Silas Mthimkhulu looked at him for a very long time; something flashed in his eyes, and then he mirthlessly chuckled. ‘Very well then, Chief Inspector,’ he said before holding up his glass. ‘Here’s to your retirement.’

‘To my retirement,’ Spokes said with a nod. ‘You know Emil Coetzee started The Organisation because of Daisy … because of what happened to her.’ Spokes gestured grandly at the room. ‘So in many ways, you owe all of this to her.’ He put on his fedora and walked out of the seat of power.

Kuki

KUKI

The day Kuki was born, 18 April 1937, seemed such an unremarkable day to be born. Little did anyone know then that forty-three years later she would share her birthday with the new country that had risen out of the ashes of the old country where she had been born, and that it would be on her birthday that they would all have to usher in this thing called independence.

Since she had become a wife and a mother, Kuki had successfully managed not to have a fuss made on her birthday. ‘A generous slice of chocolate cake and the two men in my life is all I’ll ever need,’ she would say every year. She threw amazing parties for her beautiful, golden-haired boy. She did wonders for her parents, Emil’s parents, and her friends. The City of Kings was still talking about Beatrice Beit-Beauford’s fortieth, which had taken place three years earlier. Kuki was not averse to other people’s parties; she just did not like it when she was at the centre of things. But now B was determined to throw her a party. A party just for her. A birthday party at that. Such a dreaded thing.

In the past, it had helped that she shared her birthday with Emil. Whenever B started advocating for a party for Kuki, Kuki would rope Emil in, and that would deter B. But Emil was not around now to put a convenient end to B’s plans.

According to Rutherford, Emil had chosen death by misadventure over independence, and the state had in turn chosen to make it seem as if a terrorist – Golide Gumede – had killed Emil. Kuki had not been given a choice; she had been told that, for the good of the country, she needed to accept things as they were, and attend a sham of a funeral – which she had done, much to B’s anger and chagrin. Kuki’s acquiescence had created a rift in their friendship that had been bridged by a very unlikely source – Saskia Hargrave.