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Matt.”

Matt closed the door behind him. “Put that shit down, Benny.”

He did not move, could not believe his bad luck. So fucking close.

“Benny!”

The bottle shook, like his whole body. “I can’t help it,” he said quietly. He could not look Joubert in the eyes. The senior superintendent came and stood next to him, took the bottle out of his hand. He let it go reluctantly.

“Give me the cap.”

Solemnly he handed it over.

“Sit, Benny.”

He sat down and Joubert banged the bottle down. He leaned his large body against the desk, legs straight and arms folded.

“What is going on with you?”

What was the use of answering?

“Now you are an abuser of women and a breakfast drinker?”

She had phoned Joubert. To kick him out was not enough—Anna had to humiliate him professionally too.

“Jissis,” he said with feeling.

“Jissis what, Benny?”

“Ah fuck, Matt, what is the use of talking? How does that help? I am a fuck-up. You know it and Anna knows it and I know it. What is there left to say? I’m sorry I’m alive?” He waited for some reaction, but none came. The silence hung in the room, until he had to know whether he would find some sympathy. He looked up carefully to see his commander’s expressionless face. Slowly Joubert narrowed his eyes and a red glow suffused his face. Griessel knew his boss was the hell-in and he retreated. Joubert grabbed him without speaking, jerked him out of the chair by his neck and arm and shoved him towards the door.

“Matt,” he said, “jissis, what now?” He felt the considerable power of the grip.

“Shut up, Benny,” hissed Joubert, and steered him down the stairs, the footfalls loud on the bare surface. Past Mavis and through the entrance hall, Joubert’s hand hard between his shoulders. Then they were outside in the bright sunlight. Never had Joubert been rough with him before. Their shoes crunched over the parking area gravel to the senior superintendent’s car. He said “Matt” again because he could feel pressure in his guts. This mood had never been directed at him before. Joubert did not respond. He jerked open the car door, his big hand pressing the back of Griessel’s neck, shoved him in and slammed the door.

Joubert climbed in at the driver’s side and turned the key. They shot off with screeching tires and this noise seemed to release a flood of anger inside Joubert. “A martyr,” he spat out with total disgust. “I catch you with a fucking bottle in your hand and that is the best you can do? Act the martyr? You drink and hit women and all I see is self-pity. Benny, Jesus Christ, that’s not good enough. In fourteen years, the fourteen fucking years I have worked with you, I have never seen a person so completely fuck-up his life without any help from outside. You should have been a bloody director, but where are you now, Benny? Forty-three and you’re an inspector—with a thirst as big as the Sahara. And you hit your wife and shrug your shoulders and say, ‘I can’t help it, Matt.’ You fucking hit your wife? Where does that come from? Since when?” Joubert’s hands were communicating too and spit sprayed against the windscreen while the engine screamed at high revolutions. “You’re sorry you’re alive?”

They drove towards Voortrekker Road. Griessel stared ahead. He felt the Jack in his hand again, the desire inside.

When it was quiet he said: “It was the first time, last night.”

“The first time? What kind of a fucking excuse is that? Does that make it all right? You are a policeman, Benny. You know that’s no fucking argument. And you’re lying. She says it has been threatening for months. Three weeks ago you shoved her around, but you were too drunk to do it properly. And the children, Benny? What are you doing to them? Your two children who have to see their drunkard of a father come home pissed out of his skull and assault their mother? I should lock you up with the scum, she should lay a fucking charge against you, but all that will achieve is more