Contact Again

Deep into the night, in the wealthy coastal area of Cape Town, a private manor that was as luxurious as a royal palace was shrouded in a strange silence.

It was as heavily guarded as a palace. One could hardly take one step without running into a sentry or a guard. Dozens of bodyguards dressed in black patrolled tirelessly within the grounds, alert to even the tiniest movement of a blade of grass.

In the heart of the private estate, in a bedroom of highest security, a skinny, haggard-looking man lay asleep. There was nothing left of his former glory.

It was Dlamini, who had lost a lot of weight.

If he was once called a lion, then after the kidnapping incident, he had become a cruel, paranoid jackal.