‘Sam, nothing happened between Penelope and me. Perhaps something would have happened if I didn’t have you - but I do have you, and it didn’t.’
Sam looked up at him and started crying again. This time he held her very close to him, and gradually he felt her begin to relax. After a little while she went to get a towel, and even managed to smile as she gently cleaned his bloody nose. When she had finished, she lay down next to him on the bed.
‘I’m sorry, Rayne. I couldn’t stop you from going. I knew I mustn’t do that, but I couldn’t stop myself from worrying either. She’s very, very beautiful. Most men would commit murder just to spend an evening out with her.’
Rayne looked up at the cheaply painted ceiling and thought how lonely Penelope was, despite her fame and her looks. ‘Sam, you must learn to trust me,’ he said. ‘If you can’t do that, then we’re never going to make it together.’
‘It sounds so easy.’ She sighed. ‘But emotions aren’t things that just go on and off at the click of a switch. All I can do is try.’ ‘That’s fine, that’s all that really matters.’
‘So what happened?’
He told her briefly.
‘Good,’ she said, when he had finished. ‘But now listen, because I’ve got some interesting information as well. You know you spoke of needing someone to help you get Aschaar, and that it would have to be someone you could trust?’
‘Sir George fits the bill all right.’
‘I think there’s someone even better.’
She handed Rayne some magazine clippings, all showing the same tall, beautiful woman. Rayne looked at Sam, intrigued.
‘Sonja Seyton-Waugh,’ she said. ‘Have you heard of her?’
‘Sir George mentioned her name.’
‘She runs a mining group that most men would be scared to handle. She’s a woman of enormous ability - and from these reports you’ll see she’s gunning for the Goldcorp Group. I happen to know she also hates Bernard Aschaar. And I know her personally - I interviewed her some years back in the States.’
‘That’s excellent, Sam! She sounds just the person we need. Why don’t you get on the phone to her right away.’
Grinning, Sam shook her head. ‘First of all, it’s too late for social calls. And second I’m now going to make love to you so passionately that you’ll never want to think about Penelope O’Keefe ever again.’
Sonja
Rayne knew the number by heart. It rang for a long time before it was answered.
‘Major Long speaking.’
‘It’s Rayne Gallagher.’
There was a lengthy silence.
‘Rayne. I thought you hadn’t made it. I thought ... I have bad news for you.’
‘Sam’s with me, Martin. She’s safe.’
Another silence.
‘Good God, man. I have to see you. There’s so much to explain.’
‘Like the plane that didn’t come to pick us up? Eighteen men dead?’
‘Rayne, it wasn’t me. I didn’t know.’
‘Why, Martin? You knew most of those men. I trusted you as a friend.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Not so fast. You’ll send Fry in to kill me, no doubt.’
‘You bastard!’ The voice on the line cracked with rage and despair. There was something that sounded almost like a sob. Then Martin Long said, ‘Give me a chance. I’ll prove you wrong, lad.’
‘All right. Here’s what I want you to do . . .’
Samantha arrived at the Waugh building early in the morning, smartly dressed in a dark blue suit she’d bought the previous day. She crossed the marble entrance hall and took the old-fashioned lift with its gleaming brass fittings to the top floor.
‘Good morning madam, can I help you?’ A young man in tortoiseshell glasses looked up from his desk in the foyer.
‘Yes, I’d like to see Sonja Seyton-Waugh.’
‘Do you have an appointment, Mrs . . . ?’
‘Samantha Elliot. No, I don’t have an appointment, but I did
an interview with Sonja some years ago in New York and I was wondering if she’d grant me another?’
‘She’s very busy this morning, but I’m sure that if you’re prepared to wait, she’ll see you. Please sit down. This morning’s papers are on the table.’
Moments later the young man returned. ‘Miss Seyton-Waugh would be delighted to see you, Miss Elliot. She won’t be long.’
While she waited Sam once again read through the account of the Mozambique assault that she and Rayne had composed the previous day. She wondered if she was making a fool of herself. For all she knew, Sonja might not be in the least bit interested. She had also brought with her the documents and articles Rayne had taken from the safe-deposit boxes, but the trouble was, they were in Russian . . .
A woman had come in through the door and was staring at her. Sonja Seyton-Waugh was as attractive as ever, but there was also a gentle quality about her that hadn’t been there the previous time Sam had met her.
‘Samantha Elliot. What a nice surprise! Please come through, it’s so long since I saw you.’
Sam smiled warmly. She felt that it would be all right after all.
The spacious office was furnished with antiques, and the floor was strewn with Persian rugs. The view from the window was breathtaking. Sonja said, ‘I’ve read your articles on Rhodesia. They’re great! And I believe you want an interview?’
Sam looked at Sonja again. This woman must know a great deal about Bernard Aschaar, and Sam was sure that she wouldn’t approve of his activities. She could be a valuable ally.
‘Sonja, it’s a long story I’ve come to tell you. In fact it’s so long and complicated that I’ve brought a written account of it for you to read later, if you will. But let me just give you a brief account of it now, myself . . .’
Sonja listened intently as Sam quickly went through her own and Rayne’s experiences in Mozambique. The moment she mentioned the name Aschaar, Sonja’s attention quickened, and by the time she had finished, her listener was staring at her as if hypnotized.
‘What are you going to do, Samantha?’
‘Rayne has two objectives. The first is to find John Fry, the American who made sure that he and his men would not get out of Mozambique alive. The second is to put a stop to Bernard Aschaar once and for all.’
‘You mean, kill him?’
‘To see him brought to justice.’
Sonja got up and walked to the window. ‘I’ve known Bernard
Aschaar for a long, long time. I have strong personal cause to hate him, and I hate him for what he’s doing to the mining industry. I’d like to see him brought to justice too.’ She turned. ‘But, Samantha, I also understand enough to know that bringing Bernard Aschaar to justice will be virtually impossible. And you must realize how dangerous he is. If Aschaar comes to suspect that you’re out to get him, you’re as good as dead.’
‘Rayne took these documents which Fry told him to destroy. They were kept in the bank in Beira. One of them has Bernard Aschaar’s signature - look. But as you can see, they’re all in Russian.’
‘That’s not a problem, I have a friend who’s a lecturer in Russian at the university. Let me have them - if you trust me - and I’ll get them translated.’
‘Thank you, Sonja. And will you meet Rayne, talk to him?’ Sonja nodded, and touched Sam’s shoulder. ‘Fate has brought us together again. There’s someone I’d like you to meet too - someone with his own particular reason for hating Bernard Aschaar, and able, perhaps, to help you bring him to justice.’
Major Martin Long drove the hire car up to the doors of the deserted warehouse. Looking into the rear-view mirror, he saw the vehicle behind him pull well over to the right. Fine, they were in position. He looked down at his watch to check the time, then felt beneath the folds of his dark green anorak and touched the butt of his gun. He shivered. No backing out now.
Rayne looked over at Lois who sat quietly in the passenger seat, the submachine-gun in his
hands covered by a piece of sacking. Lois was utterly dependable. There was no one he’d rather have with him in a tight spot than Lois.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘Major Martin Long may have sold me short, but he’s repaying his debt threefold now - Fry’s a deadly animal.’
‘A KGB agent working for the CIA,’ Lois said. ‘I’d hate to think how many people he’s had killed.’
Through the windscreen Rayne saw Martin Long striding up to the distant warehouse.
‘Martin’s out of his car and moving into the warehouse on foot. Let’s go!’
Martin peered through the gloom. Shafts of early morning sunlight filtered down through the skylights and lit up boxes of machine parts as if they were actors on a stage. He felt uneasy and glanced down at his watch again. Fry was late.
‘Very good, Major. Now please walk into the centre of the building.’
Martin looked round for Fry, but the voice was the only evidence of the American’s presence. He began to walk very slowly forward.
‘Major Long, please. I haven’t all morning to waste. You came here to talk, I understand, so please move into the centre. And remember there’s a rifle trained on you.’
Martin moved into the middle of the warehouse. ‘It’s over, Mr Fry,’ he said. ‘You’re exposed. You’re a bloody communist agent. A traitor and a killer.’
Fry appeared from behind a packing case. ‘What are you talking about, Major?’ There was an unsettled expression on the American’s face.
‘Captain Gallagher has the documents you asked him to destroy. The documents that prove you’re an agent of the KGB.’ He pulled the gun out of his anorak. ‘You killed eighteen fine men, Fry.’
‘Put that gun away, Long. You’re surrounded.’
Coldly, Martin Long pulled the trigger.
Fry lunged towards him. The bullet found its mark but Fry kept coming, seized the gun and pressed the muzzle against Martin’s skull.
‘One word out of you, you son of a bitch, and I’ll blow your fucking brains out.’
Martin wanted to vomit.
He glimpsed the bulletproof vest beneath Fry’s jacket. The American had outguessed him.
‘Where are they, Long?’
‘You won’t get out of here alive.’
Fry raised up the gun butt and brought it down against Martin’s skull. He rolled over unconscious.
Rayne looked across at Lois.
It was five minutes after they’d heard the single shot ring out from inside the warehouse.
‘Is Long admiring his handiwork?’
Lois pulled the sacking from the machine gun. ‘I’m going inside. I think something’s gone wrong.’
Rayne whipped out his pistol and darted in through the door. Inside the warehouse was deathly quiet. They moved quickly along the sides, ducking behind packing cases. It was Rayne who saw Long stagger to his feet. Desperately he looked around for Fry’s corpse. There was no sign of it.
‘He was wearing a bulletproof vest . . Martin looked into Rayne’s eyes.
‘I told him you know he’s a KGB agent. He got away . . .’ Christ, Martin thought, I’ve buggered up again.
They met, the five of them, at six in the evening in Sonja’s beautiful sitting room - Sonja, Deon, Rayne, Lois and Sam. After Sonja had made the introductions, she poured them all a drink and they sat on her leather couches looking at each other rather uncertainly.
‘Since I’m the hostess,’ said Sonja with one of her most glamorous smiles, ‘let me start the ball rolling. Both Deon and I have now read your account of what happened in Beira, and I’ve also had the documents you gave me, Sam, translated by my university friend.’
Rayne thought Sonja was one of the most elegant women he had ever seen. He also liked the look of Deon de Wet; the big man’s face spoke of both suffering and strength, a powerful combination that Rayne understood only too well.
Deon said, ‘The agreements are almost identical. They’re about the setting up of a Marxist state in Rhodesia-Zimbabwe. The earlier agreement is between a KGB agent, John Fry, and the leaders of ZANLA. The later one is between Bernard Aschaar, General Vorotnikov, and the same ZANLA leaders. Is that what you expected, Captain Gallagher?’
Rayne smiled. ‘It’s Rayne, please. Can’t we all be on first- name terms?’ There was a general murmur of assent. ‘Yes,’ he went on, ‘it’s exactly what we anticipated, isn’t it?’ He looked round at Sam and Lois. ‘That first agreement proves John Fry is a double agent - it shows he was actually working for the KGB, negotiating with ZANLA for a KGB-backed invasion of Rhodesia. Then, when the Russian military came on the scene in the shape of General Vorotnikov, the KGB got cold feet and asked Fry to abort the whole thing. So, with his CIA hat on, he recruited us to do it - making sure that we, and all the evidence of his KGB activities, were destroyed in the process.’
‘Only things went wrong for him,’ said Deon, smiling grimly, ‘and you three got out alive, bringing these documents with you. And being the sort of man you are, Rayne, you’re no doubt going to avenge the deaths of those eighteen good men left behind in Mozambique.’
It was Rayne’s turn to look grim. ‘We tried - and we failed. Didn’t we, Lois?’ Stern-faced, Lois nodded.
Rayne lifted his head and looked Deon straight in the eyes. ‘But don’t imagine we’ve finished trying. I’ll get him yet. There are more copies of our Beira story than the one you’re holding, and I think they could be put to good use . . .’ He smiled. ‘But Deon - and Sonja - it’s not really John Fry that we’ve come here to talk to you about, it’s Bernard Aschaar. This second agreement here makes it plain that he’s an extremely dangerous and devious operator, but we have far more evidence of his corrupt and evil doings than this - and I gather from Sam that you’ve suffered severely at his hands too?’
Deon and Sonja looked at each other. Sam saw their hands meet, and Deon give Sonja’s a gentle squeeze. It was obvious that they were very much in love - no need to wonder any longer about the reason for Sonja’s new gentle glow of happiness.
‘It won’t be easy for either of us to talk about it,’ said Deon. ‘The damage the bastard has done to both our lives is immense. But we want to see him put away where he can’t do anyone any more harm, so if you want to hear about what he did to us - what do you think, Sonja?’
Sonja nodded, her eyes bright. ‘Let me get everyone another drink before we begin.’
And so they told the story of their involvement with Aschaar. Deon recounted his investigation of the burglary at Aschaar’s house and how it had led him to Sonja. He told of Aschaar’s obvious partnership with his police boss, General Muller, and how, following Muller’s murder of a suspect in the cells, his marriage had been destroyed and his police career sabotaged in order to intimidate him into keeping silent. He told briefly, with suppressed emotion, of the murder of his brother Pieter. Then Sonja told them about herself, and about Helen, and what Aschaar and Jay Golden had done to them. Finally she talked about Bernard’s ruthless and megalomaniac plans for the South African mining industry.
When they had finished, there was a long silence. Then Lois said, ‘It doesn’t sound much after what you’ve been through, but I’ve had dealings with Mr Bernard Aschaar too,’ and he told them how he had been bribed to sabotage the plane carrying Penelope O’Keefe, and of the dreadful consequences.
‘What an appalling catalogue of evil,’ said Sam at last. ‘And think how many others must also have suffered at his hands!’
‘The thing is,’ said Rayne, ‘what are we going to do about him? What I want to know first is, are you two with me?’
‘You hardly need to ask the question,’ said Sonja, smiling. ‘Of course we are.’
‘Good. Next question: what sort of action shall we take?’
‘I’m in favour of a straight assassination,’ said Deon. ‘High- powered rifle with a telescopic sight. I’ll do it. Probably go for a night shot, just as he’s going into his house.’
‘Cold-blooded.’
‘After what he’s done, I think it’s a pretty painless way to go, Rayne.’
‘And it means descending to his level.’
‘That’s true.’
‘I want to see the bastard publicly humiliated and brought to justice.’ Rayne leaned forward. ‘Listen, here’s my plan. I’ve arranged with Sir George O’Keefe, the mining magnate, to play the part of his negotiator, and I’ve got an appointment to see Bernard Aschaar at eight o’clock tomorrow evening. I’m taking Lois with me, and I want you to come too, Deon - and then I want all three of us to confront Bernard Aschaar with his crimes, and you, Deon, to make a legal arrest.’
‘How do we get past security?’
Rayne grinned. ‘Surely between us we’ve had enough experience of skulduggery to be able to get past a few security men.’ ‘Are we armed?’ asked Lois.
Rayne thought for a moment. ‘I think we have to be. I don’t want to use force - it’s to be a last resort - but Bernard Aschaar’s the sort of man I just don’t want to confront without a pistol in my belt.’
Sam cleared her throat. ‘May I ask a question?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘What about us?’
‘What do you mean, what about us?’
Sam said, ‘I mean, there’s no way that Sonja and I are going to be left out of this, is there, Sonja?’
‘No chance,’ said Sonja. She looked at Deon. ‘You know I have to come,’ she said. ‘You know I have to confront him.’ ‘OK,’ said Rayne. ‘All right. Change of plan. Deon, Sonja and I go up to the meeting with Aschaar. Lois, you and Sam wait downstairs for us in reception, just in case we need a bit of backup.’
‘Just a minute,’ said Lois, ‘I don’t know that I like that.’
‘Lois, you’re the best back-up I ever had. Now don’t quarrel with it.’
‘All right. Whatever you say.’
There was a small pause. ‘That’s it, then,’ said Deon. ‘We’re all set.’
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