1

The journey was almost over; they were nearly at their destination. There was a turn-off and nothing else in sight except a tree, a field of sheep and lines of heat rippling from the tar. Adam was supposed to stop, but he didn’t stop, or not completely. Nothing was coming, it was safe, what he did posed no danger to anybody.

When the cop stepped out from behind the tree, it was as if he’d materialized out of nowhere. He was clean and vertical and peremptory in his uniform, like an exclamation mark. He stood in the road with his hand held up and Adam pulled over. They looked at each other through the open window.

Adam said, ‘Oh, come on, you can’t be serious.’

The cop was a young man, wearing dark glasses. He gave the impression, in all this dust and sun, of being impossibly cool and composed. ‘There is a stop sign,’ he told Adam. ‘You didn’t stop. The fine is one thousand rand.’

‘Wow. That’s a lot of money.’

He smiled and shrugged. ‘Your driver’s licence, please.’

‘Can’t you let it go? Just give me a warning or something?’ He searched for the man’s eyes, but all he got was dark glass.

‘I have to follow the rules, sir. Do you want me to break the rules?’

‘Uh, well, it would be nice if you stretched them a bit.’

The man smiled again. ‘I could get into trouble for that, sir.’ After a pause he added, ‘You would have to make it worth my while.’

‘Sorry?’

‘If you want me to break the rules, you have to make it worthwhile.’

It was spoken so casually, in such a conversational way, that Adam thought he’d misheard. But no: it had been said, exa