The Tailor of the Waterfront – Part 2: The Fittings

Sipho made tea, and they talked late into the evening as the lights of the harbour came on.

Claire had been investigating Fourie for six months. His company claimed to have offices in three countries and thousands of happy customers. But when she visited the offices, they were empty rooms. The customers did not answer their phones. And on Friday, at the gala, he planned to sign the biggest investment deal in the city's history.

"I think the whole company is a lie," she said. "But I can't prove it."

Sipho looked at the three sets of measurements on his table.

"Perhaps the fabric can," he said.

On Wednesday, the two "brothers" came for their fittings.

They were polite and nervous. They did not look anything like Daniel or like each other. When Sipho asked friendly questions while he pinned their sleeves, where they grew up and what they did, their answers did not match.

But Sipho was not listening only to their words. He was watching them the way a tailor does. One kept touching his left wrist, where a watch would be, though he wore none. The other stood with his feet apart like a man used to standing on a ship's deck.

And inside the jacket of the second man, when Sipho checked the fit, he felt a stiff square of paper in the inner pocket. He did not take it. He only saw the edge.

A passport. Not South African.

When they had gone, Sipho called Claire.

"The suits are costumes," he said. "Daniel isn't dressing his brothers. He is dressing himself. Three times." He paused. "Three identical men at a crowded gala. Three exits."

"Why?"

Sipho looked out at the harbour, where a private yacht had been moored at the end of the quay all week.

"Because on Friday, after the investors sign, one of them is going to disappear with all the money."

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Next: Part 3, The Gala. Three identical suits with three tiny secrets stitched inside, and a glass ballroom where the mountain is lit behind.