CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Lindela Repatriation Centre. The last stop for the poor migrants who had traveled to South Africa from parts unknown in search of a better way of life. This was the reality for ninety-nine percent of the population in the modern world. Their dreams were going to end unfulfilled. They were going to be sent home with broken hearts and chapped bottoms.
Mav exhaled from the driver’s seat of a Volkswagen sedan. A 2016 Jetta to be precise. This was the vehicle he used for all of his assignments. It had fake government plates—which allowed him to move about without interference from law enforcement. The darkness had set in. He was stationed a few metres from the facility’s entrance surrounded by school buses that were used to transport the migrants. His burner phone vibrated
