Hyena Dawn (37 page)

‘
Then forget about any commission you might have thought of earning.’

‘
I will get it for you. Please wait here.’

Mr Singh scurried off, returning in a few minutes with a bundle of notes which he handed over to Rayne. Rayne counted them out carefully, then he got up with Guy to go. They both shook hands with Mr Singh.

‘
We look forward to doing good business with you.’

‘
Only the best, Mr Brand. Only the very best.’

Mr Singh closed the door of his office. Alone now, he had time to think. He paced up and down his office, imagining himself ordering the Swiss banks to deliver funds to him. It was nice to be in a position of power.

These men would be good for business, he could sense it. And his other clients would be most interested in what these two men had to offer, and he could make a tidy forty per cent at least on every transaction. He went over to the large mirror on the wall beside his desk and admired his chubby jowls. Once he’d made some money out of Brand and Dubois he could tell Vorotnikov that they were Rhodesian spies. They wouldn’t last a day after that. Then he could keep all the money they had made for himself.

He rubbed his hands together. Business, he thought, was far more exciting than sex.

They sat down in the lounge and ordered two beers.

‘
Bruce, what’s wrong?’

Rayne was glad that Guy remembered to use the false name. Fernandes was in earshot.

‘
I don’t trust that bastard. Mr Singh wouldn’t have bothered to pass the time of day with us if it wasn’t for my Swiss funds. But maybe we can use him to acquire some very useful information.’

They sipped their beers in silence. The bitter brown liquid tasted good after the heat outside, but Rayne’s mind was in turmoil. The Russians had invited him and Guy to dine with them. Of course he could try to use the opportunity to find out more about the deployment of Russian forces round Beira - but what were the Russians hoping to get out of them? They sure as hell hadn’t invited them to dinner for the pleasure of their company.

Rayne felt like a man trying to defuse a time bomb, with the fuse ticking away in front of him. The stakes were being raised all the time. What the bloody hell was Fry playing at? He’d promised Rayne there’d be a large deposit waiting for him at the bank. Instead there was virtually nothing. It was as if the CIA man was deliberately trying to abort the mission. If Singh hadn’t agreed to the overdraft he would have been in trouble already. What other surprises did Fry have for him?

The appearance of Aschaar was another cause for concern. It appeared that there was a bigger picture of which Rayne was unaware. It was like walking through a minefield blindfold.

What had happened to Lois? He really needed him as a backup now.

Rayne forced himself to concentrate on the matters directly at hand. With Larry and Mick safely installed he had to concentrate on how he could get in and out of the bank quickly. If they took too long, they’d all be dead.

Alexei

The Lear jet took off from Nairobi airport in the blistering heat. Anyone checking its markings would have found that it was registered in Ireland. Further investigation would have traced the ownership to O’Regan and Son, a small but successful engineering company. Beyond that, however, any investigator would have drawn a total blank.

Bernard Aschaar was annoyed. It wasn’t that Goldcorp’s operations in Kenya weren’t going well - on the contrary, they couldn’t have been more profitable. The problem was expansion; the Kenyan government wouldn’t let him broaden the scope of his interests any further, and he resented this limitation of his control. Bernard smiled to himself. Never mind. Soon he would be able to bargain with them from a position of unprecedented strength . . . All systems were go for the greatest coup of his life. He had the money Vorotnikov wanted, and all the paperwork: the blueprint for the new Zimbabwean industrial state, and the list of names of all the Rhodesians who had to be eliminated.

As the plane levelled off, Aschaar looked down at the country below. The Yatta Plateau stretched out into the distance; soon the land would drop away as they neared the coast and passed over Mombasa. Then they would head south, following the east coast of Africa with the island of Madagascar to their immediate left.

He pulled a sheaf of computer print-outs from his attache case, a series of feasibility studies conducted on the main Rhodesian mines. This was his favourite kind of reading matter. It would keep him well occupied for the rest of the trip.

Vorotnikov smiled as the executive jet came in to land. Mr Bernard Aschaar was as good as his word; he had wondered, just a little, whether the businessman would have the courage to come to Mozambique. Now, once they had tidied up the final details of running Zimbabwe’s essential industries, he could move in quickly. After this, no one would doubt the power of the Soviet Union - and no one would question the Soviets’ allegiance to the underprivileged nations of the world.

As the plane taxied to a halt he gestured for his chauffeur to drive forward. The side-door of the fuselage opened and a set of steps snaked its way to the ground. Mr Aschaar appeared at the doorway, looked cursorily around him and then walked confidently down. Vorotnikov admired the poise and self-assurance of the man.

‘
Mr Aschaar, I welcome you to Mozambique.’

‘
Thank you, General. I am most impressed.’ Bernard’s gaze had shifted to the massive shapes under the camouflage sheets to the side of the runway. ‘You are evidently ready to launch your attack. I have my side of the agreement ready too. Our business will not take long.’

They shook hands, General Vorotnikov showed Aschaar into the car, and the vehicle pulled away the moment the door was closed. Bernard glanced over his shoulder as the car moved off - and the General laughed.

‘
Mr Aschaar, you have no cause to be concerned!’

Then he smiled smugly to himself. Aschaar had every cause to be concerned, for he was completely in Russian hands.

‘
You believe that my safety is in your hands?’

Aschaar’s question caught the General off balance. It was as if the man had been reading his mind!

‘
No

‘
General, I’ve got where I am by looking after myself, and I’m certainly not about to change my operating philosophy now. Let me remind you that every single word that has passed between us over the course of the last year has been taped. I already do extensive business with the Soviet Union through my diamond- mining and diamond-selling operations, and my connections are excellent. So, you pull a fast one on me and you’ll drop like lead through water.’

Vorotnikov gritted his teeth, his face white with the mixture of anger and fear that welled up within him. He should have known! He had been a fool. In battle he never made the mistake of underestimating his adversaries. Now, in this business, he had done precisely that. He breathed in deeply, knowing he could not afford to lose control at this vital stage of the proceedings.

They were equal now. His advantage was gone, for he had met his match. Bernard Aschaar might be the product of a corrupt Western democracy, but if he had been in the Party, he too would have risen to the top. Until Vorotnikov could find another way to undermine him, he would have to cooperate with Aschaar.

The General’s immediate worry now came to the surface. He had the money with which to solve the problem, but he didn’t have the contacts or the business acumen to strike the deal.

‘
Mr Aschaar, there is one small difficulty. One of my men failed in the uncomplicated task of ordering armaments for the main assault. I need four thousand AK-47 assault rifles in a hurry.’

‘
I am sure, with the right amount of money, General, something can be arranged.’

It irked Bernard to see the degeneration of Beira. In the past there had been a magnificent colonial harbour flanked by a beautifully laid-out town with outstanding tourist facilities. Now everything was run-down.

He calculated the lost revenue in tourism since independence, and heaved a heavy sigh. It would be an excellent challenge, to transform this place in a matter of years to its former beauty and profitability. Naturally, the harbour facilities would have to be expanded first, then work could begin on the rest of the city. All the poor could be moved to outlying areas - the creation of a ghetto was an excellent way of funding cheap labour and establishing a useful class of small-time criminals . . .

They entered the town on the Avenue Massano de Amorim and the General pointed out the bank. Further on, Bernard noted the dilapidated exterior of the Hotel Beira, and saw that most of the shops in the avenue were closed. They entered the Avenue Pedro Alvares Cabral and then turned right into the Avenue Major Serpa, heading for the area where all the consulates had been, at the edge of the harbour.

The sea and the harbour’s edge provided a refreshing change after the depressing spectre of the city centre. But the old consulates were filled with squatters now, and only a shadow of their former glory.

‘
A fine victory for the people.’ Bernard could not help the sarcasm. He hated waste more than anything else. The order of things had to be restored.

‘
Like most Westerners, you make the false assumption that Communism gives wealth to the people. As you will soon learn, it merely concentrates more power in the hands of the State. I do not approve of what has happened here but my country has to be careful.

‘
Without wishing to offend the people of Mozambique, I have to say that many countries appear to think they can borrow our expertise to achieve revolution, and then dispense with us. With our help, this country has overthrown its Portuguese tyrants, but what has it achieved on its own? There is no proper government and no functioning economy here. These people need us. They have no choice.’

‘
Precisely.’ Bernard stared across at the General as he spoke. ‘The Soviet of United African States. My dream, Mr Aschaar. A whole continent for my country, an achievement that might make me even more famous than Lenin.’

‘
You are ambitious.’

‘
What other reason is there for being alive?’

Bernard laughed long and loudly as the harbour disappeared out of sight through the back windscreen, and the beautiful beaches of the Indian Ocean coastline came into view.

Mr Siva Singh stayed late at the bank. He had much to do. The stakes were high and Siva wanted to make sure that he was up to them. His reputation was good and his knowledge in these matters excellent; this was his chance to enter the big league - something he wanted very badly. Still, Mr Aschaar was not a man to be dealt with lightly. He had guessed, when General Vorotnikov first arrived in Beira, that something big was about to take place. Now, with the appearance of Aschaar, he was sure of it.

Aschaar scared him. Meeting him at the bank this afternoon, for the first time, Mr Singh had judged him to be quite ruthless; one false move, and Aschaar would undoubtedly have his enemies eliminated. Siva Singh had only taken money from small operators before, he had never swindled the big fish. He had sensed that he had already been appraised from afar, Mr Aschaar’s minions had pored over his history, checked his professional record. Now Mr Aschaar had transferred a very large sum of money into the bank, and Mr Singh wanted to make quite certain that everything about the transfer was correct, and that nothing had been unnecessarily charged for.

At last, satisfied, he took the books into the vault and carefully secured the door. He indicated to the guard that he was about to leave and that his chauffeur should be notified. The security system was not wonderful, but with the Russian army to protect him, he had little to worry about. Secure in the knowledge of a rosy future, Mr Singh left the bank at 8.15 p.m.

Larry Preston squinted through the narrow gap in the white paint on the window and noted that the manager was now leaving the bank. At least someone else was working overtime, he thought to himself. He was still not feeling so good after his experience in the boot of the car yesterday morning.