Hyena Dawn

by Christopher Sherlock

  ‘Well, sir, the standard rate’s twenty per person per night, and the deluxe rate’s twenty-six. In the deluxe you get a lounge area and your own fridge. You also get a colour TV and colour- coordinated wallpaper and curtains.’

  ‘OK. Two deluxe rooms - one for my friend here, and one for the lady and myself. And we’d like them next to each other.’

  ‘My pleasure, sir.’ He leered knowingly. ‘I’ll get your keys right away.’

  Rayne woke up at six the next morning. He resisted the temp­tation to stay in bed beside Sam, who was still sleeping soundly, but got up and made some coffee. Then he dressed and went out for the morning paper.

  He enjoyed the Rand Daily Mail, a paper which did its best to fight the restrictions of the South African government. He was pleased to see that there was no mention of the helicopter, and read with interest an editorial on the attack on Beira, which declared that it was obviously an attempt by the Rhodesian government to weaken Robert Mugabe.

  He turned idly to the business section. To his surprise, a picture of Bernard Aschaar completely dominated the first page. His mining consortium, the Goldcorp Group, was evidently set on acquiring even more mines, and Aschaar argued that this consolidation of interests would bring about a reduction in the cost of producing gold. Rayne was sure that was the last thing Aschaar intended to happen.

  He handed the paper over to Sam and poured coffee.

  ‘That’s interesting, Rayne.’

  ‘What, the editorial on the raid?’

  ‘No, this article that says a new Russian general has arrived to take over Soviet interests in Mozambique.’

  ‘But what about Vorotnikov?’

  ‘According to the article he died of a heart attack on the day of the assault.’

  ‘What a coincidence!’

  ‘You don’t think his death was an accident?’

  ‘I doubt it. You know Aschaar was with him or had just left him at the time?’

  ‘Foul play?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Rayne started thinking. Aschaar’s power was awesome; he had been naive to think it would be easy to get his revenge. Perhaps he needed help from someone else, someone who knew Aschaar well, had access to him, and could help put him away. There must be many others who felt about Aschaar as Lois and he did.

  Rayne had two things on Aschaar: his involvement in the invasion of Rhodesia, and his having paid Lois to sabotage that plane all those years ago. Penelope had been in that plane - and he’d seen in the paper today that she was spending a couple of weeks in Johannesburg. She could put him in touch with her father, Sir George, who was on the CMC and must know Aschaar intimately.

  Rayne cleared the papers from the bed, pulled Sam down next to him and held her close. He needed her, he loved her and he wished that they could go away together, just to have some time alone. But he had to get John Fry and Bernard Aschaar.

  ‘Sam. Two things. What I want us to do today is, I want to tell you in detail, from first to last, everything about the assault on Beira, and I want you to write it down, and then we’ll see if we can find a typewriter anywhere in this dump, and maybe you could type it up. I’m not sure what I want to do with it yet, but I think we have to make a detailed account of everything that happened - if only for insurance purposes. Are you with me?’ Sam nodded.

  ‘And then this evening I want to go and see Penelope O’Keefe. I want to talk to her about Bernard Aschaar. I’ve told you about her, haven’t I? There’s nothing between us now, I swear it.’

  ‘All right, Rayne. I believe you!’

  They put the finishing touches to the account late that after­noon. Rayne had added an appendix listing every character involved in the operation.

  ‘Rayne, any editor in the world would give a year of his life to be able to print this story. It’s incredible!’

  ‘You’ll have to hold your horses on that. I’m sure it will be published in the end, but let’s see how we go, take things step by step.’

  ‘What are your plans for John Fry, Rayne? You haven’t said anything yet about him. How are you going to make contact?’

  Rayne smiled grimly. ‘I’m still working on it. But I think I know someone who might be useful.’

  That evening, before Rayne went out, they drank a toast and then sat still for a few minutes, thinking of those who had not made it out of Mozambique alive. Sam thought about Tongogara. One day she would write a book about him, to make sure his story did not die.

  The outside bar at the Sunnyside Park Hotel was one of Johan­nesburg’s favourite watering-holes, and as Rayne drove past he could see that the area round the pool was filled with late-night revellers. The hotel that lay behind, however, was far more exclusive. It had once been the official residence of Lord Milner, the governor of the Transvaal after the British victory in the Boer War. Rayne parked among the Mercedes and the BMWs, thinking how much of the atmosphere of that time the building still retained.

  Rayne knew that someone like Penelope would not receive uninvited visitors, so he waited till the man at the reception desk turned his back to take a phone call, then spun the visitors’ book quickly towards himself. Penelope O’Keefe had the sixth floor to herself. He headed for the stairs - a better bet than the lift, which he suspected might not go as far as the exclusive sixth floor without the use of a special key.

  The sixth floor was dimly lit. Facing him across the landing was a majestic set of double doors. Rayne was halfway across the carpet when a dark form intercepted him, and he found himself staring straight into the eyes of a typical strong-arm - unintelli­gent but vicious.

  ‘I suggest you get out of here, mate.’ The accent was surly and the words were spat out in his face.

  ‘I’ve come to visit Miss O’Keefe. I have an appointment.’

  ‘I don’t think so. She didn’t tell me she was expecting anyone.’

  ‘Let me see her!’

  The next moment the man took a well-aimed swing at him with his right fist. Rayne neatly side-stepped, grabbing the arm as it zipped past his ear and twisting it expertly up and back behind the man’s back. Then he rammed the man’s face into the wall, and he fell unconscious to the floor.

  Rayne pulled off the man’s tie and bound his hands behind his back. Then he slipped off the belt from the man’s trousers and tightly bound his legs together. He carried the inert body to the bannister above the stairwell and, double-checking the strength of the knot round his feet, hung the man face-down into the void. This done, he walked back to the double doors and rapped on them sharply.

  He heard her voice from the next room. ‘I told you I was not to be disturbed.’

  Rayne walked through and saw the woman he had loved many years before lying in a silk dressing-gown on a chaise-longue, watching the television. She was more beautiful even than he remembered - almost too perfect. She turned and stared at him uncomprehendingly.

  ‘Who the hell are you? And how did you get past Max?’ Her accent had an American twang to it.

  He sat down on an easy chair facing her and crossed his legs. ‘He’s big, slow and as thick as they come.’

  ‘That’s true. Don’t I know you from somewhere . . . ?’

  She got up from the couch and walked towards him with a slow, sensuous movement that was entirely natural to her. She took his face in her hands.

  ‘God, Rayne, you’ve changed. I’d heard you were dead. You never wrote, never stayed in touch.’ She stared at him. ‘And what have you become, Rayne? You who had the most talent out of anyone I knew?’ He was silent. She said, ‘How did you know I was here?’

  ‘I saw the article in the paper and put two and two together. You always loved this hotel.’

  ‘And you know all about me?’

  ‘I’ve seen your films, they were on circuit in Rhodesia. You’re a brilliant actress, a star. I always knew you’d do it.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got it all - fame, wealth and beauty. What more could I want?’

  ‘You don’t
fool me with that kind of sarcasm, Penelope. You like what you’ve got. I think you’ve turned yourself into the sort of person you always dreamed of becoming.’

  ‘And what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing. Now how does one get a drink round here?’

  ‘That cabinet in the corner. You can get me a whisky while you’re about it. Just ice.’

  Rayne poured and handed Penelope her glass. ‘To our youth.’ ‘You’ve got someone else, of course, you bastard. Tell me, what’s she like?’

  Suddenly he wished he hadn’t come. He would have preferred to remember the old Penelope. She was even more attractive now, but she was hard - as hard as fame and fortune could make her.

  ‘She’s an American, a journalist. A very strong independent woman like yourself.’

  ‘Spare me the compliments. Is she attractive?’

  ‘Yes, she is attractive.’

  ‘The bitch, I hate her.’

  ‘Come off it Penelope, do you know how many women must hate you? You can have any man you want.’

  ‘The only men I want I can’t have. Everything else I get. Fate has been cruel to me, Rayne.’

  He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Her bitterness was bizarre.

  ‘Don’t look so astonished, Rayne. You’re one of the few men I can be honest with. You come to me like a thief, so you might as well steal my secrets. By the way, where is my so-called bodyguard?’

  ‘Hanging upside down from the stair-rail.’

  Penelope ran out of the room to see for herself. She came back laughing and called the manager to have the man cut free.

  ‘His face has gone purple!’ she said, pouring herself another Scotch. ‘I don’t know how you did it!’

  It was her third drink since he’d arrived. Rayne wondered if alcoholism had been one of the other perks of her success.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that, I can drink Scotch just like my

  father. There’s far worse than this to get addicted to in Holly­wood.’

  She looked him up and down, then smiled mischievously. ‘If you walk round Johannesburg dressed as you are, people will think you’re an out-of-work game ranger.’ She smiled at him. ‘But I know better. Oh yes, don’t look so surprised. I’ve followed your career quite closely. Actually, I always thought you’d go into politics in support of the black people, not devote yourself to shooting them down.’

  The anger flared through Rayne like a sudden whirlwind. He picked her up by her wrists and held her close to his face. ‘You bitch!’

  Suddenly he was kissing her uncontrollably and her arms were round his back. She aroused the same responses in him as she always had; and the passion was still strong in her too. When he pushed her gently away, she started to cry and sat down on the couch next to him.

  ‘What’s wrong with me, Rayne, why don’t you want me?’

  He could feel how vulnerable to her charms he still was, and he got up from the couch and walked to the balcony. He looked down at the people far below. It wasn’t worth it. If he betrayed Sam, he would lose her. He heard Penelope’s voice behind him, echoing his thoughts. ‘You want to keep her, don’t you? Well, that’s your decision. You can stay my friend at least.’

  He turned back to face her, more in control of himself now. She sat on the couch, looking at him, her legs drawn up close to her body, her arms hugging her knees.

  ‘Why did you come here, Rayne?’

  ‘I had to see you. I’ve found out about a few things that happened to us long ago. You remember the air crash?’

  ‘I still have nightmares about it.’

  ‘Well, it was no accident, it was organised - killing you was to be a way of destroying your father. The man behind it went to great lengths to cover the whole thing up, but now the secret’s out and I mean to get him. And I think you might be able to help me.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘A man by the name of Bernard Aschaar, acting head of the Goldcorp Group.’

  Penelope looked aghast. She turned to the window. ‘It can’t be! I had dinner with him the other evening. He’s such a pleasant, worldly man.’

  ‘Yes, very worldly. You should have asked him what he was up to last week.’

  She sat down on the couch and looked up at him. ‘I did. He said he was up in Kenya, looking over some mines.’

  ‘He was in Mozambique, in conference with a Russian general. I saw him with my own eyes.’

  He saw the disquiet grow on Penelope’s face. She leaned forward anxiously.

  ‘He’s just about to sign a major deal with my father. Daddy has been against selling his mines for years, but this time the offer was too good to refuse.’

  ‘All Aschaar wants is power. And he’ll do anything to get it. He’s a madman. Whatever deal your father does with him, I can assure you there’ll be problems.’

  Penelope finished her whisky and stood up. ‘You must speak to my father, Rayne. You must tell him what you’ve told me.’

  Rayne stared into her eyes. He had to be sure that she would not run to Aschaar.

  ‘All this must remain between us, Penelope. I have a score to settle with Bernard Aschaar. If he has any idea of who I am or that I’m still alive, I’ll be in great danger. No one knows that I’m back here except for you, and I want it to stay that way.’

  She tossed her head back, her eyes flashing. ‘Don’t you think you can trust me, Captain Gallagher?’

  Yes, he could trust her. There was a core of true steel inside Penelope, always had been. ‘I trust you,’ he said.

  She smiled. ‘I think it’s a good idea to talk to my father. He’s one of the most powerful men in the mining business. He sits on the CMC, you know, and he’s in contact with Aschaar on an almost daily basis. If you’re looking for revenge, I’m sure my father can tell you the best way to get to him.’

  ‘All right. Can you reach him tonight?

  Penelope got up. ‘I’ll phone him now.’

  While she was telephoning from the next room, Rayne walked over to the balcony and gazed down at the people arriving at the hotel for dinner, ready for an enjoyable Friday evening. What the hell am I doing? he asked himself. I should have taken the first plane out of the country with Samantha and forgotten the whole business.

  But then he thought of the men who were lying dead on an old landing strip in Beira. His face hardened and he turned away.

  Penelope came back into the room. ‘He’ll be here soon.’ She pulled her silk gown tight around her waist and grinned mischiev­ously. ‘While we’re waiting for him, you and I can have a nice chat about old times!’

  Rayne was surprised at how old Sir George looked, but his presence, his air of authority, were the same as ever.

  ‘God, Rayne, I hardly recognised you. I believe, from the little

  I’ve heard, you’ve seen quite a bit of action in the last few years? Now, what’s this you want to talk to me about?’

  Rayne told him the whole story about Aschaar and the plane. Sir George’s face grew longer and longer as he listened, and when Rayne moved on to the subject of Mozambique, he asked Penelope for a second whisky. Clearly, he could hardly believe what he was hearing. After Rayne had finished, he was silent for some time.

  ‘It all makes sense,’ he said at last. ‘I can see now that the bastard’s been trying to put the screws on me for years - and I’ve never realised it! Obviously he’s decided to start buying me out. That Mozambique business is a real eye-opener. He should be put away for life! He’s nothing less than a cold-blooded mur­derer. My mining company, together with those other mines he already owns in Rhodesia - that will give him enormous power. But what can anyone do to stop him?

  ‘Sonja Seyton-Waugh’s been taking on the Goldcorp Group recently, but it’s a tough battle, I can tell you. I don’t know how you could catch a man like Aschaar out. He’s too wily to find himself in a court of law.’

  He took out one of his cards and handed it to Rayne.

  ‘That’s my private
number. I’ll give you any support you need. If you’re in trouble, just call me. Needless to say, my own deal with Aschaar will be off. From what you’ve told me, I’ve escaped very lightly.’

  Rayne weighed his next words very carefully.

  ‘Sir George. I have a proposition for you. You tell Aschaar that the deal is still on, but that you’ve brought in an expert to structure your side of the deal. You raise the purchase price of your mining utilities to an exorbitant amount, and you tell Aschaar that your new expert advised you to do this, and say that if he wants to negotiate he must deal directly with him.’

  ‘And you will be that expert?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘You’ll be playing with fire, Rayne.’

  ‘There’s no other way I can get into Aschaar’s headquarters without raising his suspicions. I know the risks, Sir George. Once I’m in there, I can put my own plans into action. You ring him tomorrow and tell him about the new deal.’

  ‘All right, you’re on. I’ll set the ball rolling with a call to Aschaar in the morning.’

  When Sir George had gone, Rayne took Penelope’s hand and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thanks, Penelope. Thank you for everything.’

  ‘Business is over, so it’s back to the little woman?’

  ‘Maybe if you met her, you’d hate her less.’

  She looked at him tauntingly. It took all the strength he could muster to give her one more chaste kiss upon the lips, and then walk slowly away.

  Sam was lying on the bed when he got back, face-down and fully clothed. As he approached her, she turned over and stared up at him, and he could see at once that she must have been crying for a long time.

  ‘So did you enjoy yourself, Rayne? It must have felt good after all these years. You bastard.’

  He bent over the bed and tried to pull her towards him - and she rained blows at his face. One struck him so hard that his nose started to bleed. ‘Take your hands off me!’ she cried.

  ‘Pull yourself together, Sam. Penelope means nothing to me.’ ‘Don’t lie to me, for God’s sake. Spare me that!’