Introduction

"Random Violence excels in its ability to translate our propensity for violent crime into a clever plot that could take place only in South Africa."--Gillian Anstey, The Sunday Times (South Africa)

"Mackenzie delivers a thriller that will hopefully be the first of many."--The Star (South Africa)

In Johannesburg, prosperous whites live behind gates; when they exit their cars to open the gates, car-jackings are common. But seldom is the victim killed, much less shot twice, like Annette Botha. Piet Botha, the husband of the wealthy woman, is the primary suspect in his wife's murder.

PI Jade de Jong fled South Africa ten years ago after her father was killed. Now back in town, she offers to help her father's former assistant, Superintendent David Patel, with his investigation of this case. Under apartheid, Patel, of Indian descent, could never have attained his present position. But he is feeling pressure from his ?old line? boss with respect to this investigation and fears lingering prejudice is at work.

As Jade probes into this and other recent car-jacking cases, a pattern begins to emerge, a pattern that goes back to her father's murder and involves a vast and intricate series of crimes for profit.

Jassy Mackenzie, born in Rhodesia, moved to South Africa when she was eight years old. She has actually been car-jacked at gunpoint outside her home in Kyalami, near Johannesburg. She edits and writes for the annual publication Best of South Africa.

Editorial Review

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Excerpt

1
Annette arrived home in the dark. Her car’s tires crunched
on the sand driveway and the brakes squeaked as she pulled
to a hurried halt outside the tall metal gate. The heater’s fan
was on maximum and the eight o’clock news was starting on
the radio, but she didn’t have time to listen. Stopping at night
was risky. Getting out of the car was even more dangerous,
but she had no choice. Pulling the keys from the ignition,
with the useless gate buzzer dangling from the bunch, she
climbed out.
She hunched her shoulders against the cold, hugging her
flimsy work jacket around her as she hurried over to the
gate. She passed the “Sold” sign, rattling against the metal
stakes that held it in the ground. The wind was blowing hard,
hissing and whistling through the long dry grass that flanked
her driveway. The growth swayed and parted and she peered
at it suspiciously. For a moment it looked as if somebody was
crouched inside, trying to hide.
Her head jerked up as she saw movement ahead of her. Four
large dogs rushed towards the gate, their shadows stretching
out behind them in the beams of her car’s headlights. The lead
Alsatian snarled at his followers, defending his position as the
others crowded too close. Leaping and wagging their tails, the
dogs pushed their noses through the bars in welcome.
Annette smiled in relief, leaning forward and scratching
their coarse fur. “Hey, boys. Just a minute and I’ll be inside.”
2
She fumbled with the bunch of keys, searching for the
right one, her breath misting in the icy air. The giant padlock
was easy to open because it was new, but it was difficult
to remove because of its size. It was wedged into the thick
steel rings between the gate and the gatepost. She struggled
with the stubborn metal, so cold to the touch it seemed to
burn. She glanced behind her at the lonely road while the
dogs whined and shoved their muzzles against her hand in
encouragement.
Finally the padlock jerked free, pinching a fold of skin
on her finger as it came loose. She swore, cradling her hand
against the pain. She would have a blood blister tomorrow, to
add to the one from yesterday.
“Got to get that gate motor fixed,” she told the dogs.
Her keys dug into her palm as she wrapped her hands
around the bars and shoved her shoulder into the heavy gate.
The sand and rust clogging its runners made it a swine to
slide open, especially at the start. Once it had been forced
to get moving, it was easier. But as she started to push, her
dogs tensed and one of them barked. Spinning round, she
squinted into the blackness beyond her little Golf. She saw
another vehicle pull to a stop in the road. It had approached
silently, headlights off. Its dark body gleamed faintly red in
the glow of her taillights.
Annette stared in disbelief as the driver climbed out and
strolled round the front of the car towards her, as casual
and relaxed as if he was a friendly neighbor stopping to give
her some help. But she lived on two hundred acres of land
and spoke to the neighbors two or three times a year about
fencing and firebreaks. If they drove past her place at night,
they would have their headlights on full and their feet on
3
the accelerator, gunning their car down the dark ribbon of
tarmac, counting the minutes until they reached home.
This man wasn’t a neighbor. And he certainly wasn’t
friendly. Once he was clear of the car, he turned to face her.
With a heart-stopping rush of terror, she saw the shape of a
gun in his hand.
“No, please, don’t. Oh Jesus. Help me!”
Her first instinct was to run. But the dark car blocked
the road ahead of her, and there were deep drainage ditches
in the overgrowth on either side. She turned back to the
gate, pushing with panicked strength against its stubborn
weight. If she could let the dogs out, she’d have a chance. It
moved a few inches and then jammed, just as it had done
the night before. The dogs were all barking now, hurling
themselves at the gap in their efforts to protect her. Their
noise was a solid force that pulsed against her face, but
they couldn’t get through to help her. Sobbing from the
effort, her shoulder in agony, she knew she had no more
time to try.
She turned back to face her attacker.
“Do you want my car? Here, take it.” Her voice sounded
thin and high and the keys jingled in her unsteady hand as
she held them out towards him.
The shadows on the man’s face deepened. He shook his
head. He took another step forward and raised the gun.
Above the clamor of the dogs, Annette heard a metallic
clicking sound. She didn’t know much about guns but there
was only one thing this could mean.
The safety catch was off.
Her legs wouldn’t move. Her arms dropped to her sides.
She wanted to plead, to beg him for her life. But what good
4
would it do? He had already refused her car. And her throat
had become so dry, she doubted whether she could speak
at all.
Her fingers brushed against the pepper spray on her key ring.
It was her only chance, even if it was a hopeless one. She fumbled
with the metal canister. Quickly now. Lift and spray. Aim high,
go for the eyes. Praying for a miracle, she raised her hand.
The man fired twice. The first shot got her square in the chest,
slamming her back against the gate. As she began to slide to the
ground, the second shot caught the side of her neck, ripping it
open. Gushing blood, she collapsed onto the stony surface.
The killer watched her die, and then moved over to the
open door of her car, where the heater was blowing and the
newsreader was telling listeners about the price of gold and
the strength of the rand against the dollar. With gloved fingers,
he removed her handbag from the passenger seat. As quietly
as it had arrived, the black vehicle moved away. At the gate the
dogs continued to bark, their eyes brilliant in the glow from
the headlights, their muzzles now crimson with blood.
2
The highway from Johannesburg’s airport was busier than
Jade remembered. More cars, more taxis, queues of trucks
and lorries. Forests of billboards advertised insurance and
cell phones. Smog and dust smothered the city like a dirty
blanket, trapped by the temperature inversion that would
only lift when the summer rains came.
Road signs loomed above them and David changed lanes,
forcing a BMW to veer out of the way. The driver blasted his
horn and gesticulated furiously through his tinted windows.
5
“What’s his problem?” David asked.
Jade eased her foot off an imaginary brake pedal. “Nothing,
I’m sure. Carry on with what you were saying. And watch
out, because there’s some slow traffic ahead.”
Not everything had changed, she thought. David’s driving
was as bad as ever. She’d hoped that in the ten years she’d
been away it might have improved a little.
“Like I was telling you, I got promoted a month ago. You’re
talking to Superintendent Patel now. I head up an investigation
unit at Johannesburg Central.”
“Congratulations. That’s great news.”
David grimaced. “I thought so too at first. Then I realized
I’ve landed in one hell of a mess.”
“What kind of a mess?”
“My predecessor died. Heart attack. He left me with a case
backlog longer than a Sandton traffic jam. I found a kneedeep
pile of dossiers in his office. Literally. Stacked up on
the floor. Old cases, cold cases, priority cases. I’ve seen three
affidavits in there already that everybody thought had been
lost. It took nine years of his inefficiency to create that bloody
heap and now I’m getting saddled with the blame.”
Jade could easily imagine what David’s reaction must have
been. When it came to his work, he was a perfectionist. His
desk was always immaculate. In the morning it would be
piled with reports and case files, their edges set square. By the
evening, it would be clear. The paperwork would have been
dealt with, or filed away. She’d called him a magician. He’d
said it was easy. She wondered how long it would take him to
sort it out. Perhaps he already had.
“How did he get to that position if he was so inept?”
“He’s not the only one, Jade. You won’t believe how the
6
police force has changed. We’re swamped with incompetents.
If your father was here today, he’d be after half the new personnel
with a sjambok, whipping them into shape.”
Jade hadn’t thought much about her father since she left. It
had taken considerable effort, but she had managed. Back in
Johannesburg she knew she’d be reminded of him constantly.
Especially when she was with David. He had long been like an
older brother to her. Now she couldn’t look at him without
imagining Commissioner de Jong hovering in the background,
gazing at both of them with fatherly affection while
keeping a stern eye on David to make sure he didn’t transgress
any of the unspoken rules regarding his daughter.
She took a deep breath and forced the image of her father
firmly out of her mind.
“You mentioned a problem case when we spoke on the
phone. Is that part of the backlog?”
A couple of days previously, Jade had been almost deafened
by David’s delighted bellow when, after a moment’s pause,
he’d realized who was on the long-distance line.
“Jadey! Where the bloody hell have you been?”
“I’m in the UK. But I’m coming back to Jo’burg,” she’d told him.
“When do you arrive? Give me your flight number and
I’ll fetch you from the airport. Do you need somewhere to
stay? Oh, and while you’re here there’s a case you can help me
with, if you have time.”
She hadn’t been able to suppress her delighted grin. David
sounded exactly the same as he had ten years ago, barking out
instructions, organizing everything down to the last detail in
the time it took the average person to draw breath.
Damn, it was good to see him again. Good to be back
in the crazy boomtown energy of Johannesburg, too. She
7
hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the feel of the city.
She’d just completed a surveillance job in the muggy heat
of an English summer. The firm had offered her another
assignment but she’d turned it down. It was time for her to
return to South Africa.
David swung the car into the fast lane, glanced at the road
ahead, and turned his full attention back to Jade. “No. I need
your help with a new case. A woman was murdered a few
nights ago, on a smallholding just north of here. Shot as she
arrived home. It looks like a car hijacking that went wrong.”
“What happened?”
“We think some guys pulled off the road and threatened
her. Opportunistic crime. But she had a pepper spray in her
hand when we found her body. Seems she tried to resist them
instead of saying ‘Yes, sir’ and handing over the keys.”
“She tried to use pepper spray? With a gun aimed at her?”
“Maybe she panicked. Acted without thinking.”
“And what did they do?”
“Seems they also panicked. Shot her dead, snatched her
bag from the car, then took off.”
Jade shook her head. She was back in South Africa all right.
“Any evidence?” she asked.
“First person on the scene was a minibus taxi driver.
According to his report, one of his passengers saw the body
and shouted at him to stop. So he reversed and they all got out
to go and have a look. Eighteen people and one goat.”
“A goat?” Jade glanced at David to see if he was joking. He
wasn’t. He was looking straight at her, his eyes worried and
serious in his brown-skinned face. She hurriedly transferred
her gaze back to the road, ready to warn him if he strayed into
the path of an oncoming tanker.
... view entire excerpt...

Discussion Questions

From the publisher:

Random Violence captures the essence of modern Johannesburg, a city where good and
evil are constantly at war, greed is the strongest driving force, and help (if it arrives) often
comes from unexpected sources. Below are some questions to stimulate your book club
discussion.
1. Many readers still associate the word “apartheid” with South African writing,
believing that every book from South Africa will be “struggle literature”. What
other South African authors have you read, and do you have any preconceptions
when it comes to South African writing?
2. Many South African readers are nervous of local crime fiction, believing that
crime stories that take place in their own country are too disturbingly close to
home. Do you feel uneasy when you read a crime novel that takes place in your
home city? How does this compare with reading about crimes that take place on
other continents and/or involve different cultures?
3. In Random Violence, there are no characters who could be described as one
hundred percent good. They all have a dash of bad in them, and a couple are
downright evil. Which character in the novel do you think comes closest to being
truly good? And who is the most evil?
4. Jade’s and David's relationship might generously be described as conflicted. What
do you think of Jade and David as romantic partners? In what ways are they
suited to each other and what would they have to change in order for their
relationship to work? Should they even end up together?
5. In Random Violence, events of the past have a powerful influence on the future,
and by the end of the book the reader knows a fair amount about the main
characters' pasts. Which character's past do you think has the biggest effect on the
story, and why?
6. In your opinion, which characters in Random Violence meet the fate they deserve?
Which character do you feel the sorriest for (if any) at the end of the book?
7. Random Violence has been described as having a plot “that could take place only
in South Africa.” Do you agree with this statement? How easy would it be for
Whiteboy to set up a similar business in your home city?
8. Renowned South African police profiler Micki Pistorius once said, “We are all
killers. We all have the potential to commit murder.” Jade is a vigilante,
somebody with her own strong sense of justice and little conscience when it
comes to the law. How do you feel about these aspects of her character in the light
of the above comment? And do you believe Pistorius’s comment is true?

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