BOOK EXCERPT: Scorpio Rising — The latest thriller from SA’s master of crime fiction

From bestselling South African crime fiction author Deon Meyer comes a thriller that perilously entwines local and international threats.

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When Detective Benny Griessel is assigned the case of a private eye crushed under a BMW in his garage, it looks a lot like suicide. But Benny’s partner, Vaughn Cupido, knew the deceased, and he says it’s murder. Then a caravan explodes on a nearby farm, and the identity of the body inside drives the media into a feeding frenzy just a week before an international security forum comes to town. 

Suddenly, Griessel and Cupido’s dead-end cases are burning red-hot, and the flames threaten not just their careers, but those dearest to them. Here is an excerpt from Scorpio Rising.

***

Griessel walked briskly into the pharmacy in the Kloof Street shopping centre, just before six in the evening.

The place was full. Busy. He sighed, stood in one of the long lines of customers waiting to talk to the pharmacist.

None of the queues was moving. His heart sank.

Thoughts drifting, he looked down at his new white Nikes. His wife Alexa had bought them for him, a gift. This morning she had looked him up and down. “Oh, that looks cute,” she said in her hoarse flu-ish voice. “Sexy.”

Sexy. He let the comment pass. He thought the trainers were wrong for a man of his age. Also horribly conspicuous along with his brown Jonsson Workwear trousers, light-blue collared shirt and dark-blue jacket. They drew attention to themselves, to him. Which he did not want. But what can you do when your wife commands it?

He scanned the queue again. No movement. He became aware of that pharmacy aroma, a familiar blend of pills and perfume. Elevator music played softly. Half of the waiting customers were glued to their phones to pass the time. Others were in quiet conversation against a cacophony of sniffling and coughing. Springtime. Hay-fever and flu season. He couldn’t afford to get sick now, there was a desk full of case dockets waiting for him tomorrow.

Something in his peripheral vision drew his attention, brought his thoughts back to the here and now.

It took a moment to shift gears, change focus, survey the store more thoroughly.

The man at the window. Something not right.

Griessel looked closely at him. He was standing with his back to the shop’s interior, all his focus was outward. Black running shoes, blue jeans, thick black windbreaker – too thick for today’s mild temperature. Blue beanie pulled low on his head. Left hand gripping a cellphone, right hand in the jacket pocket. He was tall, one point nine metres perhaps, broad back, reasonably athletic, mid-thirties. Dark one-day stubble.

His torso held dead still. Tensed. A fine line of perspiration above his eyebrows, below the beanie. A frown, clenched jaw. Jittery fidgeting of the right knee.

As if the man could feel Griessel’s gaze on him, he looked around, then quickly away.

A fraction too fast.

He tipped his head to one side then the other, twitchy stretching of the neck vertebrae, trying to shake out the tension.

What was he staring at, out there?

Griessel looked. Thought. Then realisation: Blue Beanie was staring at the jeweller’s shop across the shopping centre aisle.

He felt the surge of adrenaline, looked more carefully at the bulge of the windbreaker where Blue Beanie’s hand was hidden.

A handgun?

His pulse accelerated as he ran possible scenarios through his mind. There would be more. Outside. Waiting. At least one, more likely two or three. Griessel checked his watch.

Five to six. They were waiting for the jeweller’s closing time. The phone in his hand: Blue Beanie was waiting for a text message. Or a call.

The nearest police station was Cape Town Central, way down in Buitenkant Street.

Griessel knew even if he phoned straight away they wouldn’t make it in time.

He would have to do something. But very carefully, with so many people around, here inside and also out there. Slowly, Griessel slid his hand under his jacket, reaching for his service pistol, to the right, on his belt. He left the queue, walked slowly up to the man. Stood beside him.

He saw the sweat beading the upper lip. And on his neck just below the right ear, a tattoo. Only the head and neck of the crow were showing. He recognised the symbol immediately. Blue Beanie was a member of the Restless Ravens, once a key gang on the Cape Flats.

“My name is Benny,” said Griessel.

“Fokkof,” said Blue Beanie under his breath, without looking at him.

“I thought the Ravens were history, a long time ago already.”

“Fokkof.”

Griessel kept his voice friendly, easy. “I’m a detective. Warrant Officer. In Stellenbosch. I have my hand on my Z88. Nine mil para, fifteen in the magazine.” No response.

“I think you’ve got a pipe of your own in your pocket,” said Griessel. “Trouble is, if you and I start shooting, people are going to get hurt. Things could get ugly.”

Blue Beanie stood stock still. Tight as a wire.

“My wife is very sick,” said Griessel. “All I want is to pick up her medicine and go home. If I arrest you now, I’ll only get home to her at ten o’clock tonight. What with all the paperwork and stuff. I don’t want that, and neither do you.”

Blue Beanie’s cellphone beeped. Now he looked at Griessel. Intently, weighing him up. DM

Scorpio Rising is published by Pan Macmillan South Africa. It is available at a retail price of about R390.00.

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Books

Scorpio Rising

South African literature

Deon Meyer

Benny Griessel

crime fiction