The footage was dated for the previous day. It appeared to have been taken in fading light. That and the poor resolution of the images – presumably shot on an old mobile phone – gave the scene an eerie quality, like some amateur horror movie. Whoever was holding the phone was following a group of other men, all wearing beanies pulled right down to their eyes, with their jumpers and jackets lifted over their chins. They were hurrying along a dirt track, the camera bobbing up and down until it veered off the path and settled on a vehicle.

It was a BMW, a four-wheel-drive model. The driver’s side door was wide open. One of the men jumped in and pretended to drive, sound effects and all. The customised zebra-skin seat covers added a touch of Africa to the cold efficiency of Bavarian engineering. The group moved on, walking away from the car and into the bush. Every now and then one of the men would point ahead, like wildlife rangers following a trail of spoor in one of the nearby game parks. The camera pushed in on the first find. A pair of shiny shoes. The gold buckle glinted into the lens, incongruous in this landscape, like some exotic species. A bit further on, the group gathered around another specimen, this time a light-coloured shirt, probably white, it was difficult to tell. But there was no mistaking the red smear on the otherwise pristine material. The man holding the camera was having difficulty getting the shot he wanted. You could hear his voice. (Anton translated the Zulu.) It prompted one of the others to pick up the shirt and hold it up as if he were trying it for size.

Lindi and Anton now knew what was coming. It was like some macabre treasure hunt, except that the clues were not subtle and the prize would not be a surprise.

‘I don’t know if I need to see any more of this,’ Lindi said.

‘You do,’ Anton replied. ‘This is going to show you just how nasty things have got. I couldn’t believe what my friend told me just now. Who are these guys? Why would they be filming all this and then posting it on the web?’ Anton turned back to the screen.

It felt as if the men were now a good distance from where they had found the vehicle. Whoever was at the other end of this trail of designer clothes had obviously tried to run away from his attackers. By the time they found the beige chinos, thrown over a bush as if they had been put out to dry, it was clear this was not just about killing someone, it was about humiliation. The proof was just a few metres on. There was a man’s body, a black man.