‘Pa?’
‘Yes?’
‘You know we spoke yesterday about Todd coming back into the business?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m not sure he’ll do it. And I’m not sure it’s such a good idea if he does.’
Cornelius glared at his eldest son. ‘He’ll do it,’ he said. ‘And I’m going to tell him that tonight.’ He sat down at his desk, placed his reading glasses on his nose and picked up a report. ‘Haven’t you got some numbers to crunch?’
Edwin was dismissed.
‘Ah, there you are, Todd, it’s so good to see you!’ Cornelius strode into his expensively furnished drawing room and clapped his son on the shoulder. ‘And you, Kim.’ He turned to his daughter-in-law and embraced her. ‘I’m sorry to leave you alone down here, but Edwin and I were working on something upstairs. Edwin has to go on to a dinner shortly, but he wanted to stop and say hello.’
Edwin was hovering behind his father at the doorway. He gave his half-brother a thin smile.
‘I see Nimrod found you both a drink,’ Cornelius went on. ‘Is that the Meerlust?’ Cornelius moved over to the sideboard and picked up the wine bottle to check the label. ‘Not bad, is it, Todd?’
‘It’s very good,’ said Todd.
‘It’s absolutely delicious,’ added Kim with more enthusiasm. Despite the damp weather, she was wearing a blue summer dress in honour of her father-in-law and had even applied some lipstick and eye shadow, which had the effect of making her face seem even paler under her dark curls.
‘If you don’t mind, I’ll have something stronger,’ Cornelius said. He poured himself a brandy and Coke and Edwin a tomato juice with a squirt of Worcester sauce. ‘Sit, please.’ They all found armchairs and sofas to perch on. Despite the quality of the furniture and the paintings, the room had a cosy feel to it. Outside, dusk was falling over Regent’s Park and Nimrod had drawn the heavy gold drapes. ‘So you’ve just come from your parents, Kim? I hope they are well?’
‘Oh, they’re both in wonderful form, thanks,’ Kim replied. ‘Liverpool are through to the FA Cup final, which makes Dad very happy, and there seems to have been a complete breakdown in marital fidelity up and down our road, which has given my mother countless hours of amusement.’
‘I must come and watch a game with your father sometime,’ Cornelius said.
‘He’d love that,’ said Kim. ‘And how’s Jessica?’
Jessica Montgomery was Cornelius’s third wife, the daughter of a prominent Philadelphia family. They had been married twelve years. ‘Oh, she’s excited. She’s just bought a new horse and she’s at the farm schooling him now. I would have brought her with me to London, but this is very much a working trip, isn’t it, Edwin?’
Edwin grunted. They all sipped their drinks.
‘We drove down here via Norfolk,’ Kim said. ‘We dropped in on an old friend of mine who has bought an airfield up there.’
‘Oh, yes? Did he take you up in anything?’
‘It was too cloudy,’ Todd said. ‘But he promised to give me a ride in an old Yak provided the weather clears up before we go back to the States.’
‘Sounds fun,’ said Cornelius.
‘I’m dubious,’ Kim said. ‘It’s a very old plane. It looked to me like something out of a museum.’
‘He knows Benton Davis,’ Todd said.
Cornelius frowned. ‘I hope that wasn’t why you were seeing him.’
‘I’ve been trying to see Davis ever since I arrived in England but he’s refused to meet me. We thought perhaps Kim’s friend might have better luck.’
‘Who is this man?’ Cornelius demanded.
‘His name’s Alex Calder,’ Kim said. ‘We were at university together. He used to be a bond trader at Bloomfield Weiss. Which is where Benton Davis still works, as I’m sure you know.’
‘Did he say he would help?’
‘Er …’ Todd hesitated.
‘We’re working on him,’ Kim said firmly.
Cornelius frowned into his drink.
‘Do you still have contact with Benton Davis, Dad?’ Todd asked.
Cornelius slammed his drink down on to the little table beside his chair. ‘Yes, I do. But I’ve told you before, I’m not going to talk to him about that damned letter. Martha was killed nearly twenty years ago. That’s all in the past, in a different world, and it’s going to stay that way.’
‘She was my mother, Dad,’ Todd said quietly. ‘I have a right to know how she died.’
‘How she died? We all know how she died. She was shot, man!’ Cornelius’s voice was rising.
‘Yes, but who shot her? And why?’
‘Guerrillas. Guerrillas shot her.’
‘You don’t really believe that, do you, Dad?’
Cornelius was about to spit out an angry response when he controlled himself. ‘I don’t know who killed her, Todd. It could have been guerrillas, it could have been poachers, it might even have been the security police for all I know. But the thing is she’s dead and there’s nothing we can do to bring her back to life. You won’t remember, but South Africa was a nightmare in the 1980s, hundreds of people dying every year, blacks and whites. I lost my brother. I lost my wife. You lost your mother. That’s why I took you and Edwin and Caroline to America, to put all that behind us, to start again.’
‘I need to know,’ said Todd.
Cornelius stared at his son. Todd stared back.
Edwin coughed. ‘I really must be going,’ he said, carefully placing his half-drunk tomato juice on a side table. ‘I’ll be late.’ He murmured goodbyes to Todd and Kim and left.
There was silence for a moment or two. They all sipped their drinks. Kim and Todd could distinctly hear Edwin go back up the stairs to Cornelius’s study. The dinner engagement was an excuse, but one they were quite happy to accept.
Cornelius could hear his eldest son too. ‘Edwin and I have been working on an interesting deal,’ he said.
‘Uh huh,’ said Todd, with the barest hint of polite curiosity.
‘It’s still very much at the confidential stage, but I can talk to you about it since you are family.’
‘No, please,’ Todd said. ‘I know how careful you have to be about that kind of thing these days.’
Cornelius forced a smile. ‘I’d like to tell you about it. Tell both of you. It’s important to all of us.’ Todd didn’t demur. Cornelius could see that he had awakened his son’s attention. ‘It’s The Times.’
‘You’re going to buy The Times?’
‘That’s the idea. I was talking to Bloomfield Weiss just now about the financing.’ Cornelius leaned back in his armchair watching his son’s reaction.
‘That will be quite a coup if you get it.’
‘Oh, we’ll get it,’ Cornelius said. ‘And you’re right, it’s just what Zyl News needs.’
Todd smiled grudgingly at his father and raised his glass. ‘Well, good luck. I’ll watch what happens with interest.’
‘I was hoping you would do rather more than watch.’
‘You mean …’
‘I’d like you to come back. It’s five years since you worked for me. We miss you.’
Todd shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I enjoy teaching, I like the school, I’ve made my career choice and I want to stick with it.’
‘Todd, I’m a realist, I know this is likely to be my last big deal. But it will be a good one. Zyl News will become one of the top newspaper groups in the world. And when I retire I want a van Zyl to run it.’
‘What about Edwin? He has much more experience than me.’
‘It’s not experience that’s needed,’ Cornelius said. ‘You can hire that. It’s imagination. Vision. I had it. You have it. I saw you when you were working for me. You definitely have it. But I’m afraid Edwin doesn’t.’
‘I’m flattered, Dad, but really. I don’t want to work in newspapers. I want to teach kids.’
Cornelius tensed. He leaned forward in his chair. Todd was still. There was a h
int of fear in his face. It took a lot of courage to stand up to Cornelius van Zyl.
‘Can you leave us for a moment, Kim?’ Cornelius said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kim glanced at her husband. ‘Stay,’ he said. ‘Please stay.’
‘I’d like to speak to you in private,’ Cornelius said.
‘You’re going to talk to me about what I do with my life,’ Todd said. ‘Kim’s part of my life. I want her to hear it.’
‘Very well,’ said Cornelius, glancing at Kim. Kim stared back, politeness replaced by defiance. ‘A teacher’s salary can’t be very high these days.’
‘It isn’t,’ said Todd.
‘And I understand you’ve given up your management consulting?’
‘For the time being,’ Kim said, with steel in her voice.
‘So you will have to rely on your trust fund to provide for you and Kim and your children in the future –’
‘Stop right there,’ Kim said.
‘I’m talking to my son.’
‘You’re not talking to him, you’re bribing him. You’re trying to buy him!’
Cornelius glared at his daughter-in-law. ‘I’m merely pointing out the harsh economic realities of the world.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re trying to make him do what you want him to do, rather than what he wants to do. Well, you can’t. His life, our life, isn’t for sale.’
‘Kim …’ Todd said.
‘This is between Todd and me,’ Cornelius said.
‘You asked Todd whether he wanted to work for you. That was a very generous offer, but he said no, as you knew he would. End of story. There’s nothing more to be said.’
‘Young lady, I will decide what needs to be said. This is the family business we’re talking about, something I have spent most of my life building up. If I want my son to take it over then that’s my prerogative.’
‘No, don’t you see?’ said Kim, her voice rising in frustration. ‘That’s the whole point. It’s his prerogative, not yours.’
Cornelius turned to his son. ‘Tell your wife to shut the fuck up.’
A hostile silence snapped shut on the room. Todd looked from his wife to his father. The agitation left him as he came to a decision. Slowly he drew himself to his feet. ‘I think we won’t be staying for dinner. In fact we won’t be staying here at all.’
His father stood up and faced him. Even at seventy-two, father was about an inch taller than son. ‘You will stay here,’ he growled.
Todd blinked. For a moment it seemed as if he would crack, but the moment passed. ‘Come on, Kim,’ he said, and turned for the door.
‘I was serious about the trust fund,’ Cornelius said. ‘If you walk out of that door you will regret it. Believe me.’
‘Goodnight, Dad,’ Todd said, and he and Kim were gone.
Cornelius picked up his crystal glass of brandy and Coke and flung it at the fireplace, where it shattered into a hundred fragments. It was a long, long time since he had been so angry.
3
The following Tuesday the weather was good, a small high-pressure system dallying over East Anglia for a couple of days. Todd and Kim drove up from London and arrived at the airfield before twelve, Todd excited, Kim apprehensive.
Calder left them sitting on a bench in the sunshine as he ran through a thorough ‘A’ check on the Yak, examining the wings and fuselage, checking the oil and fuel levels, the instruments, the controls and the tyres and making sure the maintenance log was up to date. The aircraft belonged to a retired advertising executive who lived in Burnham Market. He had spent tens of thousands restoring it, and despite its age it was in very good nick. He was happy for Calder to fly it, for a hirer’s fee of course, and Calder had logged about twelve hours. It was fun, but there were only two seats, one in front, one behind. There was no room for Kim.
She looked concerned. ‘Are you sure this thing is safe?’ she asked Calder. ‘It looks like it’s made of Meccano. And it was manufactured in Russia, wasn’t it? Won’t it just fall apart?’
‘It hasn’t yet, and it’s been flying for fifty years. Of course it’s safe. All these aircraft are thoroughly maintained and checked. It’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t know.’ She glanced at her husband, who was untangling his headset.
‘You told me you trusted Alex,’ he said.
Kim turned to Calder. ‘I did. You promise you’ll be all right?’ She looked him straight in the eye.
For a second Calder hesitated. Then he smiled. ‘Of course we’ll be safe. No stunts, I promise.’
He installed Todd in the rear seat and in a few minutes they were up in the sky, washed clear by the previous few days’ rain. The mighty 700-horsepower radial engine growled. The Yak felt to Calder like a giant locomotive as it powered through the air.
‘Have you ever flown a small plane before?’ Calder called over the intercom to Todd.
‘Yeah, back in South Africa. My sister has a pilot’s licence and she used to take me up. But I’ve never been in anything like this.’
Calder opened the throttle and increased speed to 220 knots. He called up RAF Marham, his old station, for a flight information service. Although the Yak was fast for a general aviation aircraft, it was nothing like the Tornados he had flown over this same stretch of land twelve years before when he was in the air force. He often saw aircraft from his old squadron, No. 13, speeding along the coast, sometimes alone, sometimes in twos or fours. At first the sight had been almost painful, bringing back memories of the kind of flying he could no longer do, skimming at 600 miles an hour fifty feet above the North Sea, ducking and weaving through the Welsh mountains, spinning and twisting 30,000 feet above the English countryside. But now he had become accustomed to it and admired the stout war machines as they went about their business.
They reached the sea at Hanham Staithe and turned right, passing over his own isolated cottage and powering on towards Blakeney and Cromer. Calder glanced down at the familiar coastline, with its ever-shifting spits of sand, the band of rough marshland and the clusters of houses at regular intervals. He was keeping to 1,000 feet so that his passenger could get a good view.
‘I know I told Kim we wouldn’t do any stunts, but we can do a loop if you’re up for it?’
‘I’m up for it.’
Calder could hear the grin in his passenger’s voice. ‘OK. We’ll have to gain some altitude.’ He opened the throttle for full power and raised the nose for a climb.
The engine growl turned to a roar, the sea slipped down beneath the nose and the altimeter began to turn. Then it happened. Something in the massive old engine a few feet in front of Calder gave way. There was a bang and then the whole aircraft began to shake violently. The engine cowling bucked and buckled, the aircraft instruments blurred, and the wingtips vibrated to their own chaotic rhythm.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Calder heard from the passenger behind him, but he had no time to speak to Todd. Instantly he closed the throttle and slammed the propeller pitch to full coarse in an attempt to lower the speed and the strain on the engine. It was as though there were an angry giant in there desperate to get out, and willing to wreck the aeroplane in the process.
Calder tried to focus on the instruments but the shaking was so intense it was impossible to read them. He estimated they were at about 1,000 feet, facing out to sea. He pulled the stick to the right to begin a gentle turn back towards land. The speed was beginning to tail off but the engine was still leaping about like a mad thing. At any moment it might wrench itself free from the rest of the fuselage.
Calder hit the mic button and fired off a rapid Mayday in the hope that he wasn’t yet too low for Marham to hear him. He guessed a position somewhere to the west of Blakeney and then focused on fighting the aeroplane.
Oil was now leaking from the cowling in front of him, and worse than that, black smoke. The engine was on fire.
Calder cut off the fuel to the engine and switched off the magnetos. He had to get down to the grou
nd, and quickly. But somehow they had drifted a couple of miles out from the shoreline.
The power was going from the engine and they were sinking. They were probably 400 feet up with a mile and a half to go, cold grey water beneath them.
‘Brace yourself, Todd,’ Calder called. No reply. ‘Todd?’
He turned to see Todd slumped back in his seat. Why? Despite the adrenaline flooding his system he felt suddenly tired himself. Carbon monoxide! Part of the drill for an engine fire was to open the cockpit to prevent carbon monoxide from the engine poisoning the pilot. With arms that were suddenly heavy, he reached forward and fumbled with the knob to release the canopy. He slid it open a few inches and the fresh air rushed by his face.
The sea was very close now. So was the shore, but they weren’t quite going to make it. To his left he saw a narrow bar of exposed sand half a mile out from the beach. He could just reach that. But with the engine on fire perhaps it would be safer to ditch into the water rather than risk a hard landing and an explosion. The trouble was that behind him Todd was unconscious; they were not wearing life jackets and if they ditched, Todd would be unable to climb out and swim to safety. Calder would have to pull him out.
Calder had been taught to make decisions under pressure; any decision was better than no decision. He chose the sandbar. He pulled the stick to the left and heaved the sluggish Yak towards the bank. He selected full flap and gear down and then the aircraft slammed into the sand. Had it been a smooth firm runway, all might have been well, but the sand was wet and uneven, the aircraft was bucking like a wild thing, and it slewed round to the left. For a couple of seconds sky, sea and sand whirled in bewildering disorder; there was a jarring impact and then everything was still.
Still, and inverted. Calder was held in his seat by the pressure of the harness on his shoulders. The aircraft was on its back. For a moment the stillness was a relief after the desperate thrashing of the stricken aircraft, but only for a moment. Calder could hear the drip of oil and the crackle of flames, and he could smell fuel. He knew he had only seconds.
Quickly but carefully, so that he didn’t fall downwards on to his neck, he unbuckled his harness and pulled himself out of there. He turned, released Todd and dragged him out too. Todd had a serious gash on the side of his head and was out cold. Calder slung him over his shoulder and staggered as far away from the Yak as he could. He was about thirty yards along the sandbank when the aircraft behind him exploded.
See No Evil Page 3
