Chapter 3 - The Gathering of Jackals
In the sprawling penthouse boardroom of Van Zyl & Partners overlooking the Sandton skyline, Nomsa Mokoena adjusted her gold Cartier bracelets with practiced elegance. Her tailored silk suit was immaculately pressed, betraying none of the chaos from earlier that morning when an ambulance had wailed down her Bryanston driveway.
Sitting across from her was Sibusiso, sipping twenty-year-old single malt whiskey from a crystal tumbler. His knuckles were slightly swollen, his tailored shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His expression was not one of remorse, but of profound irritation.
"She deliberately threw herself down," Sibusiso said, his voice dripping with venom. "She’s unstable, Advocate Van Zyl. She’s been depressed for months, constantly weeping, threatening self-harm. When I told her this morning that her behavior was traumatizing our four-year-old daughter, she lost control, screamed at me, and hurled herself down the stairs to spite me."
Advocate Pieter Van Zyl, a man who had built a glittering, merciless career shielding Johannesburg’s ultra-wealthy from the consequences of their vices, reviewed the drafted court papers before him.
"The urgent application for interim custody is solid," Van Zyl said smoothly, tapping the fountain pen against his blotter. "We have an affidavit from your private physician stating she was prescribed anti-anxiety medication two months ago. We have sworn statements from two of your domestic workers confirming her 'erratic' temperament. By four o'clock this afternoon, we will have an *ex parte* order granting Sibusiso sole custody of Lerato, accompanied by an order barring Naledi from coming within five hundred meters of the Bryanston estate upon her discharge."
Nomsa smiled, a thin, predatory curving of her lips that I had seen hundreds of times whenever she set out to crush a rival or humiliate a servant.
"And her father?" Nomsa asked dismissively. "The pathetic old man called me screaming like an animal. He threatened our entire family. I want a restraining order against him as well. A destitute pensioner in an old Corolla thinking he can raise his voice to me. It's disgusting."
"Already incorporated into the draft," Van Zyl assured her, sliding the signature page across the mahogany table. "We characterize him as a violent, disgruntled relative from an unstable environment, attempting to extort maintenance money from a prominent family. The judge presiding over the urgent roll today is Judge Maluleke. He owes his appointment to your late husband’s political circle. He will sign the order without batting an eye."
Sibusiso took the pen and signed with a flourish. "Good. Let the useless bitch rot in that hospital bed. Once she realizes she has no daughter, no money, and nowhere to go, she’ll sign the postnuptial settlement I shoved in her face last week. Zero maintenance. Zero equity in the estate. She walks away with the clothes on her back."
Before Van Zyl could gather the signed papers, the double doors of the boardroom swung open without a knock.
Van Zyl’s senior partner, a pale, sweat-drenched man in his late sixties, staggered into the room. He didn't even look at Nomsa or Sibusiso; his frantic gaze remained locked on Van Zyl.
"Pieter," the senior partner choked out, clutching a sheaf of freshly printed legal faxes. "Drop the application. Tear it up right now."
Van Zyl frowned, his arrogant composure instantly curdling. "What are you talking about, Francois? This is a private family matter for our premier corporate client—"
"The urgent court registrar just received an intervening appearance notice," Francois gasped, trembling as he dropped the papers onto the table. "Van Zyl & Partners has just been served with an immediate Conflict of Interest caveat from the High Court Master’s Office. If we file a single document against Naledi Dlamini, the Legal Practice Council will suspend our firm’s license within the hour."
Nomsa rose from her chair, her eyes blazing with fury. "Who dares intimidate this firm? Do you know who we are? My late husband was—"
"Your late husband was an unindicted co-conspirator in State Capture Docket 44/2009!" Francois shouted, losing all composure. "And the man who just entered his appearance as Naledi’s senior legal consultant is Advocate Daniel Khumalo, instructed directly by Sipho Dlamini!"
Sibusiso scoffed, slamming his whiskey glass onto the mahogany. "Sipho? That broke old bastard who lives in a four-room house in Meadowlands? What the hell does he have to do with the Legal Practice Council?"
Francois looked at Sibusiso with an expression of sheer, horrified pity.
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"You idiot," Francois whispered. "Sipho Dlamini didn't retire as a government clerk. He was the Chief Director of Special Operations before the unit was dissolved. Half the High Court bench were junior advocates trained under his direct mentorship. The Deputy Judge President was his law school classmate. And five minutes ago, the National Director of Public Prosecutions officially reinstated his special prosecutorial credentials to lead a resurrected racketeering task force. He is not coming for your divorce, Sibusiso. He is coming for your heads."
***
