Service, and then forged in a brutal two-year crucible of ethics training and near-cultish initiation. They were built to resist temptation, terror, and torture. Bribes bounced off them. Bullets rarely found them. Fear didn�t register.
Their loyalty was absolute - Their mandate, untouchable.
They answered only to one entity: the Parliamentary Intelligence Oversight Council�two members per political party, each vetted by an independent body. The result was a purified force of bonded men and women, beyond politics, beyond bribes, beyond reach.
And Brigadier Siyabonga Mabena was one of them.
The day was almost done. Just past five.
Brigadier Mabena raised from his desk, cleared the stained coffee mug, stretched, and exhaled. Thirty minutes to knock-off. He couldn�t wait for the old men in schoolboy blazers to return to their normal selves, for the aching weight in his chest to ease. Youth Day always scraped at his soul.
Then the phone rang.
��my office, now!�
General Mandla Kunene. No greeting. No small talk.
The urgency in his voice was unmistakable. Mabena had known the General long enough to read between the words. Two years of brutal Mamba training under Kunene�s command. One more year of sharing the same sterile government block. He understood the man�s tells. And that voice�it was laced with something he rarely heard from the old lion: worry.
He moved.
Snatched the door open and strode into the hallway, boots echoing down the polished floors. He didn�t waste a second. Whatever had rattled the General�it wasn�t ordinary. And Mabena had learned long ago: when Mandla Kunene sounded shaken, something was seriously wrong.
Mabena knocked as he entered�simultaneous and swift. He didn�t wait for permission. He knew the General was expecting him. By the time he shut the door, Kunene was already speaking.
�Have you heard about the incident in Umhlanga�Lagoon Drive?� the General asked, eyes locked on Mabena.