Hyena Dawn (63 page)

‘
Only things went wrong for him,’ said Deon, smiling grimly, ‘and you three got out alive, bringing these documents with you. And being the sort of man you are, Rayne, you’re no doubt going to avenge the deaths of those eighteen good men left behind in Mozambique.’

It was Rayne’s turn to look grim. ‘We tried - and we failed. Didn’t we, Lois?’ Stern-faced, Lois nodded.

Rayne lifted his head and looked Deon straight in the eyes. ‘But don’t imagine we’ve finished trying. I’ll get him yet. There are more copies of our Beira story than the one you’re holding, and I think they could be put to good use . . .’ He smiled. ‘But Deon - and Sonja - it’s not really John Fry that we’ve come here to talk to you about, it’s Bernard Aschaar. This second agreement here makes it plain that he’s an extremely dangerous and devious operator, but we have far more evidence of his corrupt and evil doings than this - and I gather from Sam that you’ve suffered severely at his hands too?’

Deon and Sonja looked at each other. Sam saw their hands meet, and Deon give Sonja’s a gentle squeeze. It was obvious that they were very much in love - no need to wonder any longer about the reason for Sonja’s new gentle glow of happiness.

‘
It won’t be easy for either of us to talk about it,’ said Deon. ‘The damage the bastard has done to both our lives is immense. But we want to see him put away where he can’t do anyone any more harm, so if you want to hear about what he did to us - what do you think, Sonja?’

Sonja nodded, her eyes bright. ‘Let me get everyone another drink before we begin.’

And so they told the story of their involvement with Aschaar. Deon recounted his investigation of the burglary at Aschaar’s house and how it had led him to Sonja. He told of Aschaar’s obvious partnership with his police boss, General Muller, and how, following Muller’s murder of a suspect in the cells, his marriage had been destroyed and his police career sabotaged in order to intimidate him into keeping silent. He told briefly, with suppressed emotion, of the murder of his brother Pieter. Then Sonja told them about herself, and about Helen, and what Aschaar and Jay Golden had done to them. Finally she talked about Bernard’s ruthless and megalomaniac plans for the South African mining industry.

When they had finished, there was a long silence. Then Lois said, ‘It doesn’t sound much after what you’ve been through, but I’ve had dealings with Mr Bernard Aschaar too,’ and he told them how he had been bribed to sabotage the plane carrying Penelope O’Keefe, and of the dreadful consequences.

‘
What an appalling catalogue of evil,’ said Sam at last. ‘And think how many others must also have suffered at his hands!’

‘
The thing is,’ said Rayne, ‘what are we going to do about him? What I want to know first is, are you two with me?’

‘
You hardly need to ask the question,’ said Sonja, smiling. ‘Of course we are.’

‘
Good. Next question: what sort of action shall we take?’

‘
I’m in favour of a straight assassination,’ said Deon. ‘High- powered rifle with a telescopic sight. I’ll do it. Probably go for a night shot, just as he’s going into his house.’

‘
Cold-blooded.’

‘
After what he’s done, I think it’s a pretty painless way to go, Rayne.’

‘
And it means descending to his level.’

‘
That’s true.’

‘
I want to see the bastard publicly humiliated and brought to justice.’ Rayne leaned forward. ‘Listen, here’s my plan. I’ve arranged with Sir George O’Keefe, the mining magnate, to play the part of his negotiator, and I’ve got an appointment to see Bernard Aschaar at eight o’clock tomorrow evening. I’m taking Lois with me, and I want you to come too, Deon - and then I want all three of us to confront Bernard Aschaar with his crimes, and you, Deon, to make a legal arrest.’

‘
How do we get past security?’

Rayne grinned. ‘Surely between us we’ve had enough experience of skulduggery to be able to get past a few security men.’ ‘Are we armed?’ asked Lois.

Rayne thought for a moment. ‘I think we have to be. I don’t want to use force - it’s to be a last resort - but Bernard Aschaar’s the sort of man I just don’t want to confront without a pistol in my belt.’

Sam cleared her throat. ‘May I ask a question?’

‘
Go ahead.’

‘
What about us?’

‘
What do you mean, what about us?’

Sam said, ‘I mean, there’s no way that Sonja and I are going to be left out of this, is there, Sonja?’

‘
No chance,’ said Sonja. She looked at Deon. ‘You know I have to come,’ she said. ‘You know I have to confront him.’ ‘OK,’ said Rayne. ‘All right. Change of plan. Deon, Sonja and I go up to the meeting with Aschaar. Lois, you and Sam wait downstairs for us in reception, just in case we need a bit of backup.’

‘
Just a minute,’ said Lois, ‘I don’t know that I like that.’

‘
Lois, you’re the best back-up I ever had. Now don’t quarrel with it.’

‘
All right. Whatever you say.’

There was a small pause. ‘That’s it, then,’ said Deon. ‘We’re all set.’

‘
I’ll get some wine,’ said Sonja, ‘and we’ll drink to the destruction of Bernard Aschaar and all his works.’

There would be no sunset in Johannesburg that evening. At six o’clock the sky was packed with dark cloud, the air was hot and heavy. City workers, making their way home, looked up now

and then in the expectation of rain, but the threatening storm obstinately refused to break.

In his office at the top of the Goldcorp Building, Bernard Aschaar felt uneasy, he didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the weather. Perhaps it was because he had come so close to death in the plane when he left Beira. But he had genuine cause to worry, as he well knew. His sources in Mozambique had informed him that the attack on the airport and the fuel depot could not have been mounted from Rhodesia - so who was behind it? His sources had also told him about the raid on the Beira bank and the disappearance of the agreement he had signed with Vorotnikov ... He had the uncomfortable sense of another force, a power he did not know about, working behind the scenes, and he did not like it at all. He would have to be on his guard.

A tall blonde woman in a skin-tight dress walked into the room.

‘
Will there be anything else, Mr Aschaar?’

Bernard ran his eyes over her for the twentieth time that day. Jay had said she was ‘a good lay’. ‘No thank you, Rae. You can go now. And you’re clear about your duties next week, aren’t you?’

‘
I think so, Mr Aschaar. May I wish you a pleasant trip?’ She gave him the full benefit of her smile.

‘
Indeed you may. Good night.’

This evening, Bernard was going to London for a week. As soon as he’d seen O’Keefe’s agent, the helicopter would pick him up from the roof of the building and take him to the airport in time for the nine-thirty flight.

Alone again, Bernard got up and walked to the window. Below him Johannesburg was bathed in the lurid light of the approaching storm. He wanted control of this city - control of it through its most precious and revered property, gold, the yellow metal that had fascinated men for centuries. If it had been just a question of money, he would have bought control years ago - but certain people refused to be bought. Here perhaps was another source of his unease: Sonja Seyton-Waugh and her association with Major-General Deon de Wet.

Aschaar had sensed de Wet was trouble from the moment he started investigating the theft of the photographs from his house. According to Muller, he was an honest cop on a moral crusade - nothing more dangerous. After he’d had Pieter de Wet murdered, Deon had seemed to get the message for a time, and stayed quiet. But it hadn’t lasted long. He’d been harassing the Goldcorp Group in general, and Bernard in particular, whenever there was the least opportunity; and Bernard was sure that it was Deon who was giving Sonja the courage to resist his blackmail threats. It was all thoroughly unsettling.

Bernard turned restlessly from the window and walked back to his desk. He’d ring General Muller, have a word with him about stepping up security. He’d been meaning to do it for some time, anyway. He picked up the phone and dialled the General’s home number.

‘
Hallo, Piet, it’s Bernard here. How are things . . . ? I want to talk to you about security, Piet. I’m going away tonight, for a week or so, and I’d like to have a word with you before I go. Can you come here, about eight-fifteen this evening?’

Bernard paused, to let Muller tell him at some length that most unfortunately he had a prior engagement. ‘No, Piet,’ said Bernard when he had finished, ‘I’m quite sure that in fact you will be able to come, and I shall look forward to seeing you in a couple of hours’ time.’

There was a short silence on the other end of the line, then Muller said shortly that he’d be there. Bernard put the phone down with a smile. He had enough dirt on the General to make him dance to any tune he chose.

Through the big plate-glass windows the sky now had a bruised and angry look. Bernard viewed the worsening weather with concern.

There was a knock on the door, and a man in pilot’s uniform entered. ‘Mr Aschaar, I just came to tell you that I’ll be ready for take-off from eight-thirty onwards.’

‘
What about the storm?’

‘
Naturally, if the rain’s very heavy I’ll wait a bit before takeoff. But it shouldn’t trouble us otherwise, sir.’

‘
Good. I’ll see you later, then.’

When the pilot had left the room, Bernard went to the wall and pushed a button concealed at the side of one of the panels. Immediately a large safe was revealed. He typed in the electronic combination number and the door was open within seconds. He counted out R500,000 in used notes.

That, he thought, would be more than enough to bring Sir George’s lackey round to his own way of thinking. He closed the safe and the panel, placing the money in an antique silver box on a side-table. Then he sat down at his desk and opened the file on the take-over of Sir George’s mining interests. Pleasant to contemplate the further expansion of his empire; there could be no happier way of passing the next couple of hours.

Outside the windows of his office, the storm clouds continued to gather, but still it did not rain.

On the very top floor of the Goldcorp Building, the Goldens, father and son, faced each other.

Jay said, ‘What I want, Father, is that you should sack Bernard Aschaar.’

Max Golden stared across the desk at his son. He said nothing. Jay swallowed hard. He was still standing in front of the desk - his father had not asked him to sit down. He went on, ‘When we met in London, Father, you said you’d think of handing the company over to me at the end of the year as long as I didn’t make any mistakes. Well - ’ he paused, and stared defiantly at the man across the desk - ‘I think I’ve done pretty well, and now I think it’s time I had my reward.’

An evil smile crossed Max Golden’s face, and he gestured for Jay to sit down. The stormy red light, reflected in the office’s huge windows, cast an eerie glow across the old man’s face.

‘
Forgive me if I’m wrong,’ he said, ‘but didn’t you tell me then, when I saw you in London, that Sonja Seyton-Waugh was as good as finished?’

‘
Well, yes, Father, but - ’

‘
I don’t see any sign of her being finished, Jay, do you? Have you got those photographs from Bernard, as you promised me you would?’

‘
I haven’t yet, but - ’

‘
And that policeman who’s on our backs all the time - de Wet, isn’t it? Major-General de Wet? - didn’t you tell me then that it was only a matter of days before you had him eliminated?’

‘
Father - ’

‘
And has he been eliminated, Jay, or is he still making all our lives a misery?’