�Yes, General, I have.�
�Well, the Council wants us on it.�
Mabena blinked. �But that�s not our mandate, sir. Shouldn�t this be handled by Crime Intelligence or Homicide? Involving us feels like overkill.�
Kunene gave him a look�sharp, questioning. �You�re not aware of the method used to assassinate Mr. De Lange?�
�Firearms, sir,� Mabena replied, confident,
Kunene leaned back, voice low and precise. �Russian OSV-96s, Twelve-point-seven by one-zero-eight millimeter, anti-materiel rifles�designed to punch through armor and concrete bunkers.�
Mabena�s jaw slackened. �What�?�
�Exactly,� Kunene said. �Those weapons belong on a battlefield, not in a beachfront suburb. That�s why the Committee wants us in. This wasn�t a hit. It was a message.�
Mabena nodded slowly, �Understood.�
�This is the seventh high-profile killing in eight months. All wealthy businessmen all executed with military precision. The Committee suspects there�s more beneath the surface. They want it buried until we know what we�re dealing with.�
�Who else knows?�
�No one,� Kunene said. �You�ll pick a four-man team. Trust them with your life�and nothing else. No one outside the unit hears a word - Total blackout.�
Mabena stepped forward and lifted a slim docket from the General�s desk - Only one sheet inside. In two weeks, he knew, it would be thick with secrets.
�I�m on it, sir,� he said.
Kunene simply nodded.