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He had turned this approach down, resenting the implication that working at Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors was somehow inferior. Im working with the finest mechanic in Botswana, he said. That is enough. And it wasat least in the professional sense. From the monetary point of view, though, it was true that he could be earning more elsewhere, although Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni had raised his salary as much as he could. And it would certainly be useful for Fanwell to have more money at his disposal, given his family obligations. Fanwell remembered now: Chobie had the reputation of being persuasive. It had always been difficult to say no to him. I dont have much spare time, he said weakly. Chobie put a hand on his shoulder. Thank you, he said. I am your friend, and I am asking you a favour. I knew that you would say yes. He paused. Dont bother with the tea, Fanwell. Lets go. I have this car over at my place that needs a new fan belt, and maybe theres something wrong with the brakesI cant tell. Youll know straightaway. Then, smacksmack, its fixed! CHOBIE HAD A CAR parked round the corner. He had paid a small to watch it for him while he was waiting for Fanwell, and now he gave the child the rest of the feea few coins pressed into an outstretched palm. See this car Chobie said proudly, patting the side of the vehicle. You got a car like this, Fanwell No chance. You could have one, though. Easy, easy. You come in with me and you could have one of these. Turbocharged. V8. You name it. Its there for the taking, Fanwell. He paused, looking bemusedly at the young mechanic. Of course, I forgot: you work at Tlokweng Road Somethingorother Motors. Speedy Motors, muttered Fanwell. Speedy not, said Chobie. Haha. Speedy not. Tlokweng Road OldFashioned Manual Transmission Motors. Thats what that place should be called. Fanwell laughed weakly. Even a halfhearted laugh, though, felt like a betrayal. It is a good garage. Oh, Im sure its a good garage. Good for old ladies and their rubbish, onehorsepower cars. You fix donkey carts in that place, Fanwell Fanwell looked away. They do not bring them. They do not bring any donkey carts. Chobie patted him playfully on the shoulder. Only joking, Fanwell. Anyway, lets get in and go over to my place. Ive got this yard, see, and the car I want you to fix up is there. Get in, my friend, get in. It was getting dark now. To the west, over the Kalahari, the sky was copper red, fading into pink and then into a colour that was somewhere between blue and white, the colour of emptiness; the lights of the town, bright pinpoints, were beginning to punctuate the dusk. Fanwell felt empty. He did not like Chobie; he had never really liked him. But he found it hard to resist the other young mans enthusiastic banter, and there could be no harm, surely, in helping out with this business of his. The secondhand car trade was a notoriously tricky one, and Fanwell had no doubt that Chobie was at the questionable end of it. But if Chobie chose to misleadand possibly even cheathis customers, it was not really any of Fanwells business. Indeed, one might argueand this line of argument was just occurring to Fanwellthat it would be positively better for him to work on Chobies cars; that way, the customers would have fewer problems and would get cars in better condition than would otherwise be the case. This work for Chobie, then, was virtually charitable, even if there was payment attached; that is how Fanwell looked at it, and that was how he was looking at things when Chobie turned the car into the gateway of a fencedoff storage yard. On the wall of this yard there was the wording, painted in high letters: Reliable Autos. We get you there. Get you where asked Fanwell. Chobie smiled. Where you want to get. Thats where everybodys heading, after all. To where they want to get. Fanwell did not say anything. Chobie switched off the engine and gestured to the single car that the yard contained. Isnt that a beauty he asked. Fanwell was noncommittal. They can give a lot of trouble, those cars, he muttered. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni says He did not finish. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni took a poor view of cars in which styling played a more important role than mechanical reliability, but Fanwell did not have the chance to relate these views before Chobie interrupted him. Mr. J.L.B. Rubbish. Of course he doesnt like cars like these. These cars are for successful people, not for people called J.L.B. Rubbish. Come on, lets get going. Chobie had rigged up a lamp on the end of a long extension cord. This was plugged into the lean to building at one side of the yard. Fanwell could not help but notice than from this structure there ran another wire, which snaked back to disappear over the wall. Such electricity as the site had, he realised, was drawn from elsewherestolen power. Chobie saw him looking at this. Youve got a problem with that, Fanwell Him over the wallhes got much more power than he needs. Im just taking a little bitjust this much. He made a gesture with two barely separated fingersa gesture that signified inconsequential smallness. Where did you get this car asked Fanwell, as they approached it across the yard. Chobie was ready with an answer. I bought it from a man. Paid good money. Where did he get it Chobie shrugged. How do I know Do you think you have to know every cars mother Do you think you have to know its father Cars are cars, man. They come, they go. You cant ask them all the details. Fanwell faltered, but only for a moment. He had his suspicions about Chobie, but he did not see what further enquiry he should be expected to make. It might be that Chobie had obtained the car in an underhand way, but it might equally be that he had come by it quite legitimately. Was it his business to find out No, he thought; not on balance, and he would ask Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni the next day, to see what he said. If he told him that it was wrong to fix cars when there was a doubt about their past, then he would refuse to help Chobie. If, however, he considered it to be all right, then he would help him. After all, the extra money would be useful. The new fan belt was soon installed, and he then turned his attention to the brakes. This was a comparatively minor problem, and he was able to fix it in spite of the complexity of the braking system installed in that particular make of car. After an hour or so, everything was done, and Fanwell was wiping his hands on the small hand towel that Chobie had thoughtfully provided. As he did so, he glanced at the lettering on the towel: SUN HOTEL. Noticing this, Chobie laughed. They gave that to me, he said. I know somebody who works there. Big time. He gave me that towel as a souvenir. Fanwell finished wiping his hands. I should get home now, he said. Chobie held up a hand. Not so fast, Fanwell. I owe you. He reached into his pocket and took out a number of folded banknotes. Counting out three hundred pula, he pressed these into Fanwells hand. Fee for service, he said. See Good money for good work. And therell be plenty moreplenty more. Taxfree too, ha! They began to walk back towards the car in which they had come. As they did so, a nondescript black van drew up at the gate and a man emerged. Chobie looked at the man and frowned. Yes, Rra You want something The man nodded. I need to buy a car, Rra. I need to buy a car for my wife. I saw your sign. Chobie, who had been tense at the beginning of this encounter, now visibly relaxed. Well, youre in the right place, my friend. But unfortunately Im a bit low on stock nowwe only have that big car over there. But have you got a mobile You give me the number and Ill fix you up with something good. No rubbishsomething good. And my mechanic here , he gestured to Fanwell, my mechanic is topclass. Hell make sure that its in A1 order when you get it. You t see your wife for dust. Bang, bang. Shell overtake all the other women. Bang, bang.





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