A Trojan Affair

by Michael Smorenburg

  With great pride, she’d let Broad in on a secret—that the church elders were well advanced with their cunning and devious plan to lock the SKA development up in Land Claims Court for long enough to send it somewhere less offensive; like Australia.

  He’d smiled and thanked her warmly, congratulating her that she’d secured a husband who associated himself with people so wily and devious, and then he’d stalked off to find Bud.

  But, before he got back to the room, his mobile had rung with interesting news from Neels’ hosts in Kentucky. Indeed, the news was spectacular. With the mood of stubbornness he could see brewing within his host, the Dominee, the news from stateside could not have been better. It gave Broad a brilliant idea to swing the shifting balance of power back into his own favour, so he issued his strategic instructions on what ought to happen next and then he’d headed once more in search of Bud.

  “If these clowns lock that land up und’r a land claim, or worse get some kinda indigenous sacred site,” Broad ranted, “that’ll lock the natural gas industry outa here for the rest’a time.”

  He barely finished venting his anger and revealing the details to Bud of an unexpected ace that the call from Kentucky had suddenly slipped up his sleeve, when there came a knock at the door.

  It was Andy Selbourne.

  The men had first met years earlier and become associated. Two months ago, Selbourne had visited Kentucky. They’d assembled at the Creation Museum with Ham and others in the inner circle. Selbourne had reported on his progress in Southern Africa setting up Freedom of Religion South Africa with powerful government ties that would push through favourable legislation to benefit them.

  Andy had been instrumental in making first contact on Gabriel Broad and his associate’s behalf. He’d acted as intermediary and now felt rather smug knowing that pretty soon his influences would also extend into this region as they ousted the local church in favour of his Evangelist Faith; so much more loyal to The Word than the incumbent.

  “Now I heard me a strange rum’r,” Broad commented, smiling at Andy, but not with his eyes, “that there’s some kinda land claim y’all got going on in these here parts? A sacred heritage claim?”

  “Yes,” Andy confirmed with some surprise at the man’s knowledge of an initiative he personally had conceived and sold to the Dominee.

  But it shocked him to now see the death in Broad’s eyes, so he quickly covered his surprise, feigning matter-of-fact neutrality in his reply and giving him the chance to leap in any direction that the flow of conversation might require.

  “You certainly keep your ear to the ground!” he complimented Broad. “I think the Dominee intended to disclose and discuss it at the meeting later. The local preacher thought it a good idea to stall the SKA process by bringing in a heritage claim that wi...”

  “Y’all don’t think it’s something we should’a discussed beforehand?” Broad’s voice was brittle.

  “I… we… never thought it an issue. You know, the situation is local, the best solution will be local. We’re well placed—the local church is well placed—to have influence over the claimants. It’s a pretty solid plan.”

  “That’s presuming y’all know what the plan is,” Broad started to bite back, and Bud shot him a look that said shut up—don’t pique his curiosity.

  “The plan seemed pretty clear to me,” Andy stammered, but tried to sound authoritative. “We want to bring The Word to the people, and need to save the youngsters here who have lost their faith in a church that history is leaving behind. Particularly here where there is so much distraction from the scientific community who are pouring money in and winning hearts with it. We talked about this when…”

  “That’s the plan y’all working on, yes,” Broad cut him off disdainfully, then reigned himself in to prevent betraying any more than that. He admonished himself internally for being so emotionally rocked by what amounted to a business management error in communication. “That’s the plan y’all working for us toward, yes, boy. That’s the goal we’ll be wanting. But there’s gotta be cohesion in our implementation of the plan. Y’all understand?”

  Broad’s mind was racing to weigh up the angles, so he culled the conversation to buy himself more time to think.

  “But y’all put it aside for now. It jus’ caught me unawares. Just stay ‘way from that there topic today with y’re pastor. I’ll give y’all instructions when I’ve considered it by its merits.”

  “How do you like him, the pastor?” Andy was keen to leap far from the morass and minefield he’d suddenly found himself in. The look on the two American’s faces had shocked him; the Devil was in them and he welcomed the backdoor that Broad had opened for him to avoid what looked like an ugly and evidently ego-driven power play. He didn’t come up with the heritage claim, which is inspired, he was thinking to himself. So it’s a bad plan? Typical egotist!

  “How did you like the Dominee?” he repeated.

  “Not a bad sort, but I don’t get that he likes me a whole great deal,” Broad volunteered. “He didn’t ‘ppreciate the advertising of the debate.”

  “He said so?” Andy asked.

  “He said nothing… that said it all.”

  Gert had been on his knees in the pew for longer than he had ever knelt in his life. At his age it would normally have seized his ailing back, but he felt nothing.

  He’d prayed earnestly for direction. In his mind, he’d mulled over what was at stake and how much he’d exposed himself to sanction from the synod. The more he’d thought about it, the more he’d convinced himself he was free and clear. All he’d done was interpret the scriptures literally—that the Earth, heavens and man were made when the Bible said they were. And from this perspective he had preached against the newcomer scientists seeking to entrench an alternative claim.

  Indeed, he’d convinced himself, the synod might well thank him for taking the stand after all.

  He’d also been in dialogue with Selbourne and his Freedom of Religion group, but that was not a violation of any kind. He had not committed the church or its members to any official course—not yet officially committed it, at any rate.

  Indeed, when the troublesome female scientist, the mother of the black devil child, had brought the matter up with the Minister for Science and Technology at a recent engagement, he’d brushed it aside. The Dominee was very pleased to have such a network of informers feeding him vital information like this.

  The more he thought about it, the more he diminished, in his own mind, the negative impact to the church. The more he thought about it, the more he began to feel that this whole sojourn was going to pay off in positive outcomes for him. He gained strength from it; prayer had worked for him as it always did.

  At last he had his answers; he would face down the Americans and send them packing. But then the issue of Neels popped into his mind.

  Neels was in the Americans’ hands, at mercy to their whim. It wasn’t exactly a hostage situation, but it did make it awkward. Neels was emotionally brittle right now and Gert didn’t want to create any circumstance to aggravate that. Neels was impulsive and, like his own father, was known to drink heavily when under stress. It was a delicate situation, he realized. It just might cause an issue if his emotions ran away with him and he became confrontational with the boy’s benefactor today. What to do about that?

  Neels coming back at this time was out of the question. Beatrice, the legal secretary for that turncoat, Pieter de Villiers, was keeping Gert well informed of the meetings and correspondence being produced against the lad, and it was ugly. Half the girls in the area were coming forward now that Sonja had gone against him and alleged his sexual predations. It made him wonder if the stories she was making up were the result of grief at her father’s loss and bitterness toward the boy who had such a strong bond with him. But it seemed inconceivable that she could have turned the whole community against a boy whose reputation had, aside from his violent and carousing streak, always been impeccable. Not just the girl
s either; many of the boys, especially the coloured and black ones, were jumping on the bandwagon claiming Neels was a racist and filled with hate. It was an irrational witch hunt.

  The hate was theirs, Gert decided; venom they were producing to bring down a boy who represented an older, purer, better era.

  So—Neels could not come home and Gert was loath to make waves for him.

  Just then the three men arrived through the church door.

  “Whad’a place, huh?” Broad bellowed. “Like something from th’ Ark, not that it’d be a bad thing if all y’all want is creaking and aging bones on the pews.”

  A worshipper who had been privately kneeling in silent prayer started at the brashness of the man’s loud voice. She gathered her belongings and hastily made to leave.

  The church was austere. It was in keeping with every other NG church and it was precisely the way Gert liked it. He didn’t appreciate the bombastic insult.

  “We keep our voices down out of re-spect,” Gert hissed.

  “Oh, gotcha. I’m used t’ a more lively house-a-prayer. Y’all gotta know the Lord’s a lively fella and it comes kinda naturally to me.”

  “The Evangelist churches are much more flamboyant,” said Andy, who tried to quell the obvious tensions already between the two men.

  “And us evangelicals also go in for a bit more colour and glamour. Something we all can help out with if y’all want the good advice.”

  “We are quite fine without any help, thank you,” Gert said curtly. “Let us go to my office.”

  Gert did not want them defiling the sanctity of his church another minute, so he led them back out through the front doors and up the side to his office at the back.

  He crowded them around the table and did not offer them refreshments. What he had in mind would have them off the grounds and preferably out of town in quick order.

  “There seems t’ be a problem?” Broad went directly to the issue.

  “I am afraid that I may have overstepped my jurisdiction,” Gert responded plainly.

  “This was something we were planning to take up with y’all. Y’all mean this land claiming business?” Broad made a snap decision to broach the topic himself.

  “That… and the challenge to the SKA project. I did it without authorization from the synod.”

  “Y’all did what I told y’all to do… that’d be the best strategy. Take them head-on, they’re a-violating your jurisdiction.”

  “Well, that’s not how we work in our church and I made a serious error of judgment which I must now correct. It is also not policy that I pursue this discussion with other denominations without direction from my superiors.” Gert was angling to bring the entire discussion and matter to a hasty close.

  “So y’all gonna run? They got y’all licked? All the fight outa y’all gone? I’m mighty disappointed. Thought y’all were made of sterner stuff.”

  Broad had done his homework on the mindset of the Afrikaner. There was no more certain way to strum his ego and drive him in a direction you want him to go than to effectively call him a coward who is not up for a fight.

  Gert was up for a fight, and he still firmly believed the SKA’s objectives threatened to violate his deeply held Faith, but he did not want this foreigner as his fight manager. It took all of his self-control not to lash out at this pushy and arrogant man trying to toy with him, on his own turf. He would fight, but he would now only do so under the direction of his own church. He would convince them that this was a fight they needed to allow him to take up.

  “I think we have taken this as far as I can take it,” he said, being genial, not wanting a total confrontation. “I am sorry for the disappointment, but I’m certain that if I can convince my superiors as to the urgency of this, they will give me the authority to proceed again to work closely with you.”

  Andy saw his opportunity to gain a foothold in this region starting to slip.

  Since he’d gone in league with the Americans, he had only seen success; moving in and taking over every suburb or town they’d targeted.

  But these last few moments were unsettling, and he was about to venture an opinion to smooth the path and bring the old Dominee back into the fold when Broad beat him to it.

  “Well I’m real sorry that y’all gotta create such a difficulty at this time. I’m particularly sorry to give y’all the bad news I only just received myself minutes before we left t’ come on over. It’s about your boy back in Kentucky.”

  “Neels?” Gert had detected the severity in Broad’s voice and his face was a mask of horror. “Bad news?”

  “Afraid so. That boy’s gotten himself into some seeeerious troubles. Seeeerious, seeeerious troubles.” Broad left it there. He had sunk the hook deep and the silence that followed was letting the old man stew and work for the details.

  “Is he all right? I’ve heard nothing like that. His parents would have called me,” Gert insisted, suspicious of the American’s tactics.

  “Oh, they’d not be a-knowing yet,” Broad pointed out. “The boy’s awake but not discharged yet from the hospital. I have to tell y’all that there’s a-high probability there’ll be chaaarges pressed… chaaarges for rape.”

  “For rape?!” Gert stood from his chair and started to pace. “Rape? Impossible!”

  “I’m afraid it’s not. Seems your boy pushed one of the little coloured girls a bit further than she wanted to go.”

  “A coloured girl?” Rape was one thing, but Neels having sexual liaisons with a coloured girl was entirely out of the question.

  “It’s a seeeerious matter. My people can take most of the sting outta it. But I understand he’s in a little spot of bother this side o’ th’ water too?”

  Broad ground away at his advantage. Now the preacher needed him and would have to kowtow and fall in line.

  “I, I really don’t know what to think. I need more information and to talk to his parents immediately.”

  “My people are a-calling his folks riiight now. I’m pretty sure y’all can have a discussion to see how y’all wanna work it out. Under the circumstances, we can reconvene later to discuss the upcoming debate.”

  Gert agreed; he could see no other option. In agreeing, he’d agreed to the debate too.

  Chapter 35

  “A most peculiar situation,” JJ disclosed to Marsha and Al, who had been hastily called to a meeting with him at Meerkat Restaurant in town, conveniently close to de Villiers attorneys. Pieter was already drawing up documents to affirm the matters under discussion.

  “I just got a call from the Vermaaks, Neels’ parents. It seems their son’s landed himself in very hot water in Kentucky and needs to be extracted in a hurry. I already have wheels in motion. My wife’s visiting family one state over and she’s already taking care of things over there for us. I’m hoping to get your agreement on this; he’s returning.”

  The Vermaaks had concluded, after agonizing discussions with Dominee Gert, that their son needed to be extracted in a hurry from the serious repercussions he faced in the United States. It was clear that the only person with the resources to do this in an emergency was JJ Kruger.

  Intending to pre-empt what was generally considered JJ’s traitorous shift of allegiance to outsiders, they’d pitched their plea to appeal to his deep cultural roots and family history in the community.

  Long before they’d come to their point, JJ had seen through their convoluted Afrikaner-against-the-oppressors appeal, and their desperation lent him the leverage he sought to secure favourable terms in return for his help.

  “What’s the scoop?” Al asked, bursting with curiosity.

  “That proverbial old leopard hasn’t change his spots.” JJ bobbed his head in a nod of victory. “Neels has been involved in exactly the kind of thing in the States that we’ve uncovered about him here. Happily, this time, he seems to have come off the worst.”

  A waitress arrived and set down coffees, fussing with minor arrangements, clearly trying to pick up threads of gossi
p. JJ paused till she left.

  “The details I have are that he has been deeply depressed. To cheer him up, they took him to a house party, where, surprise… he got way out of hand, got drunk, was dancing with a girl, and… same-old, same-old. The pair went out to the back garden. Next thing, she shouts for help and a bunch of home-boys jump in and beat the tar out of him. He put two of them in hospital, but they knocked him out cold, and he’s been brought down a good few notches.”

  “This lunatic’s a real loose cannon,” Al observed.

  “It gets better. We know there’s a connection to Broad’s crowd. Latest in from the gossip mill is things aren’t going swimmingly here for Broad with the Dominee, so, all of a sudden there’s muttering from Kentucky that Neels’ victim has the option to claim attempted rape… you know, if Broad’s hosts don’t warm to him over here.”

  “Good, let him rot,” Marsha folded her arms.

  “It’s an option,” JJ shrugged in agreement. “He’s discharged from the hospital, and of course claiming it’s a setup. So, yeah, we could let it be and let him sit. But will sitting fix him or this situation here? It’s retribution, but is it rehabilitation?” JJ posed.

  “What’s a better option?” Marsha kept her arms folded.

  “I think there’s a win to be had. Whatever he’s done there, he already got swift justice for… physical justice, the kind he’s used to dishing out. I’ve talked to him and he’s really shaken; rightly terrified and knocked off his foundation. We could leave him there, sure. Even if what they’re muttering about is trumped up, he certainly deserves justice for what he’s done on this side of the pond. That’s the one option, but maybe it’s the option that pushes him the wrong way and nothing actually gets learned.”

  Marsha unfolded her arms and joined Al with her forearms on the table, listening intently.

  The waitress was in conference with her colleague, glancing their way, clearly plotting a new strategy to get a grasp on the tantalizing conversation at table seven.