Keepers of the House

by JH Fletcher

  ‘Who’s the letter from?’ Anna asked.

  ‘I prefer to keep that to myself at this stage. Obviously the board will be told before a final decision is taken but, for the moment, I’m simply asking for your views. In principle.’

  ‘A venture in what?’

  ‘Mining. Finance. Property. A full spread of activities.’

  ‘Someone who’s lost their shirt and wants us to bail them out,’ Harris grunted. It seemed very likely, but that was not the point.

  ‘If that’s the case, the terms are likely to be highly advantageous,’ Anna said. ‘I’ve got three questions. One; are the people who’ve approached us the sort we would be willing to get into bed with? Two; are the ventures sound, commercially speaking? Three; what do we feel about involvement in Asia at this time?’

  ‘What do we feel about cutting our throats?’ Harris asked.

  ‘The people behind this would be quite acceptable to the Board,’ Harry Dann said. ‘No problems there. As far as the actual investment is concerned they’ll be fine when the Asian economy picks up —’

  ‘Whenever that may be.’

  Harris had obviously appointed himself wrecker of the whole proposal but that was Harris, never the most positive of thinkers.

  Anna refused to be distracted. ‘How do we see Asia’s future? Not now, but in two years’ time? Five years? Ten?’

  ‘It’ll come good. Eventually.’

  ‘Then isn’t now the time to get ourselves involved?’

  ‘Make a lot more sense to wait, I’d have said.’

  Anna was fed up. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we don’t know whether their economies have bottomed yet. Unless your crystal ball is telling you.’

  ‘My crystal ball says it makes more sense to get in when prices are low than when they’re high. If we wait until the Asian economies are on their way up again, it’ll be too late.’

  There was a twenty-minute discussion. At the end, by a single vote, the Board agreed to follow Anna’s lead.

  ‘I hoped you’d see it like that,’ Harry Dann said. He took a typed letter from his folder and laid it flat upon the table. Looked at Anna.

  ‘It’s Mostyn,’ he said.

  ‘You bastard,’ Anna said.

  Harry Dann polished off his drink and snapped his fingers for a refill. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Like you said, if the figures stack up it’s a very good opportunity for us. But I wasn’t sure you’d back a Mostyn bail-out. So I put it to you as a matter of principle.’

  ‘Is he really in that much trouble?’

  ‘He was very close to Suharto. Now the old man’s gone, there are a hundred institutions screaming for their money.’

  ‘Surprising he came to us, all the same.’

  ‘You think so?’

  Dann was cautious; no one knew the state of the game where Anna and Mostyn were concerned. They were divorced, but these days that didn’t mean much. It was possible he still had some influence over her.

  Maybe Mostyn thinks so himself, Anna thought. He’s in for a disappointment if he does. What’s more he’s given me an opening.

  ‘My support is conditional,’ she said.

  Dann looked alarmed. Anna’s defection could kill the proposal before it got off the ground. ‘Conditional on what?’

  ‘You said they were the sort of partners we’d be happy to get into bed with.’

  ‘So they are. Mostyn —’

  ‘I know more about getting into bed with Mostyn than you do.’

  Dann’s mouth disapproved; some things were better unsaid.

  ‘Mostyn,’ she said succinctly, ‘is a shit.’

  From bad to worse. ‘Who knows business backwards,’ he challenged.

  ‘Is that why he needs us? Because he knows business backwards or because he’s in trouble up to his neck? If he wants our help he must pay for it. He’s got something I want; I’ll settle for that.’

  ‘Your personal affairs have nothing to do with this,’ Harry protested. ‘It’s a matter for the Board —’

  ‘Call it a test of good faith. I’ll talk to him, get back to you.’

  ‘But —’

  Anna had done with chat. She drained her glass, got to her feet.

  ‘Either he goes along or he can jump off the Harbour Bridge, far as I’m concerned. See you, Harry.’

  She went back to her office, phoned Mostyn at once. It was after nine but if he was in trouble he’d be there. Being Mostyn, he was likely to be there anyway, she thought maliciously; it was not as though he had a home to go to, any more.

  He was there, all right. Frayed around the edges, by the sound of it.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘The United Minerals board met today —’

  ‘I’m fully aware of that. I’ve been expecting Harry to phone me. I hope you realise what a great opportunity this is for you —’

  ‘Asia at the moment is hardly that for anyone.’

  ‘Couple of years, she’ll be right —’

  She cut off his salesman’s pitch. ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘Come and talk, then. I need an hour —’

  ‘My office. Twenty minutes.’

  And put down the phone.

  He came. Of course; he had no choice.

  Anna looked at him across her acre of desk, now clear of all papers. It was an odd feeling to look at this man and think of the place he had once filled in her life.

  Water under the bridge.

  He played his bravado card, as she had known he would. ‘What do you want to talk about?’

  ‘You,’ Anna said. ‘And me.’

  She saw from his eyes that he had not been expecting that. You’re slipping, she thought. Not so long ago you would never have shown your feelings as clearly as that.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he told her sincerely, ‘what a fool I was to have walked out the way I did.’ And risked a smile. ‘I’ve always had a hot temper, you know that —’

  She said, ‘You make me puke. The Board talked over your proposal. It’s evenly divided. Some are willing to go with it, others want to run a mile. No doubt you’ll check it out —’

  ‘I offered it to United Minerals as a favour. If you don’t want to run with it —’

  ‘Spare me. You’d have tried everyone else in Sydney before you came to us.’ She looked him up and down. ‘Whether we go ahead or not depends on me. I can swing it either way. If you want my support, you’ll have to buy it.’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘Meaning Oudekraal.’

  He had to try. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I know all about the deal you stitched up with Chris Tembe …’

  ‘Then you know it’s too late to do anything. The legislation’s already before the South African parliament.’

  ‘If you don’t back off you’re dead,’ she said.

  ‘I doubt it’s possible …’

  ‘Do it, that’s all. Just do it.’

  Impasse.

  ‘If I agree, do you guarantee support over this Asia business?’

  She smiled; she had him by the shorts, and they both knew it. ‘I guarantee nothing. You’ll have to wait and see.’

  ‘Be damned to that —’

  ‘Good night, Mostyn.’

  She took a file from the tray on her side table, opened it and began to read the papers inside. Mostyn might have ceased to exist. He got up, fuming, but decided he still had to try. He smiled down at her. ‘Want a bite to eat?’

  She did not look up. ‘I wouldn’t eat with you if you were the last man on earth.’

  A killing look, then. He marched towards the door, shoulders vengeful. She waited until he had almost reached it. She said, ‘Harry wants an early decision. If within three days from now Pieter Wolmarans hasn’t received written government confirmation of his freehold title to Oudekraal — in perpetuity — I shall withdraw my support on Asia.’

  And went back to her papers.

  Mosty
n walked down the corridor to the lift. He was seething, but knew there was no help for it; he would have to buy Tembe off. This was not a town where you could count on too many good Samaritans. Things had gone rotten in Asia; he had called in all his favours but no one was interested. With Suharto gone the tide had turned again. The Board was getting ready to chuck him. Once again Hennessy was riding high. He had to come up with answers within days, or it would be too late. And, as Anna had guessed, he had tried everywhere else first.

  He had to put up with Anna’s crap. He even had to grin; without her he was dead. After all the years on top, he wasn’t prepared to start all over again.

  The bottom line was that Oudekraal, even the revenge he had anticipated so eagerly, was expendable.

  The lift sighed to a stop. As Mostyn went out into the street he looked up at Anna’s light still burning on the twenty-second floor. He would gladly have gone straight back and cut her throat but it was far too late for that. Any throat-cutting to be done, Anna would be holding the knife.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  The High Commissioner said, ‘Oudekraal is safe.’ ‘Thank God. How —’

  He smiled, shaking his head. ‘Don’t ask.’

  ‘I am very grateful.’

  ‘You had a hand in it yourself, I think.’

  She pretended ignorance. ‘In what way?’

  ‘From what I hear, your ex-husband is not the sort to back away unless he is forced,’ he said. ‘I had nothing to do with that.’

  She smiled. ‘It is amazing what one is willing to do when the need arises.’

  ‘Indeed. Once all I could think about was killing and violence. I make no apologies; at the time it was necessary. But now I have changed my views. Unlike some of my colleagues, I believe true peace will come only when we turn our backs on the past and join together to build a new future.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘Unfortunately there is still one thing that stands in our way.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘Poverty.’ He paused, studied her for a moment in silence. ‘I want to do you a favour,’ he said.

  Behind his chair the zigzag flag of the new South Africa hung limply. Its colours were right for a black land, Anna thought; bold and gaudy and alive, with a hint of violence.

  ‘A favour? What might that be?’

  ‘You told me once that you wanted more out of life than money.’

  It sounded like the glib rubbish spoken so often by the rich. She had said it and meant it, but now was embarrassed to be reminded of it.

  ‘I’m not complaining. I do all right.’

  ‘A pity not everyone’s so lucky.’

  Watching him, time seemed to be playing tricks. Instead of the Saville Row suit, the silk tie, she saw only the massive chest, shoulders bulging the thin T-shirt, thighs potent with power. She remembered his barely suppressed rage; remembered, too, their second meeting and its aftermath. Her memory of that encounter was a taste that even after fifteen years still lingered on her tongue.

  ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘In the old days, no one was willing to talk to Vorster or Botha, to any of the leaders of South Africa. Now we have access to the highest officials everywhere. Mandela wants to see Clinton, the Pope, Gaddafi — he has only to ask. It’s the same for the rest of us. Last month I saw the Secretary General of the United Nations.’

  And paused, watching her.

  She did not understand. ‘So?’

  ‘So I told him there were two hundred million starving people in Africa. More than that in Asia and South America.’

  ‘There are agencies.’

  ‘Of course. Voluntary agencies, government agencies, even United Nations agencies. We need something bigger, coordinated at top level. We need a World Commissioner for the eradication of hunger.’

  ‘A big title,’ said Anna, suspicious of titles.

  ‘A big job,’ Shongwe told her. ‘An important job. Possibly the most important job in the world.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘Because I think you are the right person to do it.’

  She was astounded; laughed to shield herself from disbelief. ‘You don’t have the authority to give it to me.’

  ‘I have access to those who do.’

  ‘Then let them contact me.’

  ‘Agree in principle and they will. You can’t expect the Secretary General to waste time on you if you’re not interested.’

  She heard herself say, ‘I never said I wasn’t interested.’

  ‘Does that mean yes?’

  ‘I don’t know why you think I can do it.’

  ‘I’ll tell you.’ He raised his fingers, ticking off points one by one. ‘You have a political background.’

  ‘A long time ago.’

  ‘You were offered a ministry in the New South Wales government only recently.’

  ‘Which I turned down.’

  ‘The political connection is there.’ He flipped the second finger. ‘You have top-level business contacts, worldwide. You have an interest in the disadvantaged. You have the ability and experience.’

  ‘The UN is a rat hole of incompetence. Why should I waste my time with them?’

  ‘Because it may be the last chance the world has to put things right.’

  She was silent. The magnitude of the challenge stunned, humbling her. ‘There are others better qualified than I am. Why me?’

  ‘Because you care.’

  ‘I am nobody.’

  She heard the appeal in her voice, crying out against the terrors of what he offered.

  ‘You are the one we need.’

  She thought, I do not want this. It is nonsense even to think about it. I have my own life, the prospect of a future with the man I love. Which I have been lacking for so long. Which by a miracle I have now regained.

  The fear of what she would lose made her angry. It was too much to give up. Too much for anyone.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  He watched her across his desk. ‘Two hundred million in Africa alone.’

  She shut her mind to an image of suffering so vast as to be incomprehensible.

  ‘I wouldn’t be able to do anything. No one can. It’s too huge a problem.’

  ‘So we ignore it.’

  She stared at him across the desk, seeing not the High Commissioner’s dark features but Mark Forrest, watching her in silence.

  ‘If you had asked me a month ago —’

  There was a note of desperation in her voice. Was it selfish, to want her own life? To place it, and the man she loved, ahead of the suffering of millions? Of course it was, but it made no difference. Mark was more important to her than the starving hordes of Africa and Asia.

  It was an appalling admission, shaming her. It was the truth.

  You call yourself a humanitarian. ‘If I felt I would really be able to do anything …’

  Such a feeble offering; she could have choked on her own hypocrisy. She remembered herself, two weeks before, lying in bed and waiting in fear and delight for Mark to join her. How she had thought of Anneliese.

  From her I learned something of what truth means, the sacrifice that truth demands. And something else. Pray God I am never put to such a test.

  She stared in anguish at the man on the other side of the desk. ‘Please don’t judge me …’

  ‘I would not presume to do that,’ he said. ‘You have a life to lead, as we all have. Besides, there is no need.’ Effortlessly, he set his hook in her tormented spirit. ‘You will do that for yourself.’

  Her expression darkened. ‘That is presumptuous.’

  ‘I apologise. For a moment, two hundred million people made me forget my manners.’

  After Anna had left him, Adam Shongwe sat at his desk, thinking over their conversation. He had given it his best shot. Either she would come back or she wouldn’t.

  He hoped very much that she would. Get the job and, with luck, he would be able to talk her into channelling aid
to South Africa, funds that would help kick-start its ailing economy.

  It would be good for the country; even better for Adam Shongwe. It would give him the clout to become what he wanted more than life itself, a key player in South African politics. Even the presidency would not be beyond his grasp.

  Glory beckoned. If only she took the job.

  Anna caught the shuttle to Sydney and went home. She thought. And thought.

  She prowled the house, the garden gay with flowers. She sat on the stone balustrade dividing the lawn from the water, stared across the harbour at the city’s buildings gleaming golden in the sunlight.

  Faces everywhere. Forms as silent and wistful as shadows. The spindle limbs and bloated bellies, eyes huge in wizened faces. Children, stoic, dying by degrees. Adults wasted beyond capacity for anger. Bodies stacked like firewood.

  You are the one we need.

  A nightmare. A reproach that, if she did nothing, would haunt her forever.

  Mark came, as they had arranged. She told him of her meeting with Adam Shongwe, what had been said.

  ‘Thank God you had the sense to say no.’

  ‘Yes.’ But hesitantly.

  He looked at her. ‘You did say no?’

  ‘Yes. Oh yes.’ She took two paces, stiff-legged, across the room. Came back. Two paces, and back.

  ‘But …?’ he prompted her, frowning.

  ‘It is such an important job —’

  ‘In New York.’

  ‘I think he said Geneva …’

  ‘What about us?’

  ‘I said no!’

  She opened her arms, despairingly, but the gulf that had opened between them remained.

  ‘I don’t understand you.’ He stared at her, eyes hot. Behind him sunlight reflecting from the waters of the harbour dazzled her eyes with spears of glittering, golden light. ‘All these wasted years and, as soon as we find each other, you’re thinking of taking off again.’

  ‘It makes no difference.’ She sought to appease him. ‘I probably would never have got it, anyway.’

  ‘If it’s not this job, it’ll be another one. The point is you’re thinking of moving on. Already.’

  ‘If I went, if I changed my mind, you could come with me. Couldn’t you? You said yourself you’ve gone as far as you can where you are now.’