Chapter 3 — Adderley

The man had been following her for three streets now.
Nomsa knew without looking — the reflection in the Clicks window confirmed it. Same grey jacket. Same unhurried pace. She tightened her grip on her bag and turned onto Adderley Street, where the lunchtime crowd thickened and the smell of koeksisters from a street cart cut through the exhaust.
She pulled out her phone. Dialled.
"He's still there," she said quietly.
"How close?" Mandla asked.
"Twenty metres. Maybe less."
"Keep walking. Don't stop."
She didn't. Past the flower sellers, past the taxi rank chaos, past a child selling newspapers who looked up at her with ancient eyes. The Castle walls rose grey in the distance. She focused on them.
The footsteps behind her quickened.
So did hers.
Then his hand closed on her shoulder — and everything stopped.
"Sissy." The man in the grey jacket held out her wallet. "You dropped this outside Woolworths."
She turned. His face was open, a little breathless, entirely ordinary.
In her earpiece, Mandla said nothing.
Neither did she.