Dolly takes the paper cautiously, as if it might be some kind of trap, and tucks it in the pocket of her apron. I assume that’s the last we will hear from her, or from Henryk.

We head back to my unglamorous Peugeot. I notice that someone has traced a message in the dirt on its back window: ‘Clean this fucking car.’

‘In case you’re wondering,’ says Jess, before I can open my mouth, ‘I still think you are in fantasy land, not deep state.’

‘You don’t think it’s suspicious? Strange men hanging around in the dead of night? Deyna claiming to be a builder to the police but having a “security” business, and vanishing right after the accident?’

‘Installing alarms is sort of building work. And loads of people move from rented home to rented home. You are seeing what your trauma wants you to see.’

‘OK, Dr Jess.’

Just as I’m opening the car door, I hear the Nokia’s plinkety ringtone.

‘That’s yours, not mine,’ says Jess. I snatch a quick glance around me. Am I going to be mugged if I take it out here? Nah. All quiet.

The digit sequence on the small screen is unfamiliar, so I can’t be sure if the person on the line is someone I would rather avoid.

‘Hello,’ I say, not revealing my name, in case the caller has misdialled.

‘Mr Peck,’ says a deep South African growl. ‘My name is James Breitner.’

Oh fuck.

‘You and I need to have a chat.’

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Monday, 7 April – 24 days until Election Day

JAMES BREITNER THE SECOND. JIMMY Breitner. The name conjures up myth as much as man. It’s odd how media tycoons seemingly want to be as monstrous as an Orson Welles’ fiction. Darling of the political right, demon of the left. He grew up in the Cape, son of a local farmer and his wife, who were shot dead when they confronted armed robbers. Adopted by his dad’s sister and uncle, he excelled at school, sold the farm at the first opportunity and went to work for a bank. The turning point in his life came when a school friend came to him for a loan for the family business, a local newspaper, the Cape Town Courier. Instead of a bank loan, Breitner used his small inheritance to become a part-owner. He got the news bug, squeezed out his friend, and then mortgaged the Courier to buy another newspaper, then another, then a television station, then network after network, across the world. Today Media Corp reflects and creates popular culture, it builds up and knocks down celebrities, it makes and breaks governments. The myths about Media Corp are extreme. The reality is worse.