Night of the Black Bastards (An Action-Packed Thriller) Read Free Page A

the escaping criminal vehicles was hardly apparent and the vehicles were not slowing down.
    The cars were now approaching Sergeant Night’s position and he was readying himself to unload his 12 gauge, and then his holstered 9MM into the following vehicle which he was certain was carrying the gang’s leader. As the lead vehicle came level with Sergeant Night’s location there was an uneasy silence, partly because the Yankee vehicles had to stop firing or risk hitting November Whisky 50, but more so due to something eerie, something Sergeant Night had never experienced before.
    As the lead vehicle drove past Sergeant Night looked into the car and tried as hard as he could to identify any of the men inside the vehicle but for some inexplicable reason all of their faces were blurred purple and black. Before Sergeant Night could process this strange information the second vehicle drew nearer and Sergeant Night raised his weapon, finger on the hair trigger and he prepared to fire, the weapon level with the car’s windows.
    Unexpectedly the vehicle actually slowed down and the rear passenger window lowered and a cruel and twisted laughing face appeared. It was the unmistakable face of a man known throughout South Africa and Johannesburg and more particularly Norwood as uSathane, the isiZulu word for Devil.
    Though in shock, not only at seeing the disfigured and seemingly shifting face of the man, but by actually seeing the notorious crime lord in person, Sergeant Night steadied himself enough to train his weapon on uSathane and he squeezed the trigger, slowly with focus and intent. And “CLICK”, nothing - the worst sound a policeman in South Africa, or any operator anywhere in the world, could ever hear his weapon make during a gun battle.
    A failure to fire.
    uSathane seemed to enjoy this and started to laugh even harder. He then stopped laughing looked directly into the eyes of Sergeant Night and said “Nye usuku ngi bulala wena kahle umlungu!” -- Zulu for “Another day I will kill you slowly white man.”
    With that, real time seemed to return to Sergeant Night’s senses and the two vehicles carrying uSathane and his men disappeared down Louis Botha Avenue towards Alexandra Township. 
    The gunfight was far from over yet as the suiciders had commenced their kamikaze attack on the Yankee and Norwood police officers, the Yankee boys bearing the brunt of the four man onslaught.
    Sergeant Snyman was a veteran of the Johannesburg Flying Squad and knew how to handle himself in a fire fight. Unfortunately Provincial Headquarters had decided to place two rookies in the vehicles under Sergeant Snyman’s command that day. Headquarters’ thinking was to throw the rookies in the deep end so that they learnt quickly. Sergeant Snyman now wondered if he could get them out alive.
    The suiciders had rounded on the two Yankee vehicles and were directing all their fire at them. Sergeant Snyman had carefully positioned himself behind the front right wheel and engine block of his vehicle along with his driver as had his more experienced officers behind their vehicle. All were pinned down by the incoming AK rounds but weren’t too worried as they knew Sergeant Night and his men would flank their enemy.
    The rookies however were both taking cover behind the open back doors of their vehicles and were attempting to take on the suiciders with their 9MM pistols. The first greenhorn didn’t even manage to get a single shot off before he took multiple rounds blasting holes through his face. He dropped to the floor without a whimper.
    By this time Constable Stanislov had moved position, taken a better sniping situation by lying flat on the roof of a people carrier parked inside the lot and had managed to acquire the head of one of the suiciders in his sights. He took a half breath and squeezed the trigger, slowly with focus and intent, this time double tapping his enemy. He didn’t see the rounds make impact but he did notice a small spray of