The Wilby Conspiracy Page #2

- Gangrene doesn't hurt?|- No, gangrene smells.

Keep moving your fingers.

They always put them on too tight!

On purpose.

Pull over to the next clump of bushes.

- Now?|- Yes.

My bladder has not been the same|since the electric therapy.

- Electric what?|- Therapy.

When they caught me,|I had many names they wanted...

...so they wired my balls to a storage|battery and switched on the current.

I gave them all the names|they already had and one they didn't.

Jesus.

That's the one.

All my fingers are numb,|I can't undo my zip.

- I beg your pardon?|- There's no time to think it over.

Now what?

You know now what.

Take up the slack.

Go!

Show me your hands.

Are you a brave male Bantu?

- Have I got a choice?|- Yes, of course you have.

Either the cuffs come off tonight...

...or the hands tomorrow.

You are the only judge of how fast|and how deep to go.

I suppose I ought to thank you.

It's a pleasure.

From now on you can take care|of your own business.

Force my gate.

Break into my shop.

Well...

...what was it?

Murder, rape, robbery?

Political.

You'll have to do better than that.

And you, what's your part in this?

Now, you're not gonna believe this,|but his lawyer is my girlfriend...

...and he was on trial this morning,|and I went to take his lawyer to lunch...

...but he was found not guilty.|So she said:

"Let's all of us go to my office, because|there's a bottle of champagne there, and..."

You don't believe this, do you?

I don't know whether to shoot you|or call the police.

You'd better shoot me.

I am not going back to Robben Island.|I walk out that door free or feet first.

I'm neutral.

Thank you very much.

Just don't tell them it was me|that helped you when they catch you.

- I hope you mean "if."|- I mean "when." They always do.

Mrs. Van Niekirk, you mustn't blame me|for being apprehensive.

I mean, you were boarding|an international flight.

Now, who were you planning to visit|in Rhodesia? Mr. Keogh?

My aunt.

May I get dressed now?

- Mr. Keogh, he's a mining engineer?|- Yes.

- Working in Zambia?|- Yes.

- You met him eight days ago?|- Yes.

- What was he doing in Capetown?|- Was? Has he gone?

Alrighty.

What is he doing in Capetown?

On holiday. Enjoying sun,|surf and our colorful folk ways.

Were you carrying any evidence|out of the country?

I told you I was not.

- Not carrying or not out of the country?|- Neither, and I want this stopped.

I'm not on trial here.

I've been questioned half the night...

...and medically examined|in a humiliating manner.

It was a routine body search.

I found nothing unusual concealed|upon nor within her person.

Doctor...

...is it medically possible that this|examination may not have been complete?

- Possibly, yes, but I believe that...|- Your beliefs are not required, doctor.

If the examination was incomplete,|Maj. Horn now authorizes another.

- A more thorough examination.|- Thank you, Van.

We're coming into a town,|better get on the floor.

It's all right. A salesman and his houseboy|on the road, nobody get suspicious.

By traveling together|we make each other respectable.

This man in Johannesburg who's supposed|to be helping us, who is he?

- I can't tell you that.|- Why the hell not?

Because if you are caught they would|get it out of you, and that wouldn't do.

He runs our escape route|up north to Botswana.

Who's "our"?

- The Black Congress.|- The Black Congress?

That sounds like a very small shop|with a very large sign.

Aren't they all, in the beginning?

What makes you so sure|about this man in Johannesburg?

He owes me a big favor.

When they took me|I did not give them his name.

Ten years ago?

He could be killed or jailed by now.|You're expecting a lot.

Not expecting, hoping.

But you're not sure?

About as sure as our hiding|at Rina's flat.

- Her ex-husband has reason to turn you in.|- Or do me in.

She said he's very violent.|That's the reason she's divorcing him.

She's not had much luck.|First him and now you.

When we get to Johannesburg, what?

Prison grapevine says|we're getting people through safely.

As safe as it was when you got caught?

Someone informed. They were waiting.|My luck was bad.

But Wilby Xaba got safely to Botswana.

Wilby Xaba. He's the top dog|of your bloody radical party, isn't he?

I would phrase it differently,|the Black Congress Party.

And Mr. Wilby Xaba is our chairman.

You.

You were the vice chairman.

Shack Twala.

Almighty God,|what am I doing here?

Being watched|by two highway policemen.

Are you in trouble?

Yes.

Smile.

That's what we are here for.

- You going to Jo'burg?|- Yes.

But we're from Capetown.

- Nice and cool down there, eh?|- Oh, yes.

- You on holiday?|- No, I'm a commercial traveler.

- What do you sell?|- Advertising, in radio.

Oh, I like the one for Coca-Cola.|My kid knows every word.

Oh, you mean:

That's right.

Yes, we do very well with that one.

- You do?|- Yes.

- Does he drive for you?|- Yes.

He'll ruin your car. These Kaffirs|can't get motors through their head.

- No?|- You must take hills in lower gear, boy.

But this car, she is automatic.|She has no gears at all.

I mean you put the automatic|into L, that's low.

Can you read?

I can read L.

- He'll ruin it.|- No, I won't.

No, I won't, sir.

- Peter, clean that back windscreen.|- Right, that does it.

Thank you so much. You're very kind.

It's most kind.

Thank you.

Wave at the police helicopter.

Wave at the helicopter.

Eggbeater to Road Runner, anything?

Motorists en route Jo'burg.|Out of water.

Okay, and mention yourself in dispatches.

Bugger off.

his license number.

Capetown 1-4-foxtrot-3-4-double 2.

Let's go.

He's got it in L.

Talking back to that policeman.|You are what is known as a cheeky Kaffir.

That is exactly what I am, Keogh.

For which, please thank the GMS.

The what?

The Gospel Missionary Society.

They sent me to their schools...

...instead of Mark and Luke,|I discovered Marx and Lenin.

From there I had absolutely|no difficulty getting into jail.

Are you a Communist?

Because I read Marx and Lenin?

I also read "Mein Kampf",|the Magna Carta and "Winnie-the-Pooh".

Well, what the bloody hell are you, then?

The most feared species in all Africa,|a Kaffir who cannot be broken.

That's him.

Looks expendable-like, doesn't he?

They all look that way to me, major.

Van...

...probably right.

- What's the matter with you?|- Don't ask.

- Want me to check him out?|- No, no.

I don't want anyone hurt here|on the street.

I want to get close up,|see if they stink of fear.

You got a light?

Car lighter conked out.

You're local, are you?

Capetown.

Commercial traveler?

That's right.

What, ladies' underwear?

- Oh, no, nothing like that.|- Good.

I'd hate for your Kaffir|to handle the merchandise.

Good me, spouting off already,|I haven't had one brandy wine yet.

You ought to give up smoking.

You're absolutely right. I've tried, can't.

- You want a fag?|- No, thank you.

Oh, God...

Mustn't keep you any longer.

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