Hyena Dawn (43 page)

This was the sort of talk that Vorotnikov loved to hear - though he had absolutely no intention of encouraging peaceful change in South Africa. For his own purposes, the more violent the struggle the better.

‘
What you say is true. But I would argue that most of the problem comes from the divisions within your own ranks. If you had managed to combine your efforts with those of Joshua Nkomo, I am sure that you would have achieved victory by now.’

‘
Nkomo does not think as I do, General. He does not fight the war of the flea, his men seek direct, suicidal engagements. We seek to win the hearts and minds of the people; we wear our enemy down through a war of attrition. In the new government there will be a place for Nkomo, but he will never be head of state. After the take-over there will be no elections for a long, long time. The state must first rebuild itself before the people have the right to vote.’

‘
Trust me, Mr Mugabe. You will see, when you read the document, that we will take complete control of the means of production the moment the invasion is launched. Then
you
will take control of a going concern, rather than a failing one. The British, of course, will be furious. I would advise you not to apply for membership of the Commonwealth, but rather to come to us for investment funding. After the creation of the new Zimbabwe, the world will no longer say there is no successful black economy.

‘
The iron is hot. I ask you to study these plans day and night. The less time you take to make a decision, the sooner we will achieve an overwhelming victory.’

As the General finished speaking, Robert Mugabe made his decision. ‘Thank you, General. We will see if your fine words are a match for those contained in this document. We will reconvene tomorrow afternoon. My commanders and I have a busy twenty- four hours before us. I congratulate you on being so open with us. However, I will not be pressured into a decision.’

The delegation of black leaders filed out of the room, leaving Vorotnikov and his aides alone. Carl, to his left, was the first to break the silence.

‘
General, forgive me for asking, but did you strike a deal with Mr Brand?’

‘
Yes, Carl. A tough man.’

‘
It is disgraceful. This will be the first time the Soviet Union has ever had to pay to buy its own weapons. The profit should accrue to the people, not a dirty capitalist entrepreneur.’

‘
You are correct, Carl. But you must understand that the moment I have the weapons I will eliminate Mr Brand, and he will not be paid.’

‘
Ah. You live up to your reputation, General.’

The man had climbed up to the balcony in the darkness, and now he came into the room. He stank, he was haggard and unshaven. His eyes were black round the sockets and he had a wild look about him - yet Rayne knew him from somewhere. The man came into the centre of the room and stood in front of Rayne’s bed, looking at the barrel of the gun pointed directly at him.

‘
You think I let you down. You have to realise that I got here as soon as I could.’

‘
Lois!’

Rayne leapt to his feet and embraced him. In a flash he realised the immense courage it must have required for Lois to have flown into Mozambique and then entered Beira to find the hotel.

‘
This place frightens me, Captain, it’s far worse than I expected. I’ve already had to kill to survive this far. The helicopter’s ready, so are the bikes. I managed to get into the fuel depot just outside the town, and I smuggled out enough fuel to get us out of here safely.’

‘
I don’t know how you managed it, Lois. It must have taken a hell of a lot of guts. We’ve had problems, but mostly we’ve been lucky. So what happened? I tried to make contact with you, but after I failed we couldn’t put off the launch-time.’

‘
Problems with the bloody helicopter. It was a miracle I got her going again.’

‘
Still giving problems?’

‘
She’s flying like a dream. The armaments are working perfectly too. You couldn’t have a better machine for the job.’

‘
Did you clear out the farmhouse before you left?’

‘
No chance. When I came back to the main camp after you’d left, the place was crawling with the SADF.’

‘
What the hell!’

‘
I was lucky I didn’t land or they would have had me. After that I flew back and landed a kilometre from the farm. By then I was cautious. There was an ambush - well prepared, but I got the jump on them. I killed one soldier and the commanding officer. That caused complete pandemonium and I was able to get out without being located. I flew over the Mozambique border that same night - the last thing I needed was the South African airforce trying to hunt me down. Luckily, as far as I know there was no pursuit. Is everyone here?’

‘
Guy is with me in the hotel, Larry and Mick are monitoring the bank. Bunty’s covering the road to the airport and Michael

Strong is busy sabotaging the runways. Now that you’ve arrived, everything is in place. We’d better speak to Guy; it’s time to let him know about our emergency way out.’

Lois saw that there was something else worrying Rayne. ‘Captain, you’re not telling me everything, are you?’

Rayne focused his eyes directly on Lois. ‘Sam’s here, Lois. She was abducted by terrs on the border a week ago. Then the Russians got hold of her. For some reason I can’t quite understand, she was taken from them and is being hidden somewhere.’

Lois turned and looked out at the darkness. ‘Whatever it takes to find her, sir. I’m with you.’

Bernard sat on the balcony of the villa, sipping a whisky and staring out to sea. There was much on his mind and it had to be sorted out very quickly. Always plans and more plans. A lifetime of intrigue and corporate in-fighting had taught him never to rely on one strategy or one man alone.

He looked down at his watch. A quarter past three. His appointment was for four o’clock.

He had read long ago about an American movie mogul who spent at least an hour of every day on his own, thinking about what he was doing. The story had surprised Bernard, because this was something he himself had been doing for a long time. Business was much like a game of chess: make your move too quickly and you’d regret it later; wait too long and you’d give your opponent the advantage.

Well, now the game had changed and he must make new plans. The wily Russian General was more cunning than he’d expected. Now he’d have to cover his bets, act to protect the enormous amount of money he was sinking into the project. He would have to operate as he did in every African state in which he did business, through bribery and negotiation. Well, whatever the outcome, the General would end up paying, he’d make sure of that ... He felt cut off in this place, away from the phones, teleprinters and screens that kept him in touch with the daily events of the international business world.

In London Jay would be completing negotiations on the purchase of a large office property in the heart of the City - the new headquarters of the Goldcorp Group. Even though British taxes were prohibitive, it was worth the move; in London they’d be able to distance themselves from the South African government, and better position themselves for the transfer of power when it finally came.

Bernard smiled to himself as he imagined the expression that would appear on certain South African faces if it was known that he was shortly to meet a man who was not only a vehement Marxist, but also dedicated to the downfall of the South African government.

For a moment, too, Bernard thought about the problem of Jay and the woman. What was her name again - Helen? It had been stupid, the sort of boy’s prank that got one into big trouble. They had far too many enemies to make that sort of mistake comfortably. That was where the old man had always been right. You killed or you were killed.

He intended to prove Max Golden correct. It wasn’t going to be long before Max handed over control to Jay, and then Bernard would make his move. The control he had always wanted would be his; the Goldens would be past tense.

Bernard sauntered down the stairs into the garden. As he did so, he carefully moved his hand up behind his back, as if to scratch between his shoulder blades, and felt the familiar form of the thin throwing-knife that hung between them. He never took chances.

He spoke to one of the servants, telling him he was going for a walk on the beach and did not want to be disturbed. The servant bowed obsequiously and disappeared inside the villa. Strange, thought Bernard, how even after independence most men preferred to serve others rather than to be masters of their own fate. He ambled towards the beach through the flowerbeds, his eyes constantly scanning the area around him.

The servant to whom he had spoken watched him fearfully through the folds of curtaining in the lounge. The big man moved like a cat, the thick, black curly hair of his enormous head partially obscuring the powerful face. Bernard turned round, sensing that he was being watched, and the servant disappeared quickly behind the curtains.

Once he was on the beach, Bernard relaxed. There was no one about - the area round the villa was heavily guarded, and anyone who dared to trespass was savagely beaten up. He could not fault the General on his security arrangements, they were impeccable. He continued along the beach for some five minutes until he came to a path that branched off through trees. Looking behind him again, to make sure that he wasn’t being followed, he disappeared into the trees. He walked on through thick vegetation until suddenly he was at the perimeter fence. As promised, there were no guards here, and a black man in combat uniform was waiting for him with a four-wheel-drive vehicle.

This man gestured for Bernard to get into the passenger seat and then blindfolded him. They drove in silence for about ten minutes, then Bernard’s eyes were uncovered.

They were parked outside an elegant country house. A short green lawn led up from the drive to a line of imposing Roman pillars that formed the front of the building. Bernard was glad the meeting had been set up in this secluded place. He was without any protection yet he enjoyed the danger.

As he approached the dark green door with the gold handle, he slowed his pace. There appeared to be no one about. Perhaps they had let him down? There was always that risk.

As he came up to the door, it opened to reveal an enormous black man in military uniform with no rank badges visible. Bernard walked cautiously through the door into the white-tiled reception area.

‘
Mr Aschaar . . .’

The moment the man spoke, Bernard’s impression of him changed. The voice was clear and cultivated; this was no ordinary soldier.

‘
. . . you will have to wait some time. He is deep in discussion. He apologises for your having to wait and informs me that if you are angry another time for a meeting can be arranged.’

If he had been in Johannesburg or any of the world’s industrial capitals, Bernard would have got up and left, but not here. He sat down on one of the Edwardian chairs and picked up a copy of
Time
magazine.

Leafing through it, he was not surprised to see a picture of himself in the financial section, and talk of a large-scale takeover by the Goldcorp Group within the South African mining industry. He turned the pages, not wanting to clutter his mind with those problems before his crucial meeting.

He moved to the social pages and listlessly read through an article on Penelope O’Keefe, the film star, and had nearly finished it when he realised that she was the daughter of one of his arch rivals. He remembered trying to have her kidnapped and before that, attempting to bring down the plane she was flying in. The death of Sir George’s daughter would surely have destroyed him and made his mines vulnerable to a takeover bid from Goldcorp. She was spectacularly beautiful and he felt bitter, remembering Marisa his wife . . . There was still the anger inside him. She had demanded he have those tests, and he had learned that he would never be able to father a child.

It was true that they could have implanted some of his semen in her body, but already their relationship was doomed. He had seen the contempt in her eyes - contempt for him, Bernard Aschaar, because he could never father a child properly. The bitch! She had always known how to attack him where he was most vulnerable, and now she had at her command the perfect, devastating weapon. One night after they had made love and she had criticised his performance, he had beaten her up.