Текст книги "Power of the Sword"

Автор книги: Wilbur Smith

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The shipment of goods that Twenty-man-Jones referred to was the parcel of diamonds on which her fortune hinged. Their demands, if pandered to, would render the H'ani Mine unprofitable. Who was this Gerhard Fourie, she wondered, and then remembered he was the chief transport driver.

She went to the door and opened it. Her secretary was waiting in the corridor.

Ask Mr Abrahams to come to me. When Abe stepped through the door she handed him the telegraph flimsy.

They don't have the right to do this to me, she said fiercely, and waited impatiently while he read it through.

Unfortunately, Centaine, they do have the right. Under the Industrial Conciliation Act of 1924

Don't spout acts at me now, Abe, she cut him off. They are a bunch of bolsheviks biting the hand that feeds them!

Centaine, don't do anything hasty. If we were to Abe, get the Daimler offloaded from the truck immediately and send Dr Twenty-man-Jones a telegraph. Tell him I'm coming and he is to do nothing, make no concessions nor promises until I arrive. You'll leave in the morning, of course? I will not, she snapped. I will leave in half an hour from now, just as soon as my guests have gone and you have the Daimler detrained. litis one in the morning, He saw her face and abandoned that fine of protest. I'll telegraph the staff at the first staging station to expect you. Just tell them to be ready to refuel. I won't be staying over. I'm driving straight through to the mine. And she went to the door, paused to compose herself and then, smiling easily, went back into the saloon.

Is something wrong, Mrs Courtney? The smile had not deceived Blaine Malcomess, and he rose to his feet. Is there anything I can do to help you? Oh, just a small nuisance. Trouble out at the mine. I have to go back there right away. Not tonight, surely? Yes, tonight 'On your own? He was troubled, and his concern pleased her. it's a long hard journey. I prefer to travel alone. Then she added with a meaningful intensity, Or to chose my travelling companion with great care. She paused, then went on, Some of my employees have called a strike. It's unreasonable and they have no case to justify their action. I'm certain that I can smooth it over.

However, sometimes these things get out of hand. There might be violence, or vandalism!

Quickly Blaine reassured her. I can guarantee you full government cooperation. A police detachment could be sent to maintain the peace, if you so wish!

Thank you. I would appreciate that. Knowing that I can call upon you is a great relief and comfort!

I will arrange it first thing tomorrow, he said. But of course it will take a few days! Again they were behaving as though they were alone; their voices were low and filled with significance beyond what the words suggested.

Darling, we should leave Mrs Courtney to prepare for her journey. Isabella spoke from her chair and he started as though he had forgotten she were there.

Yes, of course. We will leave at once. Centaine went with them down the railway platform to where Blaine's Chevrolet tourer was parked beneath the single streetlight. She walked beside Isabella's wheelchair.

I did so enjoy meeting you, Mrs Malcomess, and I'd love to meet your girls. Won't you bring them out to Weltevreden when next you are in Cape Town? I don't know when that will be, Isabella refused politely.

My husband will be immersed in his new appointment. They reached the waiting vehicle and while the chauffeur held the rear door open, Blaine lifted Isabella from the chair and seated her on the leather seat. He closed the door carefully and turned to Centaine. His back was to his wife, and the chauffeur was loading the wheelchair into the boot. They were alone for the time being.

She is a courageous and wonderful woman, he said softly as he took Centaine's hand. I love her and can never leave her, but I wish -he broke off and his grip on her fingers was painful.

Yes, Centaine answered as softly. I also wish, and she revelled in the pain of his grip. He ended it too soon for her and went around to the opposite side of the Chevrolet, while Centaine stooped to the crippled girl at the open window.

Please do remember my invitation, she began, but Isabella thrust her face closer and the serene and beautiful mask cracked so that the terror and the hatred showed through.

He's mine, she said. And I won't let you have him. Then she leaned back in her seat and Blaine slid in beside her and took her hand.

The Chevrolet pulled away, the official pennant on the bonnet fluttering, and Centaine stood under the streetlight and stared after it until the headlights faded.

Lothar De La Rey slept with the earphones of the telegraph tap on the sheepskin roll beside his head, so that the first bleep of the transmission woke him and he snatched up the headset and called to Swart Hendrick. Light the candle, Hennie, they are transmitting. At this time of night it must be important. Yet he was still unprepared for the import of the message when he scribbled it out in his notebook: 'Strike Committee headed by Gerhard Fourie has called out all white employees Lothar was stunned by Twenty-man-jones message.

Gerhard Fourie. What on earth is that miserable bastard playing at, he asked himself aloud, and then leapt up and went out of the dugout to pace agitatedly in the loose sand of the river-bed while he attempted to work it out.

A strike, why would he call a strike now? Shipment of goods embargoed. That has to mean the diamonds. The strikers are refusing to let the diamonds leave the mine. He stopped suddenly and punched his fist into his own palm.

That's it. That's what it's all about. He has called the strike to worm himself out of our bargain. His nerve has given in, but he knows I will kill him for it. This is his way out.

He isn't going to cooperate. The whole thing has fallen through., He stood out in the river-bed and a dark impotent rage overwhelmed him.

All the risks I have taken, all the time and work and hardship. The theft of the horses, all for nothing, all wasted because of one yellow-bellied If Fourie had been there he would have shot him down without compunction.

Baas! Hendrick yelled urgently. Come quickly! The telegraph! Lothar sprinted back to the dugout and snatched up the headset. The operator at the Courtney Mining and Finance Company in Windhoek was transmitting.

For Vingt. I am returning with all speed. Stop. Make no concessions nor promises. Stop. See that all loyal employees are armed and protected from intimidation. Stop. Assure them of my gratitude and material appreciation. Stop. Close the company store immediately, no food or supplies to be sold to strikers or their families. Stop. Cut off water reticulation and electricity supply to strikers cottages. Stop.

Inform Strike Committee that police detachment enroute.

Ends. Juno. Despite himself and his rage at Fourie, Lothar threw back his head and laughed with delight and admiration.

Fourie and his strikers don't realize what they are taking on, he roared. By God, I'd prefer to tickle an angry black mamba with a short stick than get in Centaine Courtney's way right now. He sobered and thought about it for a while, then he told Hendrick and Manfred quietly, I have a feeling that those diamonds will be coming through to Windhoek, strike or no strike. But I don't think Fourie will be driving the truck, in fact I don't give Fourie much chance of driving anything again. So we won't have a nice polite cooperative escort to hand the package over to us as we had planned. But the diamonds will be coming through, and we are going to be here when they do. The yellow Daimler passed their position at eleven o'clock the following night. Lothar watched the glow of the headlights gradually harden into solid white beams of light that swept across the plain towards him and then dipped and disappeared into the river-bed only to blaze up into the moonless sky as the Daimler pointed its nose up the cutting and climbed out of the river-bed again. The engine bellowed in low gear on the steep incline and then settled to a high whine as it shot over the top and sped away into the northeast towards the H'ani Mine.

Lothar struck a match and checked his watch. Say she left Windhoek an hour after her telegraph last night, that means she has reached here in twenty-two hours straight driving, over these roads in the dark. He whistled softly. If she keeps going like that, she'll be at the H'ani Mine before noon tomorrow. It doesn't seem possible. The blue hills rose out of the heat mirage ahead of Centaine, but this time their magic was unable to captivate her. She had been at the wheel for thirty-two hours with only brief intervals of rest while she refuelled at the staging posts, and once when she had pulled to the side of the road and slept for two hours.

She was tired. The weariness ached in the marrow of her bones, burned her eyes like acid and lay upon her shoulders and crushed her down in the leather seat of the Daimler as though she wore a suit of heavy chain mail. Yet her anger fuelled her, and when she saw the galvanized iron roofs of the mine buildings shining in the sun her weariness dropped away.

She stopped the Daimler and stepped down in the road to stretch and swing her arms, forcing fresh blood into her stiff stret limbs. Then she twisted the rearview mirror and examined her face in it. Her eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed with little wet balls of mud and mucus in the corners. Her face was deathly white, powdered with pale dust and drained of blood by her fatigue.

She wet a cloth with cool water from the canvas water bag and cleaned the dust from her skin. Then from her toilet bag she took the bottle of eyewash and little blue eye-bath. She bathed her eyes. They were clear and bright again when she checked in the mirror, and she patted her pale cheeks until the blood rouged them. She readjusted the scarf around her head, stripped off the full-length white dust-jacket that protected her clothes and she looked clean and rested and ready for trouble.

There were little groups of women and children gathered at the corners of the avenues. They watched her sullenly and a little apprehensively as she drove past them on the way to the administration building. She sat straightbacked behind the wheel and looked directly ahead.

As she neared the office, she saw the pickets who had been lolling under the thorn tree outside the gates hastily reorganizing themselves.

There were twenty at least, most of the able-bodied white artisans on the mine. They formed a line across the road and linked arms facing her. Their faces were ugly and threatening.

Nothing goes in! Nothing goes out, they began to chant as she slowed. She saw that most of them had armed themselves with clubs and pick handles.

Centaine thrust the palm of her hand down on the button and the Daimler's horn squealed like a wounded bull elephant and she drove hard at the centre of the picket line with the accelerator pedal pressed to the floorboards. The men in the centre saw her face behind the windshield and realized that she would run them down. At the last minute they scattered.

one of them yelled, We want our jobs! and swung his pick handle against the rear window. The glass starred and collapsed over the leather seat, but Centaine was through.

She pulled up in front of the verandah just as Twenty-man-Jones hurried out of his office struggling with his jacket and necktie.

We weren't expecting you until tomorrow at the very earliest. 'Your friends were. She pointed at the shattered window, and his voice went shrill with indignation.

They attacked you? That's unforgivable. I agree, she said. 'And I'm not going to be the one who does the forgiving. Twenty-man-jones wore a huge service pistol bolstered on his skinny hip.

Behind him was little Mr Brantingham, the mine bookkeeper, his head bald as an ostrich egg and much too large for his narrow rounded shoulders. Behind his gold-rimmed pince-nez; he was close to tears, but he carried a double-barrelled shotgun in his pudgy white hands.

You are a brave man, Centaine told him. I won't forget your loyalty. She led Twenty-man-Jones into her office and sat down thankfully at her desk. How many other men are with us? Only the office staff, eight of them. The artisans and mine staff are all out, though I suspect there has been pressure on some of them. Even Rodgers and Maclear? They were her senior overseers. Are they out also? I'm afraid so. Both of them are on the strike committee. 'With Fourie?

The three of them are the ringleaders. I'll see that they never work again, she said bitterly, and he dropped his eyes and mumbled: I think we have to bear in mind that they haven't broken the law. They have the legal right to withhold their labour, and to bargain collectively Not when I am struggling to keep the mine running. Not when I am trying to ensure that there will be jobs for at least some of them. Not after all I've done for them., I'm afraid they do have that right,he insisted.

Whose side are you on, Dr TWentyman-jones? He looked stricken. 'You should never have to ask that question, he said. From the first day we met I've been your man. You know that. I was merely pointing out your legal position. Immediately contrite, Centaine stood up and reached for his arm to console him.

Forgive me. I'm tired and jumpy. She had stood up too quickly and the blood drained from her head. She turned deathly pale and swayed giddily on her feet. He seized her and steadied her.

When did you last sleep? You have driven from Windhoek without rest. He led her to the leather sofa and forced her gently down upon it.

You are going to sleep now, for at least eight hours. I'll have fresh clothes brought down from your bungalow., I must speak to the ringleaders. No. He shook his head as he drew the curtains. Not until you are refreshed and strong again. Otherwise you could make mistakes of judgement. She sagged back and pressed her fingers into her closed eyelids. You are right, as always., I'll wake you at six this evening, and I'll inform the strike committee that you will interview them at eight. That will give us two hours to plan our strategy. The three members of the strike committee filed into Centaine's office, and she stared at them for fully three minutes without speaking. She had deliberately had all the chairs removed except those in which she and Twenty-man-Jones sat. The strikers were forced to stand before her like schoolboys.

There are over a hundred thousand men out of work in this country at the present time, she said in a dispassionate voice. Any one of whom would go down on his knees for your jobs. That won't bloody work, said Maclear. He was a nondescript-looking man, of medium height and uncertain age, but Centaine knew he was quick-witted, tenacious and resourceful. She wished he was with her rather than against.

If you are going to use foul language in front of me, Mr Maclear, she said, you can leave immediately. That won't work either, Mrs Courtney. He smiled sadly in acknowledgement of her spirit. You know our rights, and we know our rights. Centaine looked at Rodgers. How is your wife, Mr Rodgers? A year previously she had paid for the woman to travel to Johannesburg for urgent treatment by one of the leading abdominal surgeons in the Union. Rodgers had gone with her on full pay, and all expenses paid.

She's well, Mrs Courtney, he said sheepishly.

What does she think of this nonsense of yours? He looked down at his feet. She's a sensible lady, Centaine went on.

I would think she is worrying about her three little ones. We are all together, Fourie cut in. We are all solid, and the women are behind us. You can forget all that, Mr Fourie, please do not interrupt me when I am speaking. Playing the high and mighty lady muck-a-muck around here is going to get you nowhere, he blustered. 'We've got you and your bloody mine and your bloody diamonds over a barrel. You are the one who has got to do the listening when we speak, and that's the plain fact of the matter. He grinned cockily and looked to his mates for approbation. The grin concealed his trepidation. On one side he had Lothar De La Rey and his threat. If he could not come up with a good enough excuse for not performing his obligations he knew he was a dead man. He had to aggravate the strike until someone else transported the diamonds and gave him an escape. You aren't going to get one single bloody diamond off this property until we say so, lady. We're keeping them here as hostages. We know you've got a really whopping packet sitting there in the strongroom, and that's where it will stay, until you listen to what we have to say. He was a good enough judge of character to guess what Centaine Courtney's reaction to that threat would be.

Centaine studied his face intently. There was something that did not ring true, something devious and convoluted in his manner. He was being too deliberately aggressive and provocative.

All right, she agreed quietly. I'll listen. Tell me what you want. She sat quietly while Fourie read the list of demands.

Her face was impassive, the only signs of her anger that TWentyman-Jones knew so well were the soft flush of blood that stained her throat and the steady rhythmic tap of her foot on the wooden floor.

Fourie reached the end of the reading and there was another long silence. Then he proffered the document.

This is your copy. Put it on my desk, she ordered, disdaining to touch it.

The people that were retrenched from this mine last month were given three months pay in lieu of notice, she said, Three times more than they were entitled to, you know that. They were all given good letters of reference, you know that also. They are our mates, Fourie said stubbornly. Some of them our family. All right. She nodded. 'You have made your position clear. You may leave now. She rose and they looked at one another in consternation.

Aren't you going to give us an answer? Maclear asked.

Eventually, she nodded.

When will that be? When I am ready and not before. They filed towards the door, but before he reached it, Maclear turned back and faced her defiantly.

They've closed the company store and cut off the water and electricity to our cottages, he challenged her.

On my orders, she agreed.

You can't do that. I don't see why not. I own the store, the generator, the pumphouse and the cottages. We've got wives and children to feed. You should have thought about them before you started your strike!

We can take what we want, you know. Even your diamonds. You can't stop us. Make me a very happy woman, she invited. Do it. Break into the store and steal the goods from the shelves. Dynamite the strongroom and take my diamonds. Assault my loyal people. Nothing would please me more than to see the three of you in gaol for life, or dancing on the gallows tree!

As soon as they were alone again, she turned to Twenty-man-Jones.

He is right. The first and only consideration is the diamonds. I have to get them safely into the bank vaults in Windhoek. We can send them in under police escort, he agreed, but she shook her head.

It might take five more days for the police to reach here.

There is all sorts of red tape before they can move. No, I want those diamonds away from here before dawn. You know the insurance doesn't cover riot and civil disturbance.

If something happens to them I will be ruined, Dr Twenty-man-Jones.

They are my lifeblood. I cannot risk them falling into the hands of these ignorant arrogant brutes. Tell me what you intend. I want you to take the Daimler round to its garage in the rear. Have it refuelled and checked. We will load the diamonds through the back door. She pointed across her office to the concealed door she used sometimes when she wished to avoid being seen entering or leaving. At midnight when the pickets are asleep you will cut the barbed-wire fence directly opposite the garage door. Good. He was following her intentions. 'That will let us out into the sanitary lane. The pickets are at the main gates on the opposite side of the compound. They haven't posted anyone on the rear side. Once we are clear of the lane it's a straight run out onto the main road to Windhoek, we'll be clear in a matter of seconds. Not we, Dr Twenty-man-Jones, she said, and he stared at her.

You don't intend going alone? he asked.

I have just made the journey alone, swiftly and with not the least sign of trouble. I anticipate no problem with the return. I need you here. You know I cannot leave the mine to Brantingham or one of the clerks. You have to be here to deal with these strikers. Without you they may wreck the plant or sabotage the workings. It would only take a stick or two of dynamite. He wiped his face with his open hand, from forehead to chin, in an agony of indecision, torn between two duties: the mine which he had built up from nothing and which was his pride, and the woman who he loved as dearly as a daughter or a wife he had never had. At last he sighed. She was right, it had to be that way.

Then take one of the men with you, he pleaded.

Brantingham, bless him? she asked, raising her eyebrows, and he threw up both hands as he saw how ridiculous that idea was.

I'll take the Daimler around to the back, he said. Then I'll get a telegraph through to Abe in Windhoek. He can send out an escort immediately to meet you on the road, that is if the strikers haven't cut the wires yet. Don't send that until I am clear, Centaine instructed.

The strikers may just have had enough sense to have put a tap on the line, in fact that is probably why they have not cut it yet. Twenty-man-Jones nodded. Very well. What time do you intend breaking out? Three o'clock tomorrow morning, she said, without hesitation. it was the hour when human vitality was at its lowest ebb. That was when the strike picket would be least prepared for swift reaction.

Very well, Mrs Courtney. I will have my cook prepare you a light dinner, and then I suggest you get some rest. I will have everything ready and wake you at two-thirty. She woke the instant he touched her shoulder and sat up.

Half past two o'clock, Twenty-man-Jones said. The Daimler is refuelled and the diamonds loaded. The barbed wire is cut. I have drawn you a bath and there is a selection of fresh clothes from the bungalow. I will be ready in fifteen minutes, she said.

They stood beside the Daimler in the darkened garage and spoke in whispers. The double doors were open, and there was a crescent moon lighting the yard.

I have marked the gap in the wire. Twenty-man-Jones pointed and she saw the small white flags drooping from the barbed wire strands fifty yards away.

The canisters of industrial diamonds are in the boot, but I have put the package of top stones on the passenger seat beside you. He leaned through the open window and patted the black despatch box. It was the size and shape of a small suitcase, but of japanned steel with a brass lock.

Good. Centaine buttoned her dust-jacket and pulled on her soft dog-skin driving gauntlets.

The shotgun is loaded with Number Ten bird-shot, so you can fire at anybody who tries to stop you without risk of committing murder. It'll just give them a good sting. But if you mean business, there is a box of buckshot in the glove compartment. Centaine slid in behind the wheel and pulled the door closed gently so as not to alert a listener out in the silent night. She placed the double-barrelled shotgun on top of the diamond chest and cocked both hammers.

There is a basket in the boot, sandwiches and a Thermos of coffee. She looked at him out of the side window and said seriously, 'You are my tower. Don't let anything happen to you, he said. A pox on the diamonds, we can dig more of them. You are unique, there's only one of you. Impulsively he unbuckled the service revolver from around his waist and leaned into the Daimler to Push it into the pocket at the back of the driver's seat.

It's the only insurance I can offer you. Remember there is a cartridge under the hammer, he said. Pray you never need it. He stepped back and gave her a laconic salute. God speed! She started the Daimler and the great seven-litre engine rumbled softly. She flipped of the hand-brake, switched on the headlights and gunned the Daimler out through the open doors and across the yard, going up through the gears in a deft series of racing changes.

She aimed the mascot on the bonnet between the white markers, roared through the gap in the fence at forty miles an hour, and felt a loose strand of barbed wire scrape down the side of the coachwork. Then she tramped down on the brake and spun the wheel, steering the front wheels onto the dusty lane, meeting the skid and then going flat on the accelerator pedal again. She shot down the lane with the Daimler roaring at full power.

Above the engine she heard faint shouts and saw the dark indistinct figures of a mob of strikers racing down the fence from the main gate to try and intercept her at the corner of the lane. She picked up the shotgun and thrust the double muzzles through the window beside her. In the headlights the faces of the running men were ugly with rage, their mouths dark pits as they shouted at her.

Two of them were swifter than their mates, and they reached the corner of the lane just as the Daimler came level.

one of the strikers flung his pick handle and it cartwheeled through the beam of the headlights and clanged off the bonnet.

Centaine depressed the shotgun, aiming for their legs, and fired both barrels, with long spurts of orange flame and blurts of sound. Bird-shot lashed their legs and the strikers howled with shock and pain and leapt off the road as Centaine roared past them and turned onto the main road down the slope and out into the desert.

For Pettifogger. Urgent and Imperative. Juno un-accompanied departed this end 3 am instant carrying goods. Stop.

immediately despatch armed escort to intercept her enroute. Ends. Vingt.

Lothar De La Rey stared at the message he had copied onto his pad by the guttering flame of the candle.

Unaccompanied, he whispered. Juno unaccompanied.

Carrying goods. By Christ Almighty, she's coming through alone, with the diamonds. He calculated swiftly. She left the mine at three am. She'll be here an hour or so after noon. He left the dugout and climbed the bank. He found a place to sit and lit one of his precious cheroots. He looked at the sky, watching the crescent moon sink into the desert. When the dawn turned the eastern horizon into a peacock's tail of colour, he went down to the camp and blew flame from last night's ashes.

Swart Hendrick came out of the dugout and went to urinate noisily in the sand. He came back to the fire buttoning his breeches, yawning widely and sniffing the coffee in the billy.

We are changing the plan, Lothar told him, and Hendrick blinked and became warily attentive.

Why?, The woman is bringing the diamonds through alone. She won't give in easily. I don't want her hurt in any way. I wouldn't,

The hell you wouldn't. When you get excited, you shoot, Lothar cut him off brusquely. But that's not the only reason. He ticked off the others on his fingers. First: one woman alone requires only one man. I have time enough to re-rig the ropes to bring down the boulders into the cutting from my position. Two: the woman knows you, it doubles the risk of having us recognized. Three, he paused, the true reason was that he wanted to be alone with Centaine again.

it would be the last time. He would never be coming back this way again. We will do it this way because I say we will. You will stay here with Manfred and the horses, ready to ride as soon as I have done the job., Hendrick shrugged. I will help you rig the ropes, he grunted.

Centaine stopped the Daimler at the head of the cutting and left the engine running as she jumped out onto the runningboard and surveyed the crossing.

Her own outward tracks were still clear and sharp and untouched in the soft lemon-coloured dust. There had been no other traffic through the drift since she had passed the night before last. She unhooked the water bag and drank three mouthfuls, and then corked it again and hung it on the spare wheel bracket, climbed back into the cab, slammed the door and let off the hand-brake.

She let the Daimler trundle down the incline, swiftly gathering speed, when suddenly there was a rush of earth and rock, a swirling cloud of dust obscured the cutting directly ahead of her and she hit the brake hard.

The bank had collapsed on one side, and had almost filled the cutting with rock and loose earth.

Merde! she swore. It would mean a delay while she cleared the rubble or found another place to cross. She snapped the Daimler into reverse and twisted in her seat looking back through the missing rear window that the striker had knocked out, preparing to back up the incline, and she felt the first flutter of alarm against her ribs.

The bank had collapsed behind the Daimler also, sliding down in a soft churned ramp. She was trapped in the cutting, and she leaned out of the open window and looked about her anxiously, coughing in the dust that still billowed around her vehicle.

As it cleared she saw that the road ahead was only partially blocked. On the opposite side to the landslide there was still a narrow gap, not sufficient for the wide track of the Daimler to get through, but there was a spade strapped to the roof-rack. A few hours work in the burning sun should clear the way enough for her to work the Daimler through, but the setback galled her. She reached for the door handle, then a premonition of danger stopped her hand and she looked up the bank beside her.

There was a man standing at the top of the rise, looking down at her. His boots at the level of her eyes were scuffed and white with dust. There were dark sweat patches on his blue shirt. He was a tall man, but he had the lean hard look of a soldier or a hunter. However, it was the rifle that he carried across his hip, pointing down into her face and the mask he wore that terrified her.