Chapter 5
Much to McBride’s surprise, when he was packing to leave next morning amongst his emails was a reply from Dusty Miller. He wondered why such a quick reply. Surely Dusty wasn’t backing out.
Hi John, Things are moving fast here. We’ve learned a lot about Markham, my employer has lots of spies, I’ve discovered, and has lots of ideas. I think you ought to get over here fastest. The King wants you to take some accommodation at the Palace as his guest. You could do worse, so I agreed on your behalf. Soon as you get here we can put our heads together and string the conman along. Advise your flight details soonest. Fly into Jo’burg on KLM. The King will have you met by limo, and driven straight to his Palace. Waiting your urgent reply. Dusty
McBride lugged his case downstairs, and left it in the entrance hall. By the time he reached the dining room Smith was sitting at the table leafing through the morning paper.
“Good morning John, it’s a beautiful day out. Not that I’ve been far, just on to the terrace.”
“I’ve just had an email from Dusty Miller, he wants me in Africa soon as I can get there. He wants me to fly into Jo’burg, where I will be met by one the king’s men and driven straight to his palace.”
“You get the adventures I always crave. What country is it again?”
“I don’t think I ever told you. It’s Maswatiland. Small kingdom of about one million population, one boundary common to South Africa. Mostly Zulu and Bantu population. There are a couple of nature reserves, so it is popular with tourists. Dusty told me that the king was educated in England. Now Dusty runs his army, minuscule as it is.”
“Taken to the palace, you say? Does that mean you are staying with the king?”
“Seems so, according to the email. I’m leaving this morning, get home and sort a few things out, book a flight, get your cheque in the bank, grab some lightweight clothing and be off the next day.”
“I hardly see you these days.”
“You shouldn’t be such a slave driver.”
“Rubbish! And remember, John, think about the United States, It would be such a waste if you don’t develop your full potential.”
McBride smiled and gave Smith a slap on the back. “I’ll consider it. I said I would.”
McBride got home at lunchtime. The first job he did was to book a KLM flight online from Manchester via Amsterdam to Jo’burg. He had vowed to travel Business class on the basis of if you’ve got it, flaunt it. But when he saw the price difference he was tempted to fly economy, but ticked business class, and four thousand and odd pounds vanished from his bank account. At least he had a higher baggage allowance, which he needed with his art gear. It would be an early start, the connecting plane from Manchester left at 0700 hours. He decided to stay at an airport hotel that night, and booked that next. Then he emailed Dusty gave his flight details as requested.
He got a quick snack at his local, and deposited Smith’s cheque at his bank. Then it was back to pack, and off to Manchester and his hotel. He packed his Lomax Diana camera and instant print back. He had bought it some months ago, but never used it. He knew that he would never paint fast enough to truly capture the animals in the safari park without some cheating. He would set up his easel, and when he got animals in shot take instant photos. Then he would paint the view, using the photos to jog his memory as he painted them.
Having a business class ticket got him into the executive lounge at Manchester, and was sipping coffee while he waited for the plane. He got a quick connection at Amsterdam, and aboard the A380 Airbus with time to spare. Whether his luggage was aboard with him, he wouldn’t find out until they arrived at Jo’burg.
He remembered that KLM had a dodgy record with luggage. Probably most airlines did. The travel time was eleven hours and fifty minutes, with only a one hour time difference from Amsterdam. He was pleased about that. The advantage of travelling down the longitude lines rather than across the latitudes. He slept for a long time, with his seat converted to a bed. Mealtimes and reading filled in some more time. He walked up and down the aisles for exercise and eventually the captain announced that they were on the descent for Jo’burg.
It was dark now of course, and he could see the large cluster of lights that was the sprawl of the combined city. They landed within three minutes of schedule and taxied up to a landing pier. As a business class passenger, McBride was one of the first to leave the plane. He quickly got through immigration, and down to the baggage carousels. After a considerable wait, he spotted his luggage, and grabbed as it passed him. It was all present and intact. He loaded a baggage trolley and pushed through the green lane in customs, and out to the landside. There were quite a few people crowding near the gate waiting for passengers, and McBride spotted his name on a card being held high by a chauffeur in uniform with a peaked hat. When he spotted McBride waving at him, his thick lipped face broke into a grin, showing white teeth accentuated by the swarthy skin.
The chauffeur shook him by the hand, introduced himself as Mapoza.
He led the way outside into a crisp fine evening. There was a white Range Rover, parked right outside, the only car on the triple yellow lines. On the front of the bonnet was a flag, and McBride noticed the CD plates. Parking with impunity. Would you expect less from a king, even of a small time kingdom?
The chauffeur went to open the rear door, but McBride shook his head, and pointed to the front passenger seat. Mapoza nodded, and McBride was installed in the front passenger seat. Mapoza went to the rear to supervise the packing of the luggage, and then they were off.
“How long is the journey to the palace?” asked McBride, not knowing how good the man’s English might be.
Mapoza looked at his wristwatch. “At this time of night, Sir, maybe four hours.” McBride looked round the interior of the Range Rover as they edged out of the airport, joining the lanes of vehicles leaving. This car was seriously top spec. McBride sank into the plush white leather seat, his head comfortable against the restraint. Polished wood inserts covered the dash, and doors. When Mapoza accelerated on to the N12, McBride was pushed back into his seat by the force. But the chauffeur was a top driver, and never once gave McBride any cause for worry. After about three hours, the road narrowed slightly, with warning verge-side signs ‘border crossing’ repeated, and red lights further up the road. The verge sign now said ‘prepare to stop’. The Range Rover eased up to about forty miles per hour. There were two border patrolmen, and they stepped back from the road, and waved the car through. The chauffeur held up his hand in greeting, and accelerated through the border consisting of a wooden building on each side of the road. The road was now marked as MR1.
McBride expected the road quality to deteriorate once in Maswatiland, but the same excellent road surface continued. He remembered the sign that passports had to be shown. Obviously it didn’t apply to the king’s guests. A sign to the left indicated Mawabane, and the Range Rover swung on to the diversion, slowing rapidly as it approached the town. Quickly looming up ahead was a wide square, one side filled with the palace, floodlit. Soldiers paced in front behind wrought iron gates.
Mapoza flashed the Range Rover headlights, and swung to the entrance gates. They were immediately opened by two soldiers, and Mapoza drove through without stopping, pulling up to the right of the main entrance, outside an only slightly less imposing entrance with double doors. Mapoza climbed out of the car, went round to McBride’s door and opened it.
“Welcome to the palace. This entrance leads to the guest suites only. You are in Suite 3. He walked forward, and opened the double doors into the building, a young man in a leather apron was on his way out. Mapoza spoke some words in a language McBride didn’t know. “He will fetch your luggage from the car,” said Mapoza. Breakfast will be served in your suite at eight o’clock, and you will have an audience with the king at ten o’clock. Somebody will collect you from your room. Goodnight.” Mapoza, pushed open the door of suite three, handed him a set of keys, and was gone.
McBride walked through into an entrance hall. By trying the doors in turn he discovered a sitting room with a table and four chairs, and a three piece suite of easy chairs. The next door was a comprehensive bathroom, and the third door opened into a bedroom complete with a king-size bed. McBride smiled. Of course it would be. Shattered by his long haul flight, he took a shower, and crawled into bed. He noticed the way that his luggage had arrived in the hallway.
The Ponzi Men Page 5
