Jo'Burg Days: The Package From Amsterdam
There was a squealing of brakes, slamming of doors, then a furious ringing of the entrance security bell... Barbara Durlacher tells of the day when the Drug Squad arrived to investigate the noisy gang upstairs.
“There’s these letters, missus” said Sam, handing her a large bundle of undelivered mail.
Every few months, Sam had his instructions to give the caretaker of the small block of flats in Bellevue East, Johannesburg undelivered mail, which she would then sort and, if possible, redirect.
After sifting through the large bundle, she was eventually left with more than a dozen letters, all addressed - with many different surnames - to Flat 32, and all originating from the accounts offices of the telephone company.
Deciding to take the bull by the horns, she quickly slit open the letters. After co-ordinating the contents, she realised that they were all recently opened telephone accounts in many spurious names, all intended for the very questionable gang of Nigerians living in No. 32, the flat above hers, and that they indicated the presence of “line stealing” and stolen calls.
This is the practice whereby clever thieves clandestinely ‘hook-on’ to telephone lines in certain areas, and sell calls to overseas destinations at a discounted rate. Changing addresses frequently, and leaving behind unpaid accounts of thousands of rands, the practice has been widely practiced by Nigerians immigrants to South Africa. It is also frequently associated with the criminal and illegal importation of narcotics and dangerous drugs. Studying the telephone statements closely, she noticed that nearly half of the calls were to Amsterdam, Columbia and India, many were of long duration, and consequently, expensive.
Feeling strongly that it was her public duty to report this, she the contacted the telephone company. Despite their obvious interest and wish to co-operate, the message was simple, “Unless we catch them in the act, there is nothing we can do to secure a conviction”, and the subject was dropped.
This was very disappointing, but a few weeks later when she heard the squeal of brakes, slamming of doors, and then a furious ringing of the entrance security bell she became very interested indeed. Answering the security phone, she was informed that this was Sersjeant ‘Basie’ van Wyk of the Drug Squad. He was here with his men, requesting permission to enter the building to look for drugs, and if it was refused, they did not hesitate to inform her, they were quite prepared to break down doors with their battering rams, or smash the windows of any flat they wanted to search, “Without permission, but acting in the name of the law”.
A few minutes later, “I need to stand on your balcony, Missus” one of the black detectives said to her, to which she quickly agreed.
“Why do you want to stand there?” she asked.
“In case they throw evidence out of the window, or even try to jump out and run away” was the experienced reply.
Soon there were sounds of banging and the tinkle of falling glass. Biting her lip and wondering if shots would be exchanged, she waited to hear what would transpire. Then she heard shouting angry, interspersed with terse commands in Afrikaans, Zulu and one of the North African languages. Later, “Vat hom” she heard (“Take them”) and after a few minutes, she saw two large black men handcuffed and subdued, hustled down the stairs and into the unmarked police car.
The police left, and by the end of the day, a quick exodus, together with their bags and baggage, saw the end of the noisy gang who had made life so unbearable for the residents.
Opening the morning paper the next day, she was pleased to see at the bottom of page one, “Drug Squad Catch Leader of Notorious Drug Smugglers”. The account detailed how a tip-off at the airport told of sniffer dogs locating a ‘Package from Amsterdam’ addressed to ‘No 32, Holly Heights, Bellevue East’, and how the quick response team of undercover police had sped to Holly Heights and, after a search, arrested the sought-after leaders of the notorious gang.
Large quantities of high-value dangerous drugs had been found, together with a bundle of stolen identity cards; several cheque-books and other personal belongings; and more importantly, a number of forged passports.
Long jail terms followed, then deportation from the country, but although the Drug Squad and Sersjeant ‘Basie’ van Wyk in particular had much on which to congratulate themselves in this operation, she ruefully had to accept that when her feminine intuition warned her that those telephone accounts spelt trouble, nobody was prepared to act on it, although to her the evidence seemed rock-solid!
