. This is Africa.’

‘But how does sitting back and watching Motlantshe come here, buy up the land and sell it off to foreigners help?’

‘You think this is Motlantshe? You think he can do all these deals on his own and just keep the money to himself?’ Patel turned the engine off. ‘Ms Seaton, you need to know this whole stinking business goes all the way to the top. Those chaps in Pretoria are getting their cut. Motlantshe is just the deal-maker, the man in the middle.’

‘But the figures are all published.’

‘Oh, yes, they publish the figures they want you to see. The government got all these farms around here for nothing. Why didn’t the farmers shout and scream, eh?’

‘You tell me.’

‘Because our friend Motlantshe went round afterwards and paid them off.’

‘What’s in it for Motlantshe?’

‘The land is not sold outright to the foreign players. It is kept in a holding company, fifty-fifty. Motlantshe gets fifty, the foreigners get fifty.’

‘How do you know all this?’ Lindi probed.

‘Because I make it my business to know. That is how we Indians have survived in Africa. When the money starts rolling in, Motlantshe gives the big boys their share and everyone is happy.’

‘Except the people who get thrown off the land they’ve lived on for generations.’

Patel got out of the car and walked around to Lindi’s side. She had already opened the door but Patel held it for her. ‘Look, Ms Seaton, I know you don’t like people like me. But I deal with Africa as it is, not Africa as it should be. You think I like to send a case of Johnnie Walker to that bastard tonight? But if I don’t, what happens? They find some problem with my papers and then I pay even more. It is okay for Father Petro. He is always talking to God, but I am dealing with men.’

They walked up the few steps to the front door, which opened as they approached. Aadashini Patel had been waiting for them. She pressed her palms together and raised them.

‘This is my wife,’ Patel introduced them. ‘Ms Seaton is visiting for a few days.’

‘I’m sorry to barge in on you like this. And I’ve come empty-handed, too.’