The Watcher
Night had a way of changing the city — quieting its noise but sharpening its danger.
Dombi stood across the street from the Ntuli Group headquarters, her hoodie pulled low, her breath calm but controlled. Kabelo stood beside her, eyes scanning every movement, every light, every guard rotation.
"Remember," he whispered, "she doesn't know us. Don't mention the plan. Only ask what we need."
Dombi nodded.
Her heartbeat wasn't fear.
It was for a purpose.
The night-shift entrance was a side door, used mostly by cleaners, security, and a few overworked interns. The Watcher always arrived ten minutes early and left two minutes late — a routine Mandla never noticed because he only respected power, not consistency.
At exactly 18:50, she appeared.
A woman in her mid-40s, slim, quiet, her hair tied back, uniform neat and clean. A small backpack slung over her shoulder. She walked with the soft steps of someone who had learned how to never disturb anything.
Her name was Ms. Dineo Mokoena — a night cleaner with thirteen years at Ntuli Group.
Dombi whispered, "That's her."
Kabelo nodded and stepped back into the shadows, letting Dombi handle the approach alone. This part needed a woman's gentleness — not force.
Dombi crossed the road slowly, timing her steps, not looking suspicious, not too fast. When she reached the walkway, Ms. Mokoena paused, looking confused but not scared.
"Evening, ngwana waka," the older woman greeted softly.
"You look lost. Are you okay?"
Her voice was warm. Familiar. A mother's tone.
Dombi swallowed.
"Yes… I mean, no. I need your help."
The woman blinked, surprised. "Help? From me?"
Dombi took a breath.
No lies — just enough truth.
"You've worked here for a long time… you see things other people ignore."
Ms. Mokoena's eyes narrowed slightly, studying her.
"You are Dombi Ntuli… aren't you?"
The words hit her like cold water.
Dombi froze.
"How did you—?"
The older woman smiled sadly.
"I knew your parents. I saw you here when you were a baby. I've watched you grow… from a distance. I notice things, child. That's my job."
Dombi's throat tightened.
Someone still remembered her parents with love.
Ms. Mokoena stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"Why are you here at night? And why are you hiding?"
Dombi looked into her eyes — warm, steady, honest.
She spoke quietly:
"They lied about my parents' death. They lied about the company. And someone inside this building is helping Mandla cover everything up."
Ms. Mokoena's face changed — a slow shift from concern to something sharper… something that had been waiting for this truth.
"Come with me," the woman whispered.
Inside the Building
The watcher's access card opened the night door effortlessly.
No cameras in the small supply corridor.
No guards.
Only the hum of fluorescent lights.
Ms. Mokoena walked slowly, glancing over her shoulder.
"I've suspected something for years," she said quietly. "Your father was kind. Honest. After he died… everything changed. People changed."
They reached the small break room.
She closed the door softly, locking it.
"Tell me what you need," she said.
Dombi exhaled shakily.
"We're looking for the mole. Someone who handles secret files, moves confidential documents, avoids cameras…"
Ms. Mokoena didn't blink.
"I know exactly who it is."
Dombi gasped softly.
"You do?"
Ms. Mokoena nodded, her voice low and certain.
"Her name is Thandi Mhlongo — senior administrative assistant. Mandla's shadow. She handles his illegal contracts, sets his meetings, deletes his emails before IT sees them."
Dombi felt her skin prickle.
The Watcher continued:
"I've seen Thandi at night… printing documents no one should print… using a different login when she thinks no one is watching."
Dombi leaned forward.
"Can you get us proof?"
Ms. Mokoena didn't hesitate.
"I can get you everything," she said.
"But it has to be tonight."
Dombi blinked.
"Tonight?"
"Yes. Tomorrow Mandla will tighten security before the press conference. If we wait, the window closes."
Dombi breathed in.
The plan was moving faster than expected — but she trusted the woman in front of her in a way that surprised her.
"Okay," Dombi whispered.
"What do you need from me?"
Ms. Mokoena gave a small, fierce smile.
"Nothing. Just be ready."
Meanwhile — Mandla's Surveillance Room
On the far side of the building, behind a locked door that most staff didn't know existed, Mandla stood in front of a surveillance monitor.
A guard pointed at the screen.
"Sir, motion detected at the side entrance… night-shift corridor."
Mandla squinted.
Two figures entering.
One looked familiar.
Too familiar.
He leaned forward.
His voice dropped into a deadly whisper.
"Zoom in."
The footage sharpened.
A hoodie.
A familiar walk.
And next to her—
"Mokoena," Mandla muttered.
"That old woman…"
Recognition snapped like a whip.
She wasn't just a cleaner.
She was dangerous.
Mandla's face hardened.
"Send a team to the lower levels," he said coldly.
"And shut down her access card. Now."
The guard hesitated.
"Sir… the building will notice—"
"NOW!" Mandla barked.
The guard scramble
d.
Mandla watched the screen, jaw clenched.
"So… the little heiress wants to play," he murmured.
He turned, eyes burning with cold fury.
"Let's make sure tonight is her last mistake."