Hyena Dawn (22 page)

‘
Jay asked me to do certain things. He wanted me to kneel down and suck him. When I wouldn’t they said I was frigid. I remember pictures being taken. I wasn’t feeling too good after Jay hit me.

‘
They dragged me over to the table and tied me down onto it. Jay explored my body with his hands. I bit him. That was when he got the sjambok - he went berserk. Then he raped me from behind.

‘
It went on the whole evening. I couldn’t stand the pain of being whipped so I did what he asked me to. God, they even filmed the whole thing.

‘
They took me home much, much later. When I said I’d go to the police they laughed and said that was typical of a whore.

‘
A friend of my late father’s, a plastic surgeon I knew well, operated on my back the next day. I asked him to alter my face. If the photographs ever came to light, I didn’t want to be recognised. I told him never ever to mention my back to anyone. He’s a good man, he never has. I told everyone else I’d had a car accident.’

‘
But why are you still so scared?’

‘
They’ve been blackmailing me, threatening to release the pictures if I try to interfere with their mining operations. If it hadn’t been for that I would have expanded my interests more. The way they treat their mine workers is appalling, they deserve to be exposed.

Deon got up and touched her shoulder. ‘I vow that you will never live in fear again, Miss Seyton-Waugh. I’ll get those bastards, whatever the cost.’

Bernard

Helen Jamieson, Bernard Aschaar’s new secretary, sat silently at her desk. She had meant to go out for lunch, but now she didn’t want to eat, she wanted to wait and see what happened. She’d handed a letter to Mr Aschaar some minutes before - she hadn’t opened it herself - and it had made him very angry. He had called Jay Golden across to discuss the contents of the letter.

She thought about the man she worked for, the managing director of the Goldcorp Group and rumoured to be South Africa’s highest-paid businessman. Bernard was a big, heavy man, just over six foot tall. She knew most men thought he was bigger than that because he exuded such power and confidence; he had boxed professionally when he left university and had never lost a heavyweight bout. He still trained every morning, and at forty years old his body was a solid pack of muscle. Women found him irresistible.

He always smiled - sometimes coldly, sometimes warmly, and mostly out of habit. People remembered him for his smile - and for his unfashionably long, lustrous, curling black hair. He had the look of a noble savage.

Helen was awakened from her thoughts as Jay Golden bounded into her office. Jay was in his late twenties, with a lightly sun-tanned skin and white-blond hair. It was said he went out with a different woman every day of the year - not surprising, since he was heir to one of the largest fortunes in Africa. Helen liked Jay, and she intended to sleep with him, but on her terms. Jay could give her both money and power. Now his bright blue eyes stared directly into hers.

‘
Something wrong, Helen?’

‘
He’s in a bad mood, Mr Golden.’

‘
Well, I’m not!’ She smelt his expensive aftershave as he breezed past her into Bernard Aschaar’s office.

‘
Hey, Bernard, don’t look so heavy. It doesn’t suit you. I’d like a Scotch and soda, please. After all, I should have some reward for the effort I’ve made to come and see you.’

Bernard calmly poured Jay’s drink, then a neat Scotch for himself. He watched as Jay studied the photograph on the table and the note that had come with it.

When he finally spoke, Jay had a slight edge to his voice. ‘I thought you’d destroyed the stuff with me in it.’

‘
No, Jay, I kept it. Someone who obviously knew about it took the photographs, the film and the file from my safe. What do you think your father will say when he sees the photographs?’

Jay looked at him in silence, thinking things over. ‘He won’t see them. We’ll do whatever they ask.’

‘
They haven’t asked for anything so far, Jay. They’re just threatening, get it? This is revenge.’

‘
You’re in trouble, Bernard. It must have been Sonja Seyton- Waugh who organised the break-in. After what we’ve been doing to her, she’d be desperate for those photographs.’

Bernard gave Jay one of his famous smiles. ‘Firstly, Jay, I’m not the one in trouble; I’m not in the photographs. And I’m not going to inherit the Goldcorp Group. But you are - at least, if your father doesn’t see those pictures. Secondly, I have duplicates of all this material. If it’s Sonja, she won’t move so fast once she knows that.’

‘
God. What the hell am I going to do?’

‘
Simple, Jay. Get the photographs back.’

‘
So we take this one to the police, I suppose?’

Bernard did not laugh. Jay had just come up with a very good idea. ‘Yes Jay, that’s exactly what we do.’

‘
Over my dead body!’

‘
Listen to me. People aren’t interested in reality, only in their perception of reality. We got a blackmail note. The only problem with it is that you are in the photograph along with Sonja Seyton- Waugh. The solution is simple: we re-stage the photograph. Your fiancee instead of Sonja Seyton-Waugh, and some other sucker instead of you.’

‘
But I haven’t got a fiancee!’

‘
You’ll get one. In fact I know just the girl.’

‘
Then we give the new photo and the same blackmail note to the police?’

‘
Exactly. I’ll speak to our friend General Muller. I’ll tell him that your fiancee is being blackmailed, that the photograph is of an ugly incident that happened to her many years ago. I’ll say I paid the blackmailers for the pictures and put them in my safe, meaning to destroy them. These men then obviously broke into my house, recovered the pictures and demanded more money. I’ll tell Muller that we want the photographs found and destroyed, and the blackmailer eliminated.’

‘
You’re a genius, Bernard. But what about making the substitute photo look real? Are you going to use a make-up artist to create the whip-marks on my fiancee’s back?’

‘
Who said anything about faking it? This will be the real thing done to a real lady!’ And Bernard roared with laughter as he explained the rest of his plan to Jay.

Helen couldn’t quite believe it had happened; it was exactly what she’d been planning. Jay had asked her out for dinner. She could see he was infatuated with her. Well, she would continue to keep him at a distance and control the whole affair very coolly. Her price would be high - marriage, if possible. She had always dreamed of living the way Jay did, driving an exotic sports car and wearing the latest designer clothes.

She got home just after six that evening and phoned her boyfriend, Nigel, to cancel their date. She’d been thinking of ditching him for a long time now, so she felt nothing of standing him up. She actually got a strange kick out of hearing his disappointment at the other end of the line. She slammed the phone down with satisfaction - men like Nigel would soon be a thing of the past. Jay was in a different class altogether; he could offer her everything she wanted. It gave her a thrill to be in the company of a man who had so much power.

Now she had to think about what to wear that evening. She prided herself on her wardrobe - not a lot of clothes, but all of them carefully chosen. She never bought cheap and only chose the sort of things that never went out of fashion. She knew that the way she looked and dressed was an important part of her success. There were many secretaries who wanted to work for the Goldcorp Group, and she’d got the job because of her poise, her looks, and her falsified references. She’d gone to elocution lessons to remove the last traces of her guttural South African accent, and the references made out that she’d attended Johannesburg’s top private school for girls. Rhodean.

First she chose some French underwear, a low-cut lace bra and a black suspender-belt with a very brief pair of panties. The satin-smooth black silk stockings enhanced the sensual shape of her legs and she admired herself in the long mirror in her bedroom. Now she would have the time really to arouse Jay. The black evening dress fitted her like a glove, with a daring plunge behind that left her whole back naked. Her breasts pressed invitingly against the thin black material and hinted at the excitement that lay beneath.

The car swung off the Ml South and turned right onto the M2 West, heading towards Krugersdorp. Helen thought for a moment that they were going to the exclusive Crown Mines restaurant but was surprised when the car turned back north towards the industrial suburb of Amalgam.

She was about to say that she knew the area well when she realised that that would conflict with the information on her curriculum vitae. She was supposed to have lived in the exclusive suburb of Houghton . . . The buildings that they were now passing evoked strong memories of her childhood. Perhaps Jay was taking her to see a new factory before going on to a restaurant?

‘
This is a very exclusive club we’re going to, Helen.’ He turned the car right and drove in through the open doors of a large warehouse. As they entered, the doors began to close behind them automatically. Inside, it was pitch black. They got out of the car and Jay held her arm, escorting her through the darkness. She heard a door opening and the sound of other voices.

‘
Friends.’

In the darkness Jay’s voice seemed to have an almost threatening tone to it. She had never heard him speak like this before. Suddenly she felt out of her depth and scared. ‘Where are we?’

‘
In the middle of fucking nowhere, lady.’

Another voice, it sounded guttural, low-class and unpleasant. Helen wondered how Jay could allow this man to speak to her in such a way.

The lights came on. They were so bright that she could hardly see anything for a time - large lights, like the sort they used in film studios; steam rose eerily above them. She was standing alone in the middle of the warehouse which smelt of damp and male sweat.

Two men stood behind one of the lamps, and she could see that they both held cans of beer in their hands. She turned round and saw Jay sitting on a chair in the corner. Next to him was Bernard Aschaar. There was a movie camera on a tripod next to them, and several aluminium camera cases on the floor. The only other object in the warehouse was a big wooden table that stood next to her. For reassurance, she began to walk towards Jay and Bernard.

‘
Stay right where you are.’ Jay’s voice was cold and commanding. She obeyed it, and shivered, even though the warehouse was quite warm inside.

‘
Don’t worry, dear, we’ll soon warm you up.’

All of them laughed, and she laughed nervously too. She heard the sound of a drink being poured. One of the men came forward and handed her a full glass of neat whisky.

‘
Drink.’

He said the word slowly. She took the glass and poured the contents on the floor. She was tired of their games. She walked bravely towards Jay and Bernard, who looked at her coldly.

The next minute the man had grabbed her hair and twisted it so savagely she screamed out.

‘
Shut up, bitch. Johnny, fill me another glass.’

He didn’t let go of her hair and she thought it would come out at the roots. ‘Please. Please. Mr Aschaar, help me.’

She cried out in desperation, she couldn’t work out what they wanted. Another glass was handed to her and the man released his grip on her hair.

‘
Drink.’

She drank the whisky, feeling it burn as it went down her throat. She wanted to be sick. She lowered the glass but the man held it up to her mouth again. Now she almost choked as the whisky continued to pour down her throat. She felt giddy, but at least the pain of her pulled hair wasn’t so bad.

‘
Give her another glass, Johnny.’

‘
I can’t drink any more.’