Rage (57 page)
Authors: Wilbur Smith
â
T
en minutes to, Mr Courtney,' Tricia called Shasa on the intercom. âYou had better start going down, if you don't want to miss the opening of the PM's speech.'
T
en minutes to, Mr Courtney,' Tricia called Shasa on the intercom. âYou had better start going down, if you don't want to miss the opening of the PM's speech.'
âThank you, Tricia.' Shasa had been totally absorbed with his own work. Verwoerd had asked him to draw up a full report on the country's ability to respond to an embargo on sales of military equipment to South Africa by her Western erstwhile allies. Apparently Macmillan had hinted at this possibility to Verwoerd, a veiled threat in private conversation just before his departure. Verwoerd wanted the report before the month's end, which was typical of the man, and Shasa would have difficulty meeting that deadline.
âOh, by the way, Mr Courtney,' Tricia stopped him breaking off the connection. âI spoke to Odendaal.'
âOdendaal?' It took Shasa a moment to make the mental switch.
âYes, about the work on your ceiling.'
âOh, I hope you gave him a flea in the ear. What did he say?'
âHe says there has been no work done in your office, and no request from your wife or anybody else for rewiring of any kind.'
âThat's decidedly odd,' Shasa looked up at the damage, âbecause somebody has definitely been fiddling around in here. If it wasn't Odendaal, then have you any idea who it might be, Tricia?'
âNo, Mr Courtney.'
âNobody been in here to your knowledge?' Shasa insisted.
âNobody, sir, except of course your wife and her driver.'
âAll right, thank you, Tricia.' Shasa stood up and fetched his jacket from the dumb valet in the corner. While he shrugged into it, he studied the hole above his desk and the length of wire that had been drawn out of the corner beside the bookcase and the end tucked behind the row of encyclopaedias. Until Tricia mentioned it, he had forgotten his irritation in the face of other more dire considerations, but now he thought about the little mystery with full attention.
He crossed to the mirror and while he reshaped the knot of his tie and adjusted his black eye-patch he pondered the additional enigma of Tara's new chauffeur. Tricia's remark had reminded him of it. He still hadn't taken the man to task for his unauthorized private use of the Chev. âDamn â where have I seen him before?' he wondered, and with one last glance at the ceiling, he left the office. He was still thinking about the driver as he went down the corridor. Manfred De La Rey was waiting for him at the head of the stairs. He was smiling and quietly triumphant, and Shasa realized that he had not spoken to him in private since the shock of Macmillan's speech.
âSo,' Manfred greeted him, âBritannia has cut the apron strings, my friend.'
âDo you remember how once you called me
Soutpiel
?' Shasa asked.
Soutpiel
?' Shasa asked.
â
Ja
.' Manfred chuckled. “âSalt Prick” â with one foot in Cape Town and the other in London and the best part of you dangling in the Atlantic Ocean.
Ja
, I remember.'
Ja
.' Manfred chuckled. “âSalt Prick” â with one foot in Cape Town and the other in London and the best part of you dangling in the Atlantic Ocean.
Ja
, I remember.'
âWell, from now on I will have both feet in Cape Town,' Shasa told him. It was not until that moment, when the fact of Britain's rejection had sunk in, that Shasa realized for the first time that above all other things he was first and foremost a South African.
âGood,' Manfred nodded. âSo at last you understand that although we may not always like each other or agree, circumstances have made us brothers in this land. One cannot survive without the other, and in the end we have only each other to turn to.'
They went down into the chamber and took their seats on the green leather benches, side by side.
When the Assembly rose to pray, to ask God's blessing on their deliberations, Shasa looked across the floor at Blaine Malcomess and felt a familiar rush of affection for him. Silver-haired but tanned and handsome with those protruding ears and big strong nose, Blaine had been a tower in his life for as long as he cared to remember. In his new mood of patriotism â and, yes, of defiance of Britain's rejection â he was glad of the knowledge that this would draw them still closer together. It would narrow the political differences between them, just as it had brought Afrikaner and Englishman closer.
As the prayer ended, he sat down and turned his attention to Dr Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd as he rose to make his address. Verwoerd was a strong, articulate speaker and a brilliant debater. His address was sure to be long and carefully reasoned. Shasa knew they were in for fine entertainment and he crossed his arms, leaned against the padded back rest with anticipation and closed his eyes.
Then before Verwoerd could say his first word, Shasa opened his eyes and sat up straight on his bench. In that
moment when he had cleared his mind of all recent worry, while he was relaxed and receptive, the ancient memory had flashed in upon him â full blown. He remembered where and when he had last seen Tara's new chauffeur.
moment when he had cleared his mind of all recent worry, while he was relaxed and receptive, the ancient memory had flashed in upon him â full blown. He remembered where and when he had last seen Tara's new chauffeur.
âMoses Gama,' he said aloud, but his words were lost in the applause that greeted the Prime Minister.
T
ara gave the doorman at the main entrance to parliament a cheery smile, and was surprised at herself. She felt cocooned in a layer of unreality, as though she watched an actress playing her role.
ara gave the doorman at the main entrance to parliament a cheery smile, and was surprised at herself. She felt cocooned in a layer of unreality, as though she watched an actress playing her role.
She heard the muffled applause from the chamber as she swept up the stairs with Moses following her at a respectful distance in his chauffeur's uniform and burdened by an armful of parcels. They had done this so often, and Tara smiled again as they passed one of the secretaries in the corridor. She tapped on the door to Shasa's suite and without waiting for an answer swept into the outer office. Tricia rose from her desk.
âOh, good morning, Mrs Courtney. You'll be late for the PM's address. You'd better hurry.'
âStephen, you can just leave the parcels.' Tara stopped in front of Tricia as Moses closed the outer door.
âOh, by the way. Somebody has been working on the ceiling of your husband's office,' Tricia came around the desk, as though to lead the way to Shasa's office. âWe wondered if you knew anythingâ'
Moses placed the armful of parcels on a chair, and with his hands free turned to Tricia as she came level with him. He whipped one arm around her neck and with his other hand covered her mouth. Tricia was powerless in his grip, but her eyes flew wide with shock.
âThere are ropes and a gag in the top packet,' Moses spoke softly to Tara. âGet them.'
Tara stood paralysed. âYou said nothing about this,' she blurted.
âGet them.' His voice was still low, but it crackled with impatience and Tara sprang to obey.
âTie her hands behind her,' Moses ordered, and while Tara fumbled at the knots, he stuffed a clean, white folded cloth into the terrified girl's mouth and taped it in place.
âStay in here,' he ordered Tara, âin case somebody comes in,' and he bundled Tricia through into the inner office and forced her down on her stomach behind the desk. Swiftly he checked Tara's knots. They were loose and sloppy. He retied them and then bound Tricia's ankles as securely.
âCome in here,' he called, and Tara was flustered and stammering as she rushed in.
âMoses, you haven't hurt her?'
âStop that!' he told her. âYou have important work to do and you are behaving like a hysterical child.'
She closed her eyes, clenched her fists and took a deep breath. âI'm sorry.' She opened her eyes. âI realize that it was necessary. I didn't think. I am all right now.'
Moses had already crossed to the corner of the bookshelf and he reached up and brought down the roll of wire from behind the encyclopaedias. He paid it out across the carpet as he moved back to the desk.
âGood,' he said. âNow go to your seat in the gallery. Wait five minutes after Verwoerd begins to speak and then come back here. Do not run, do not even hurry. Do everything calmly and deliberately.'
âI understand.' Tara crossed to the mirror and opened her handbag. Quickly she ran a comb through her hair and retouched her lipstick.
Moses had gone to the altar chest and lifted the heavy bronze Bushman statue. He placed it on the carpet and lifted the lid of the chest. Tara hesitated, watching him anxiously.
âWhy are you waiting?' he asked. âGo, woman, and do your duty.'
âYes, Moses.' She hurried to the door of the outer office.
âLock both doors behind you,' he ordered.
âYes, Moses,' she whispered.
As Tara went down the corridor, she was searching in her handbag again, and she found her leather-bound notepad with the miniature gold-plated pencil in the spine loops. At the head of the stairs she paused, and used the banisters to steady the notepad while she scribbled hastily on a blank page.
Daddy,
Centaine has been seriously injured in a motorcar accident. She is asking for you. Please come quickly.
Tara
She tore the page out of the notebook and folded it. It was the one appeal to which she knew her father would respond and she wrote his name on the folded note.
Instead of going directly to the visitors' gallery, she hurried down the wide staircase into the lobby and ran to one of the uniformed parliamentary messengers who was standing outside the main doors to the chamber.
âYou have to get this message to Colonel Malcomess,' she told him.
âI don't like to go in now, Dr Verwoerd is speaking,' the messenger demurred, but she thrust the note into his hand.
âIt's terribly urgent,' she pleaded and her distress was evident. âHis wife is dying. Please â please.'
âI'll do what I can.' The messenger accepted the note, and Tara ran back up the stairs. She showed her pass to the doorman at the entrance to the visitors' gallery and squeezed past him.
The gallery was crowded. Somebody had taken Tara's seat, but she edged forward and craned to look down into
the chamber. Dr Verwoerd was on his feet, talking in Afrikaans. His silvery curls were neatly cropped and his eyes slitted with concentration as he used both hands to emphasize his words.
the chamber. Dr Verwoerd was on his feet, talking in Afrikaans. His silvery curls were neatly cropped and his eyes slitted with concentration as he used both hands to emphasize his words.
âThe question that this person from Britain put to us was not addressed to the South African monarchists, nor was it addressed to the South African republicans. It was to all of us that he spoke.' Verwoerd paused. âThe question he asked was simply this. Does the white man survive in Africa or does he perish?'
He had electrified the chamber. There was not a movement nor a shift of eyes from his face â until the uniformed parliamentary messenger slipped unobtrusively down the front row of Opposition benches and stopped beside Blaine.
Even then he had to touch Blaine's shoulder to draw his attention, and Blaine accepted the note without seeming to realize what he was doing. He nodded at the messenger, and, with the folded scrap of paper unread in his fingers, once more focused all his attention on Verwoerd where he stood below the Speaker's throne.
âRead it, Daddy!' Tara whispered aloud. âPlease read it.'
I
n all that multitude Shasa was the only one who was not mesmerized by Verwoerd's oratory. His thoughts were a jumbled torrent, one racing after another, overtaking and mingling as they followed without logical sequence.
n all that multitude Shasa was the only one who was not mesmerized by Verwoerd's oratory. His thoughts were a jumbled torrent, one racing after another, overtaking and mingling as they followed without logical sequence.
âMoses
Gama
!' It was scarcely believable that the memory had taken so long to return to him, even over the years and in spite of changes that time had wrought in both of them. They had once been good friends, and the man had made a deep impression on Shasa at a formative period of his life.
Gama
!' It was scarcely believable that the memory had taken so long to return to him, even over the years and in spite of changes that time had wrought in both of them. They had once been good friends, and the man had made a deep impression on Shasa at a formative period of his life.
Then again, Shasa had heard the name much more
recently; it had been on the list of wanted revolutionaries during the 1952 troubles. While the others, Mandela and Sobukwe and the rest, had stood trial, Moses Gama had disappeared, and the warrant for his arrest was outstanding. Moses Gama was still a criminal at large, and a dangerous revolutionary.
recently; it had been on the list of wanted revolutionaries during the 1952 troubles. While the others, Mandela and Sobukwe and the rest, had stood trial, Moses Gama had disappeared, and the warrant for his arrest was outstanding. Moses Gama was still a criminal at large, and a dangerous revolutionary.
âTara
!' His mind darted aside. She had selected Gama as her chauffeur and, given her political leanings, it was impossible that she didn't know who he was. Suddenly Shasa knew that Tara's meek repudiation of her previous left-wing companions and her new conciliatory behaviour had all been a sham. She had not changed at all. This man Moses Gama was more dangerous than all and any of her previous effete companions. Shasa had been hoodwinked. In fact she must have moved even further to the left, crossing the delicate line between legitimate political opposition and criminal involvement. Shasa almost rose to his feet, and then remembered where he was. Verwoerd was speaking already.
!' His mind darted aside. She had selected Gama as her chauffeur and, given her political leanings, it was impossible that she didn't know who he was. Suddenly Shasa knew that Tara's meek repudiation of her previous left-wing companions and her new conciliatory behaviour had all been a sham. She had not changed at all. This man Moses Gama was more dangerous than all and any of her previous effete companions. Shasa had been hoodwinked. In fact she must have moved even further to the left, crossing the delicate line between legitimate political opposition and criminal involvement. Shasa almost rose to his feet, and then remembered where he was. Verwoerd was speaking already.
âThe need to do justice to all does not mean only that the black men must be nurtured and protected. It means justice and protection for the white men in Africa alsoâ'
Shasa glanced up at the visitors' gallery and there was a stranger sitting in Tara's seat. Where was Tara? She must be in his office â and the association of ideas led him on.
Moses Gama had been in his office. Shasa had seen him in the corridor and Tricia had told him, âOnly Mrs Courtney and her driver.' Moses Gama had been in his office and somebody had drilled the ceiling and laid electrical wires. It had not been Odendaal or Maintenance. It hadn't been anyone who had authority to do so.
âWe are not newcomers to Africa. Our forefathers were here before the first black man,' Verwoerd was saying. âThree hundred years ago, when our ancestors set out into the interior of this land, it âwas an empty wilderness. The black tribes were still far to the north, making their way
slowly southwards. The land was empty and our forefathers claimed it and worked it. Later they built the cities and laid the railways and sank the mine-shafts. Alone, the black man was incapable of doing any of these things. Even more than the black tribes we are men of Africa and our right to be here is as God-given and inalienable as is theirs.'
slowly southwards. The land was empty and our forefathers claimed it and worked it. Later they built the cities and laid the railways and sank the mine-shafts. Alone, the black man was incapable of doing any of these things. Even more than the black tribes we are men of Africa and our right to be here is as God-given and inalienable as is theirs.'
Shasa heard the words but made no sense of them â Moses Gama, probably with the help and connivance of Tara, had laid electrical wires in his office and â suddenly, he gasped aloud. The altar chest. Tara had placed the chest in his office, like the Trojan Horse.
Wild with anxiety now, he swivelled his whole body towards the visitors' gallery, and this time he saw Tara. She was squeezed against one wall and even at this distance Shasa could see that she was pale and distraught. She was watching someone or something on the Opposition side of the chamber, and Shasa followed her gaze.
Blaine Malcomess was oblivious of all else as he followed the Prime Minister's speech. Shasa saw the messenger reach him and hand him the note.
Shasa looked back at the gallery and Tara was still concentrated on her father. After all the years Shasa could read her expression, and he had never seen her so worried and concerned, even when one of the children was gravely ill.
Then her face cleared with patent relief and Shasa glanced back at Blaine. He had unfolded the note and was reading it. Suddenly Blaine leapt to his feet and hurried towards the main doors.
Tara had summoned her father â that much was obvious. Shasa stared at her, trying to divine her purpose. Almost as though she sensed his gaze, Tara looked directly at him, and her relief crumbled into horror and wild guilt. She turned and fled from the visitors' gallery, pushing aside those who stood in her way.
A second longer Shasa stared after her. Tara had enticed
her father out of the chamber, and her concern could only have been so intense had she believed he was in some kind of dire danger. This was followed by guilt and horror as she realized that Shasa was watching her. It was clear to Shasa then that something terrible was about to happen. Moses Gama and Tara â there was danger, mortal danger â and Tara was trying to save her father. The danger was pressing and imminent â the wires in his office, the chest, Blaine and Tara and Moses Gama. He knew they were all interwoven and that he had little time in which to act.
her father out of the chamber, and her concern could only have been so intense had she believed he was in some kind of dire danger. This was followed by guilt and horror as she realized that Shasa was watching her. It was clear to Shasa then that something terrible was about to happen. Moses Gama and Tara â there was danger, mortal danger â and Tara was trying to save her father. The danger was pressing and imminent â the wires in his office, the chest, Blaine and Tara and Moses Gama. He knew they were all interwoven and that he had little time in which to act.
Shasa jumped to his feet and strode down the aisle. Verwoerd frowned and checked his speech, watching him, while all around the chamber heads turned. Shasa quickened his stride. Manfred De La Rey reached out to touch him as he passed his bench, but without a glance at him Shasa brushed past his outstretched hand and went on. As he hurried out into the lobby Shasa saw Blaine Malcomess near the front door talking agitatedly to the janitor. As soon as he saw Shasa he said, âThank God!' and came towards him across the chequered marble floor.
Shasa turned away from him and looked up the staircase. From the top Tara stared down at him, white-faced and terrified, held by some unnatural passion.
âTara!' Shasa called and started towards the foot of the staircase, but she whirled and disappeared around the angle of the corridor.
Shasa flew at the stairs, taking them three at a time.
âWhat's happening, Shasa?' Blaine called after him, but Shasa did not answer.
He came out of the staircase still at a run, and as he rounded the corner Tara was halfway down the corridor ahead of him. He did not waste time by shouting at her, and instead flung himself forward, and sprinted after her. As she ran, Tara glanced over her shoulder and saw him swiftly overtaking her.
âMoses!' she screamed. âLook out, Moses!'
It was futile, the panelled walls of Shasa's office were too thick and soundproof for her warning to reach him, and her cry confirmed all Shasa's worst suspicions.
Instead of running straight on towards the front door of his suite as Shasa expected, Tara jinked suddenly into the side passage, ducking under Shasa's outstretched arm and he tried to turn with her but he was off balance as she disappeared into his blind spot.
Shasa ran into the corner of the wall, crashing into it head-first, taking it on the brow above his blind eye. The silk patch cushioned the impact slightly, but still the skin split and blood poured down his cheek. Although he was stunned, Shasa managed to keep his feet. He staggered in a full circle, still dazed. Blaine was following him, his face flushed with effort and concern as he ran down the corridor.
âWhat the hell is going on, Shasa?' he roared.
Shasa turned from him, and saw Tara at the door to the back entrance of his office. She had a key, but she was in such a state that her hands were shaking too wildly to insert it in the lock.
Shasa gathered himself, shaking the darkness out of his head, and the droplets of his blood splattered the wall beside him. Then he launched himself after Tara. She saw him coming and dropped the key, it tinkled at her feet, and she clenched her fists and beat with them on the closed door.
âMoses!' she screamed. âMoses!'
As Shasa reached her the door was jerked open from the inside, and Moses Gama stood in the threshold. The two men confronted each other over Tara's head until Tara ran forward.
âMoses, I tried to warn you,' she screamed and threw both arms around him.
In that instant Shasa looked beyond the pair and saw that the altar chest stood open, its contents piled on the carpet. The coil of wire that he had found behind the
encyclopaedias had been laid across the floor to his desk and connected to some kind of compact electrical apparatus. Shasa had never seen one before, but he knew instinctively that it was a detonation device and that it was ready to fire. On the desk top beside it lay an automatic pistol. As a firearms enthusiast and collector, he recognized it as a Tokarev 7.62 mm, the standard Russian military issue. On the floor behind his desk Tricia lay on her side. She was gagged and bound at wrists and ankles, but she was wriggling desperately and giving little muffled cries.
encyclopaedias had been laid across the floor to his desk and connected to some kind of compact electrical apparatus. Shasa had never seen one before, but he knew instinctively that it was a detonation device and that it was ready to fire. On the desk top beside it lay an automatic pistol. As a firearms enthusiast and collector, he recognized it as a Tokarev 7.62 mm, the standard Russian military issue. On the floor behind his desk Tricia lay on her side. She was gagged and bound at wrists and ankles, but she was wriggling desperately and giving little muffled cries.
Shasa lunged forward to tackle Moses Gama, but the black man gathered Tara in his arms and hurled her into Shasa's chest. The two of them reeled backwards against the jamb of the door. Moses spun around and leapt to the desk, as Shasa tried to get free of Tara. She was clinging to him and moaning.
âNo! No! He must do it.'
Shasa broke her grip and flung her aside, but across the room Moses was standing over the electrical transmitter. He pressed a switch and a bulb on the panel of the casing glared redly.
Shasa knew that he could not reach Moses across the floor before he fired the device, but his mind was racing ahead of his limbs and body. He saw the wire strung out across the carpet, almost at his feet, and he stooped and took a twist of it around his right hand and heaved back against it with all his strength.
The end of the wire was firmly attached to the transmitter, and as Shasa hauled on it the device was jerked out of Moses' hands and flew off the desk top to clatter across the floor, midway between the two of them.
They both leapt for it at the same instant, but Moses was by a fraction of a second the quickest, and his hands scrabbled on the transmitter. Shasa was in full stride, and he did not check. He leaned forward, and transferred all
the weight and power of his body into his hips, swinging his right leg into the kick he aimed at Moses' head.
the weight and power of his body into his hips, swinging his right leg into the kick he aimed at Moses' head.
The kick caught Moses in the side of the temple, and snapped his head over. The transmitter tumbled from his grip and he was flung over backwards, rolling until he crashed into the desk.
Shasa followed him and aimed another flying kick at his head, but Moses caught his foot on his raised forearm and seized his ankle. He twisted violently, lifting the ankle and Shasa was caught on one foot with his weight backwards, and he fell heavily.
Moses pulled himself up the side of the desk and reached out for the Tokarev pistol, and Shasa scrambled after him on hands and knees. As Moses swung the pistol around, Shasa lunged at him again and grabbed his wrist with both hands. They wrestled over the floor, rolling and kicking and grunting, fighting for the Tokarev.
Tara had recovered and now she ran into the room and picked up the fallen transmitter. She stood helplessly with it in her hands.
âMoses, what must I do?' she cried.
Moses grunted with a supreme effort as he rolled on top of Shasa. âThe yellow button. Push the yellow button!'
At that instant Blaine Malcomess ran in through the open door. âStop her, Blaine!' Shasa yelled. âThey are going to blowâ' Moses' elbow hit him in the mouth and cut off the words.
While the two of them still struggled on the floor, Blaine held out both hands to his daughter.
âHere, give that to me, Tara.'
âDon't touch me, Daddy.' She backed away from him, but she was trying to locate the yellow button, groping for it while she stared at her father. âDon't try and stop me, Daddy.'
âBlaine,' Shasa gasped, but broke off as Moses attempted
once more to wrench his pistol arm out of Shasa's grip. The corded black muscles in Moses' arm bulged and writhed with the effort, and Shasa made a choking sound in his throat as he tried to hold him.
once more to wrench his pistol arm out of Shasa's grip. The corded black muscles in Moses' arm bulged and writhed with the effort, and Shasa made a choking sound in his throat as he tried to hold him.
The muzzle blast of the pistol lit the room like a flash bulb and there was the immediate sharp stink of burnt powder.
Blaine Malcomess, his arms outstretched towards Tara, spun around as the bullet hit him and he went reeling into the bookcase. He stood there for a moment with the blood starting to spread in a dark tide down the front of his white shirt and then he sagged slowly onto his knees.
âDaddy!' Tara dropped the transmitter and ran to him. She fell on her knees beside him.
Shock had weakened Shasa's grip for an instant and Moses twisted free and jumped to his feet, but as he lunged for the transmitter, Shasa was after him. He caught Moses from behind as he stooped over the transmitter and with one arm around his throat pulled him away from it. In his efforts to break the throttling grip, Moses dropped the pistol and clawed at Shasa's arm with both hands. They grappled wildly, twisting and grunting, and the transmitter lay at their feet.
Shasa shifted his weight, lifted one foot and drove his heel into the panel of the transmitter; the panel crackled as it was stove in, but the red bulb still burned.
Moses was galvanized to fresh effort by the damage to the. transmitter, and he almost tore himself free of Shasa's grip, twisting to face him, but Shasa put out all his strength and they stood chest to chest, gasping and heaving, spittle and sweat and droplets of blood from Shasa's head wound smearing both their faces.
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