Текст книги "Rage"

Автор книги: Wilbur Smith

Соавторы: Wilbur Smith
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 53 страниц)

'Strange how we were enemies then, and now we are allies,' Shasa persisted, and let him think about that for a while before he went on.

'I have most carefully considered the offer you made to me. Although it is difficult for a man to change sides, and many people will put the worst construction on my motives, I now see that it is my duty to my country to do what you suggest and to employ what talent I have for the good of the nation." 'So you will accept the prime minister's offer?" 'Yes, you may tell the prime minister that I will join the government, but in my own time and my own way. I will not cross the floor of the House, but as soon as parliament is dissolved for the coming elections, I will resign from the United Party to stand for the National Party." 'Good,' Manfred nodded. 'That is the honourable way." But there was no honourable way, Shasa realized, and was silent for a moment before he went on.

'I am grateful for your part in this, Meneer. I know that you have been instrumental in affording me this opportunity. In view of what has happened between our families, it is an extraordinary gesture you have made." 'There was nothing personal in my decision." Manfred shook his head. et was simply a case of the best man for the job. I have not forgotten what your family has done to mine – and I never will." 'I will not forget either,' Shasa said softly. 'I have inherited guilt rightly or wrongly, I will never be sure. However, I would like to make some reparation to your father." 'How would you do that, Meneer?" Manfred asked stiffly. 'How would you compensate a man for the loss of his arm and for all those years spent in prison? How will you pay a man for the damage to his soul that captivity has inflicted?" 'I can never full compensate him,' Shasa agreed. 'However, suddenly and unexpectedly I have been given the opportunity to restore to your father a large part of that which was taken from him." 'Go on,' Manfred invited. 'I am listening." 'Your father was issued a fishing licence in 1929. I have searched the records. That licence is still valid." 'What would the old man do with a fishing licence now? You don't understand – he is physically and mentally ruined." 'The fishing industry out of Walvis Bay has revived and is booming. The number of licences has been severely limited. Your father's licence is worth a great deal of money." He saw the shift in Manfred's eyes, the little sparks of interest swiftly screened.

'You think my father should sell it?" he asked heavily. 'And by any chance would you be interested in buying it?" He smiled sarcastically.

Shasa nodded. 'Yes, of course I'd like to buy it, but that might not be best for your father." Manfred's smile withered, he hadn't expected that.

'What else could he do with it?" 'We could re-open the factory and work the licence together as partners. Your father puts up thelicence, and I put up the capital and my business skills. Within a year or two, your father's share will almost certainly be worth a million pounds." Shasa watched him carefully as he said it. This was more, much more than a business offer. It was a testing. Shasa wanted to reach beyond the man's granite crust, that monumental armour of puritanical righteousness. He wanted to probe for weaknesses, to find any chinks that he could exploit later.

'A million pounds,' he repeated. 'Perhaps even a great deal more." And he saw the sparks in the other man's fierce pale eyes again, just for an instant, the little yellow sparks of greed. The man was human after all. 'I can deal with him now,' Shasa thought, and to cover his relief he lifted his briefcase from the floor beside his deckchair and opened it on his lap.

'I have worked out a rough agreement–' he took out a sheaf all typed blue foolscap sheets '–you could show it to your father, discuss it with him." Manfred took the sheets from him. 'da, I will see him when I return home next week." 'There is one small problem,' Shasa admitted. 'This licence was issued a long time ago. The government department may wish to repudiate it. It is their policy to allow only four licences–' Manfred looked up from the contract. 'That will be no problem,' Manfred said, and Shasa lifted his beer tankard to hide his smile.

They had just shared their first secret. Manfred De La Rey was going to use his influence for personal gain. Like a lost virginity, the next time would be easier.

Shasa had realized from the beginning that he would be an outsider in a cabinet of Afrikaner Nationalists. He desperately needed a trustworthy ally amongst them, and if that ally could be linked to him by shared financial blessings and 'a few off-colour secrets, then his loyalty would be secured. Shasa had just achieved this, with the promise of vast profits to himself to sweeten the bargain. A good day's work, he thought, as he closed the briefcase with a snap.

'Very good, Meneer. I'm grateful to you for having given me your time. Now I will leave you to enjoy what remains of your holiday undisturbed." Manfred look up. 'Meneer, my wife is preparing lunch for us. She will be very unhappy if you leave so soon." At last his smile was genial. 'And this evening I will have a few good friends visit me for a braaivleis, a barbecue. There are plenty of spare beds. Stay the night.

You can leave early tomorrow morning." 'You are very kind." Shasa sank back in his chair. The feeling between them had changed, but Shasa's intuition warned him there were hidden depths in their ?elationship which still had to be plumbed, and as he smiled into Manfred De La Rey's topaz-coloured eyes, he felt a sudden small chill, a cold wind through a chink in his memory. Those eyes haunted him. He was trying to remember something. It remained obscure but somehow strangely menacing. Could it have been from their childhood fight? he wondered. But he did not think so. The memory was closer than that, and more threatening.

He almost grasped it, and then Manfred looked down at the contract again, almost as though he had sensed what Shasa was searching for, and the shape of the memory slipped away beyond Shasa's grasp.

Heidi De La Rey came out on to the verandah in her apron, but she had changed out of her faded old skirt and twisted her plaited hair up on top of her head.

'Lunch is ready – and I do hope you eat fish, Meneer Courtney." Shasa set out to charm the family during lunch. Heidi and the girls were easy. The boy Lothar was different, suspicious and withdrawn. However, Shasa had three sons of his own, and he drew him out with stories of flying and hunting big game, until despite himself the boy's eyes shone with interest and admiration.

When they rose from the table, Manfred nodded grudgingly. 'Ja, Meneer, I must remember never to underestimate you." That evening a small group comprising a man and woman and four children came straggling over the dunes from the south, and Manfred's children rushed out to meet them and lead them up on to the verandah of the cottage.

Shasa stayed in the background throughout the noisy greetings of the two families. Theirs was obviously a close relationship of long standing.

Of course, Shasa recognized the head of the other family. He was a big man, even heavier in build than Manfred De La Rey. Like him, he had also been a member of the boxing team that had participated in the Berlin Olympic Games of 1936. He had been a senior lecturer in law at Stellenbosch University, but had recently resigned to become a junior partner in the firm of Van Schoor, De La Rey and Stander, the firm in which Manfred De La Rey had become the senior partner after the death of old Van Schoor some years before.

Apart from his law practice, Roelf Stander acted as Manfred's chief party organizer and had managed Manfred's 1948 campaign for him. Although not himself a member of parliament, he was a leg man of the National Party and Shasa knew that he was almost certainly a member of the Broederbond, the Brotherhood, that clandestine society of elite Afrikaners.

When Manfred De La Rey began to introduce them, Shasa saw that Roelf Stander recognized him and looked a little sheepish.

'I hope you aren't going to throw eggs at me again, Meneer Stander,' Shasa challenged him, and Roelf chuckled.

'Only if you make another bad speech, Meneer Courtney." During the 1948 election, in which Shasa had been defeated by Manfred De La Rey, this man had organized the gang of bully boys who had broken up Shasa's election meetings. Though Shasa was smiling now, his resentment was almost as fierce as it had been at the time. It had always been standard Nationalist tactics to break up the meetings of their opponents. Manfred De La Rey sensed the hostile feelings between them.

'We will soon be on the same side,' he said, as he stepped Between them placatingly and placed a hand on each of their arms. 'Let me find a beer for both of you and we'll drink to letting bygones be bygones." The two of them turned away and quickly Shasa scrutinized RoeIf Stander's wife. She was thin, almost to the point of starvation, and there was an air of resignation and weariness about her, so it took a moment for even Shasa's trained eye to see how pretty she must once have been, and how attractive she still was. She was returning his scrutiny, but dropped her eyes the moment they met Shasa's single eye.

Heidi De La Rey had not missed the exchange and now she took the woman's arm and led her forward.

'Meneer Courtney, this is my dear friend Sarah Stander." 'Aangename kennis,' Shasa bowed slightly. 'Pleasant meeting, Mevrou." 'How do you do, Squadron Leader,' the woman replied quietly, and Shasa blinked. He had not used his rank since the war. It was, of course, poor form to do so.

'Have we met?" he asked, for once off-balance and the woman shook her head quickly and turned to Heidi to speak about the children. Shasa was unable to pursue the matter, for at that moment Manfred handed him a beer and the three men carried their tankards down off the stoep to watch Lothar and the Standers' eldest boy, Jakobus, build the fire for the barbecue. Though the masculine conversation was informed and their views interesting – both Manfred and Roelf Stander were educated and highly intelligent men – Shasa found his thoughts returning to the thin pale woman who had used his airforce rank. He wished for the opportunity to speak to her alone, but realized that was unlikely and dangerous. He knew very well how protective and jealous the Afrikaners were of their women, and how easy it would be to precipitate an ugly and damaging incident. So he kept away from Sarah Stander, but for the rest of the evening observed her carefully, and so gradually became aware of undercurrents of emotion in the relationships of the two families: The two men seemed very close and it was obvious that their friendship was of long standing, but with the women it was different. They were just too kind and considerate and appreciative of each other, the certain indications of deep-seated female antagonism. Shasa stored that revelation, for human relationships and weaknesses were essential tools of his trade, but it was only later in the evening that he made two other important discoveries.

He intercepted an unguarded look that Sarah Stander directed at Manfred De La Rey while he was laughing with her husband, and Shasa recognized it instantly as a look of hatred, but that particularly corrosive type of hatred that a woman can conceive for a man whom she once loved. That hatred explained for Shasa the weariness and resignation that had almost ruined Sarah Stander's beauty. It explained also the resentment that the two women felt for each other.

Heidi De La Rey must realize that Sarah had once loved her husband, and that beneath the hatred she probably still did. The play of feelings and emotions fascinated Shasa, he had learned so much of value and had achieved so much in a single day that he was well satisfied by the time that Roelf Stander called his family together.

'It's almost midnight, come on, everybody. We have a long walk home." Each of them had brought a flashlight, and there was a flurry of farewells, the girls and women exchanging kisses, while first Roelf Stander and then his son Jakobus came to shake Shasa's hand.

'Goodbye,' Jakobus said, with the innate good manners and respect for elders that every Afrikaner child is taught from birth. 'I would also like to hunt a black-maned lion one day." He was a tall well-favoured lad, two or three years older than Lothar; he had been as fascinated as Lothar by Shasa's hunting stories but there was something familiar about him that had ni'ggled Shasa all evening. Lothar stood beside his friend, smiling politely, and suddenly it dawned on Shasa. The boys had the same eyes, the pale cat-eyes of the De La Reys. For a moment he was.at a loss to explain it, and then it all fell into place.

The hatred he had observed in Sarah Stander was explained. Manfred De La Rey was the father of her son.

Shasa stood beside Manfred on the top stair of the stoep and they watched the Stander family climb the dunes, the beams of their flashlights darting about erratically and the shrill voices of the children dwindling into the night, and he wondered if he could ever piece together the clues he had gleaned this evening and discover the full extent of Manfred De La Rey's vulnerability. One day it might be vital to do so.

It would be easy enough discreetly to search the records for the marriage date of Sarah Stander and compare it to the birth date of her eldest son, but how would he ever coax from her the true significance of her use of his military rank. She had called him 'Squadron Leader'.

She knew him, that was certain, but how and where? Shasa smiled. He enjoyed a good mystery, Agatha Christie was one of his favourite authors. He would work on it.

Shasa woke with the grey of dawn lining the curtains over his bed, and a pair of bokmakierie shrikes singing one of their complicated duets from the scrub of the dunes. He stripped off the pyjamas Manfred had lent him and shrugged on the bathrobe, before he crept from the silent cottage and went down to the beach.

He swam naked, slashing over-arm through the cold green water and ducking under the successive lines of breaking white surf until he was clear; then he swam slowly parallel to the beach but five hundred yards off. The chances of shark attack were remote, but the possibility spiced his enjoyment. When it was time to go in he caught a breaking wave and rode it into the beach, and waded ashore, laughing with exhilaration and the joy of life.

He mounted quietly to the stoep of the cottage, not wanting to disturb the family, but a movement from the far end stopped him.

Manfred sat in one of the deckchairs with a book in his hands. He was already shaved and dressed.

'Good morning, Meneer,' Shasa greeted him. 'Are you going fishing again today?" 'It's Sanday,' Manfred reminded him. 'I don't fish on a Sunday." 'Ah, yes." Shasa wondered why he felt guilty for having enjoyed his swim, then he recognized the antique leather-covered black book that Manfred was holding.

'The Bible,' he remarked, and Manfred nodded.

'Ja, I read a few pages before I begin each day, but on Sunday or when I have a particular problem to face, I like to read a full chapter." 'I wonder how many chapters you read before you screwed your best friend's wife,' Shasa thought, but said aloud, 'Yes, the Book is a great comfort,' and tried not to feel a hypocrite as he went through to dress.

Heidi laid an enormous breakfast, everything from steak to pickled fish, but Shasa ate an apple and drank a cup of coffee before he excused himself.

'The forecast on the radio is for rain later. I want to get back to Cape Town before the weather closes in." 'I will walk up to the airstrip with you." Manfred stood up quickly.

Neither of them spoke until the track reached the ridge, and then Manfred asked suddenly, 'Your mother – how is she?" 'She is well. She always is, and she never seems to age." Shasa watched his face, as he went on, 'You always ask about her. When last did you see her?" 'She is a remarkable woman,' Manfred said stolidly, avoiding the question.

'I have tried to make up in some way for the damage she has done your family,' Shasa persisted, and Manfred seemed not to have heard. Instead he stopped in the middle of the track, as if to admire the view, but his breathing was ragged. Shasa had set a fast pace up the hill.

'He's out of condition,' Shasa gloated. His own breathing was unruffled, and his body lean and hard.

'It's beautiful,' Manfred said, and only when he made a gesture that swept the wide horizon, did Shasa realize that he was talking about the land. He looked and saw that from the ocean to the blue mountains of the Langeberge inland, it was indeed beautiful.

'And the Lord said unto him, "This is the land which I sware unto Abraham, unto Isaac and unto Jacob, saying, I will give it unto thy seed",' Manfred quoted softly. 'The Lord has given it to us, and it is our sacred duty to keep it for our children. Nothing else is important compared to that duty." Shasa was silent. He had no argument with that sentiment, although the expression of it was embarrassingly theatrical.

'We have been given a paradise.-We must resist with our lives all efforts to despoil it, or to change it,' Manfred went on. 'And there are many who will attempt just that. They are gathering against us already. In the days ahead we will need strong men." Again Shasa was silent, but now his agreement was tinged with scepticism. Manfred turned to him.

'I see you smile,' he said seriously. 'You see no threat to what we have built up here on the tip of Africa?" 'As you have said, this land is a paradise. Who would want to change it?" Shasa asked.

'How many Africans to do you employ, Meneer?" Manfred seemed to change course.

'Almost thirty thousand altogether,' Shasa frowned with puzzlement.

'Then you will soon learn the poignancy of my warning,' Manfred grunted. 'There is a new generation of trouble-makers who have grown up amongst the native people. These are the bringers, of darkness. They have no respect for the old orders of society which our forefathers so carefully built up and which have served us so faithfully for so long. No, they want to tear all that down. As the Marxist monsters destroyed the social fabric of Russia, so they seek to destroy all that the white man has built up in Africa." Shasa's tone was disparaging as he replied. 'The vast bulk of our black peoples are happy and law-abiding. They are disciplined and accustomed to authority, their own tribal laws are every bit as strict and circumscribing as the laws we impose. How many agitators are there amongst them, and how great is their influence? Not many and not much, would be my guess." 'The world has changed more in the short time since the end o the war than it ever did in the hundred years before that." Manfrec had recovered his breath now, and he spoke forcefully and eloquent in his own language. 'The tribal laws which governed our black peoples are eroded as they leave the rural areas and flock to the cities in search of the sweet life. There they learn all the white man' vices, and they are ripened for the heresics of the bringers of darkness. The respect that they have for the white man and hi, government could easily turn to contempt, especially if they detecl any weakness in us. The black man respects strength and despise, weakness, and it is the plan of this new breed of black agitators to test our weaknesses and expose them." 'How do you know this?" Shasa asked and then immediately wa, angry with himself. He did not usually deal in banal questions, bul Manfred answered seriously.

'We have a comprehensive system of informers amongst the blacks it is the only way a police force can do its job efficiently. We kno that they are planning a massive campaign of defiance of the law especially those laws that have been introduced in the last few year, -the Group Areas Act and the Population Registration Act and the pass laws, the laws necessary to protect our complicated society frorr the evils of racial integration and miscegenation." 'What form will this campaign take?" 'Deliberate disobedience, flouting of the law, boycotts of white businesses and wild-cat strikes in mining and industry." Shasa frowned as he made his calculation. The campaign woulc directly threaten his companies. 'Sabotage?" he asked. 'Destructior of property – are they planning that?" Manfred shook his head. 'It seems not. The agitators are dividec amongst themselves. They even include some whites, some of the olc comrades from the communist party. There are a few amongst theft who favour violent action and sabotage, but apparently the majority are prepared to go only as far as peaceful protest – for the moment.

Shasa sighed with relief, and Manfred shook his head. 'Do not be too complacent, Meneer. If we fail to prevent them, if we sho weakness now, then it will escalate against us. Look what is happening in Kenya and Malaya." 'Why do you not simply round up the ringleaders now, before il happens?" 'We do not have such powers,' Manfred pointed out.

'Then you should damned well be given them." 'Ja, we need them to do our job, and soon we will have them. Bul in the meantime we must let the snake put its head out of the hole before we chop it off." 'When will the trouble begin?" Shasa demanded. 'I must make my arrangements to deal with the strikes and disturbances–' 'That is one thing we are not certain of, we do not think the ANC itself has as yet decided–' 'The ANC,' Shasa interjected. 'But surely they aren't behind this?

They have been around for forty years or so, and they are dedicated to peaceful negotiations. The leaders are decent men." 'They were,' Manfred corrected him. 'But the old leaders have been superseded by younger more dangerous men. Men like Mandela and Tambo and others even more evil. As I said before, times change – we must change with them." 'I had not realized that the threat was so real." 'Few people do,' Manfred agreed. 'But I assure you Meneer, that there is a nest of snakes breeding in our little paradise." They walked on in silence, down to the clay-surfaced airstrip where Shasa's blue and silver Mosquito stood. While Shasa climbed into the cockpit and readied the machine for flight, Manfred stood quietly at the wingtip watching him. After Shasa had completed all his checks, he came back to Manfred.

'There is one certain way to defeat this enemy,' Shasa said. 'This new militant ANC." 'What is that, Meneer?" 'To pre-empt their position. Take away from our black people the cause of complaint,' Shasa said.

Manfred was silent, but he stared at Shasa with those implacable yellow eyes. Then Manfred asked, picking his words carefully, 'Are you suggesting that we give the natives political rights, Meneer? Do you think that we should give in to the parrot cry of "One man, one vote" – is that what you believe, Meneer?" On Shasa's reply rested all Manfred's plans. He wondered if he could have been so wrong in his selection. Any man who believed that could never be a member of the National Party, let alone bear the responsibility of cabinet rank.

His relief was intense as Shasa dismissed the idea contemptuously.

'Good Lord, no! That would be the end of us and white civilization in the land. Blacks don't need votes, they need a slice of the pie. We must encourage the emergence of a black middle class, they will be our buffer against the revolutionaries. I never saw a man yet with a full belly and a full wallet who wanted to change things." Manfred chuckled. 'That's good, I like it. You are correct, Meneer.

We need massive wealth to pay for our concept of apartheM. It will be expensive, we accept that. That is why we have chosen you. We look to you to find the money to pay for our future." Shasa held out his hand and Manfred took it. 'On a personal level, Meneer, I am pleased to hear that your wife has taken notice of whatever you said to her. Reports from my special branch indicate that she has given up her liberal left wing associations and is no longer taking any part in political protests." 'I convinced her how futile they were,' Shasa smiled. 'She has decided to become an archaeologist instead of a Bolshevik." They laughed together, and Shasa climbed back into the .cockpit.

The engines started with a stuttering roar and a mist of blue smoke blew from the exhaust ports, clearing quickly. Shasa lifted a hand in salute and closed the canopy.

Manfred watched him taxi down to the end of the strip then come thundering back, and hurtle aloft in a flash of silver and blue. He shaded his eyes to watch the Mosquito bank away towards the south, and he felt again that strange almost mystic bond of blood and destiny to the man under the perspex canopy as Shasa waved in farewell. Though they had fought and hated each other, their separate people were bound together by a similar bond and at the same time held apart by religion and language and political beliefs.

'We are brothers, you and I,' he thought. 'And beyond the hatred lie the dictates of survival. If you join us, then other Englishmen may follow you, and neither of us can survive alone. Afrikaner and Englishman, we are so bound together that if one goes down, we both drown in the black ocean."' 'Garrick has to wear glasses,' Tara said, and poured esh coffee into Shasa's cup.

'Glasses?" He looked up from his newspaper. 'What do you mean glasses?" 'I mean eye glasses – spectacles. I took him to the optician while you were away. He is shortsighted." 'But nobody in our family has ever worn glasses." Shasa looked down the breakfast table at his son, and Garrick lowered his head guiltily. Until that moment he had not realized that he had disgraced the entire family. He had believed the humiliation of spectacles was his alone.

'Glasses." Shasa's scorn was undisguised. 'While you are having him fitted with glasses, you might as well get them to fit a cork in the end of his whistle to stop him wetting his bed also." Sean let out a guffaw and dug an elbow into his brother's ribs, and Garrick was stung into self-defence. 'Gee, Dad, I haven't wet my bed since last Easter,' he declared furiously, red-faced with embarrassment and close to tears of humiliation.

Sean made circles with his thumbs and forefingers and peered through them at his brother.

'We will have to call you "Owly Wet Sheets",' he suggested, and as usual Michael came to his brother's defence.

'Owls are wise,' he pointed out reasonably. 'That's why Garry came top in his class this term. Where did you come in yours, Sean?".

and Sean glared at him wordlessly. Michael always had a mild but stinging retort.

'All right, gentlemen." Shasa returned to his newspaper. 'No bloodshed at the breakfast table, please." Isabella had been out of the limelight for long enough. Her father had given far too much of his attention to her brothers, and she hadn't yet received her dues. Her father had arrived home late the previous evening, long after she was in bed, and the traditional ceremony of home-coming had not been fully enacted. Certainly he had kissed and pampered her and told her how beautiful she was, but one vital aspect had been neglected, and though she knew it was bad manners to ask, she had contained herself long enough.

'Didn't you even bwing me a pwesent?" she piped, and Shasa lowered his newspaper again.

'A pwesent? Now what on earth is a pwesent?" 'Don't be a silly-billy, Daddy – you know what it is." 'Bella, you know you mustn't beg for presents,' Tara chided.

'If I don't tell him, Daddy might just forget,' Isabella pointed out reasonably, and made her special angel face at Shasa.

'My goodness gracious me." Shasa snapped his fingers. 'I did almost forget!" And Isabella hopped her lace-clad bottom up and down on her high stool with excitement. 'You did You did bring me one!" 'Finish your porridge first,' Tara insisted, and Isabella's spoon clanked industriously on china as she devoured the last of it and scraped the plate clean.

They all trooped though from the breakfast room to Shasa's study.

'I'm the likklest one. I get my pwesent first." Isabella made up the rules of life as she went along.

'All right, likklest one. Step to the front of the line, please." Her face a masterpiece of concentration, Isabella stripped away the wrappings from her gift.

'A doll!" she squeaked and showered kisses upon its bland china face. 'Her name is Oleander, and I love her already." Isabella was the owner of what was probably one of the world's definitive collections of dolls, but all additions were rapturously received.

When Sean and Garry were handed their long packages, they went still with awe. They knew what they were – they had both of them pleaded long and eloquently for this moment and now that it had arrived, they were reluctant to touch their gifts in case they disappeared in a puff of smoke. Michael hid his disappointment bravely; he had hoped for a book, so secretly he empathized with his mother when she cried with exasperation, 'Oh, Shasa, you haven't given them guns?" All three rifles were identical. They were Winchester repeaters in .22 calibre, light enough for the boys to handle.

'This is the best present anybody ever gave me." Sean lifted his weapon out of the cardboard box and stroked the walnut stock lovingly.

The too." Garrick still couldn't bring himself to touch his. He knelt over the open package in the middle of the study floor, staring raptly at the weapon it contained.

'It's super, Dad,' said Michael, holding his rifle awkwardly and his smile was unconvincing.

'Don't use that word, Mickey,' Tara snapped. 'It's so American and vulgar." But she was angry with Shasa, not Michtel.

'Look." Garry touched his rifle for the first time. 'My name – it's got my own name on it." He stroked the engraving on the barrel with his fingertip, then looked up at his father with myopic adoration.