The man, though he was barely old enough to warrant that description, had pointed at Lindi and asked what the white woman was doing. Khethiwe broke into Zulu, saying the stupid woman was standing on the roadside looking for a lift and if Khethiwe hadn’t picked her up she would have got a lot more than a lift. They’d both laughed, the joke on white people and their stupidity.

Once they entered Johannesburg, there was a strong sense that all was returning to normal. A city that had been knocked off its stride earlier in the week was back doing what it did best, making money. The spasm of xenophobia that had seen tens of thousands of Mozambicans fleeing for their lives was conveniently being forgotten, the newsstand photos of the Ponte building on fire were fading and the taxi drivers were, once again, vying for pole position on the commuter run to Braamfontein, Rosebank, Sandton, Randburg and beyond.

Anonymity, that great gift of the city, was just what they were looking for.

They decided to lose themselves in the hustle and bustle of Joubert Park till it was time for Lindi and Khethiwe to head for old Sophiatown. Kagiso stepped out of the back of the van, squinting into the winter sun, and stretched. Lindi slipped her hand under the tail of his shirt, which was now hanging loose.

‘And how were things back in economy class?’ she asked, stroking his back. Kagiso saw Khethiwe’s disapproval of this open display of affection. He stepped aside and tucked in his shirt.

If Priscilla Motlantshe turned up, the plan was for Lindi to head for the shopping mall at Rosebank where Two-Boy would be waiting at a café. They’d chosen it because it had Wi-Fi and was always full of customers staring at screens. Lindi was to hand over the laptop or whatever Priscilla gave her and head to her rented office. Two-Boy had been confident it would take him just minutes to find whatever Lesedi had on Willemse, assuming there was something to find. Kagiso would head for the flat in Hillbrow and wait for Two-Boy’s call. If Lesedi’s story stood up, Kagiso planned to phone Lindi with the details and she would alert SABC, the BBC and Anton. He’d join her later and they’d hold a press conference – the two of them side by side.

‘So, let’s get some breakfast,’ Lindi said.

‘I’m going to wait here,’ Khethiwe said. ‘Let the driver come with you. He can bring something for me. Put plenty of sugar in my tea,’ she said, smiling at Lindi. They’d stopped for a snack the previous night and Lindi’s dietary fastidiousness had been the source of some mirth.