Rage (59 page)
Authors: Wilbur Smith
â
I
don't understand why you are saddling me with this little scrubber,' Desmond Blake protested acidly. He had been twenty-two years on the newspaper and before the gin bottle had taken over he had been the best courtroom and political journalist on the staff of the
Golden City Mail
. The quantities of gin which he absorbed had not only placed a ceiling on his career but had greyed and prematurely lined his face, ruined his liver and soured his disposition without, however, clouding his insight into the criminal mind nor spoiling his political acumen.
I
don't understand why you are saddling me with this little scrubber,' Desmond Blake protested acidly. He had been twenty-two years on the newspaper and before the gin bottle had taken over he had been the best courtroom and political journalist on the staff of the
Golden City Mail
. The quantities of gin which he absorbed had not only placed a ceiling on his career but had greyed and prematurely lined his face, ruined his liver and soured his disposition without, however, clouding his insight into the criminal mind nor spoiling his political acumen.
âWell, he is a bright lad,' his editor explained reasonably.
âThis is the biggest, most sensational trial of our century,' Desmond Blake said, âand you want me to drag a cub reporter with me, a puking infant who couldn't even cover a local flower show or a mayoral tea party.'
âI think he has a lot of potential â I just want you to take him in hand and show him the ropes.'
âBullshit!' said Desmond Blake. âNow tell me the real reason.'
âAll right.' The editor showed his exasperation. âThe real reason is that his grandmother is Centaine Courtney and his father is Shasa Courtney, and Courtney Mining and Finance have acquired thirty-five per cent of the shareholding of our parent company over the past months, and if you know nothing else you should know that nobody bucks Centaine Courtney, not if they want to remain in business. Now take the kid with you and stop bitching. I haven't got time to argue any more â I've got a paper to get out.'
Desmond Blake threw up both hands in despair, and as he rose to leave the office his editor added one last unsubtle threat.
âJust look at it this way. Des. It will be good job insurance, especially for an ageing newshound who needs the price of a bottle of gin a day. Just think of the kid as the boss's son.'
Desmond wandered lugubriously down the length of the city room. He knew the boy by sight. Somebody had pointed him out as a sprig of the Courtney empire and wondered aloud what the hell he was doing here instead of on the polo field.
Desmond stopped beside the corner desk which Michael was sharing with two other juniors.
âYour name is Michael Courtney?' he asked, and the boy leapt to his feet.
âYes, sir.' Michael was overcome at being directly addressed by somebody who had his own column and byline.
âShit!' said Desmond bitterly. âNothing is more depressing than the shining face of youth and enthusiasm. Come along, boy.'
âWhere are we going?' Michael snatched up his jacket eagerly.
âTo the George, boy. I need a double to give me the strength to go through with this little lark.'
At the bar of the George, he studied Michael over the rim of his glass.
âYour first lesson, boyâ' He took a swallow of gin and tonic. âNothing is ever what it seems to be. Nobody is ever what he says he is. Engrave that on your heart. Your second lesson. Stick to your orange juice. They don't call this stuff mother's ruin for nothing. Your third lesson. Always pay for the drinks with a smile.' He took another swig. âSo you are from Cape Town, are you? Well that's just fine, because that is where we are going, you and me. We are going to see a man condemned to die.'
V
icky Gama took the bus from Baragwanath Hospital to Drake's Farm. It went only as far as the administration building and the new government school. She had to walk the last mile through the narrow dusty lanes between the rows of raw brick cottages. She walked slowly, for although her pregnancy was only four months advanced she was beginning to tire easily.
icky Gama took the bus from Baragwanath Hospital to Drake's Farm. It went only as far as the administration building and the new government school. She had to walk the last mile through the narrow dusty lanes between the rows of raw brick cottages. She walked slowly, for although her pregnancy was only four months advanced she was beginning to tire easily.
Hendrick Tabaka was in the crowded general dealer's shop, watching the tills, but he came to Vicky immediately and she greeted him with the respect due to her husband's eldest brother. He led her through to his office, and called for one of his sons to bring her a comfortable chair.
Vicky recognized Raleigh Tabaka, and smiled at him as he placed her chair. âYou have grown into a fine young man, Raleigh. Have you finished your schooling now?'
âYebo, sissie
.' Raleigh returned her greeting with polite reserve, for even though she was the wife of his uncle, she was a Zulu. His father had taught him to distrust all Zulus. âI help my father now,
sissie.
I learn the business from him and soon I will manage one of the shops on my own.'
.' Raleigh returned her greeting with polite reserve, for even though she was the wife of his uncle, she was a Zulu. His father had taught him to distrust all Zulus. âI help my father now,
sissie.
I learn the business from him and soon I will manage one of the shops on my own.'
Hendrick Tabaka smiled proudly at his favourite son. âHe learns fast, and I have great faith in the boy.' He endorsed what Raleigh had said. âI am sending him soon to our shop at Sharpeville near Vereeniging to learn the bakery business.'
âWhere is your twin brother, Wellington?' Vicky asked, and immediately Hendrick Tabaka frowned heavily and waved at Raleigh to leave the office. As soon as they were alone, he answered her question angrily. âThe white priests have captured Wellington's heart. They have seduced him from the gods of his tribe and his ancestors and taken him to the service of the white man's God. This strange Jesus God with three heads. It grieves me deeply, for I had hoped that Wellington, like Raleigh, would be the son of my old age. Now he studies to be a priest, and I have lost him.'
He sat down at the tiny cluttered table that served him
as a desk and studied his own hands for a moment. Then he raised that bald cannonball head, the scalp criss-crossed with ridged scars from old battles.
as a desk and studied his own hands for a moment. Then he raised that bald cannonball head, the scalp criss-crossed with ridged scars from old battles.
âSo, wife of my brother, we live in a time of great sorrow. Moses Gama has been taken by the white men's police, and we cannot doubt what they will do with him. Even in my sorrow, I must recall that I warned him that this would happen. A wise man does not throw stones at the sleeping lion.'
âMoses Gama did what he knew was his duty. He lived out the deed for which he was born,' Vicky said quietly. âHe struck a blow for all of us â you and me and our children.' She touched her belly where beneath the white nurse's uniform the first bulge of her pregnancy showed. âAnd now he needs our help.'
âTell me how I can help.' Hendrick inclined his head. âFor he was not only my brother, but my chief as well.'
âWe need money to hire a lawyer to defend him in the white man's court. I have been to see Marcus Archer and the others of the ANC at the house in Rivonia. They will not help us. They say that Moses acted without their agreement or approval. They say that it was agreed not to endanger human life. They say that if they give us money to help in the defence, the police will trace it to them. They say many other things â everything but the truth.'
âWhat is the truth, my sister?' Hendrick asked.
And suddenly Vicky's voice was quivering with fury. âThe truth is that they hate him. The truth is that they are afraid of him. The truth is that they are jealous of him. Moses has done what none of them would have dared. He has aimed a spear at the heart of the white tyrant, and though the blow failed, now all the world knows that it was struck. Not only in this land, but beyond the sea, all the world knows now who is the leader of our people.'
âThat is true,' Hendrick nodded. âHis name is on every man's lips.'
âWe must save him, Hendrick my brother. We must do everything we can to save him.'
Hendrick rose and went to the small cupboard in the corner. He dragged it aside to reveal the door of an ancient Chatwood safe built into the wall behind it.
When he opened the green steel door, the safe was packed with wads of banknotes.
âThis belongs to Moses. It is his share. Take what you need,' said Hendrick Tabaka.
T
he Supreme Court of the Cape Province of South Africa stands on one side of the gardens that Jan van Riebeeck, the first Governor of the Cape, laid out in the 1650s to provision the ships of the Dutch East India Company. On the opposite side of the beautiful gardens stand the Houses of Parliament that Moses Gama had attempted to destroy. So he was to be tried within a quarter of a mile of the scene of the crime of which he stood accused.
he Supreme Court of the Cape Province of South Africa stands on one side of the gardens that Jan van Riebeeck, the first Governor of the Cape, laid out in the 1650s to provision the ships of the Dutch East India Company. On the opposite side of the beautiful gardens stand the Houses of Parliament that Moses Gama had attempted to destroy. So he was to be tried within a quarter of a mile of the scene of the crime of which he stood accused.
The case aroused the most intense international interest and the film crews and journalists began flying into Cape Town a week before it was set down to commence.
Vicky Gama arrived by train after the thousand-mile journey down the continent from the Witwatersrand. She travelled with the white lawyer who would defend Moses and more than fifty of the more radical members of the African National Congress, most of them, like herself, under thirty years of age, and many of them secret members of Moses Gama's
Umkhonto we Sizwe
military wing of the party. Amongst these was Vicky's half-brother, Joseph Dinizulu, now a young man of almost twenty-one studying to be a lawyer at the black university of Fort Hare. The money given to Vicky by Hendrick Tabaka paid for all of them.
Umkhonto we Sizwe
military wing of the party. Amongst these was Vicky's half-brother, Joseph Dinizulu, now a young man of almost twenty-one studying to be a lawyer at the black university of Fort Hare. The money given to Vicky by Hendrick Tabaka paid for all of them.
. Molly Broadhurst met them at the Cape Town station. Vicky, Joseph and the defence lawyer would be staying at her home in Pinelands during the trial, and she had arranged accommodation for all the others in the black townships of Langa and Guguletu.
Desmond Blake and Michael Courtney flew down together from Johannesburg on the commercial flight, and while Desmond put a severe strain on the bar service Michael pored over the notebook in which he was roughing out a schedule of all the research into the history of the ANC and the background of Moses Gama and his tribe that he felt they would need.
Centaine Courtney-Malcomess was at the airport to meet the flight. Much to Michael's embarrassment, she had two servants to carry Michael's single valise out to the daffodil-yellow Daimler that, as usual, she was driving herself. Since Tara had left, Centaine had once more taken over the running of Weltevreden.
âThe paper has booked rooms for us at the Atlantic Hotel, Nana,' Michael protested, after he had dutifully embraced his grandmother. âIt's very convenient for the law courts and the national library.'
âNonsense,' said Centaine firmly. âThe Atlantic is a bugrun and Weltevreden is your home.'
âFather said I wouldn't be welcome back.'
âYour father has missed you even more than I have.'
Shasa sat Michael beside him at dinner, and even Isabella was almost totally excluded from their conversation. Shasa was so impressed by his youngest son's sudden new maturity that the following morning he instructed his broker to purchase another hundred thousand shares in the holding company that owned the
Golden City Mail.
Golden City Mail.
Manfred and Heidi dined at Weltevreden the evening before the trial began and while they drank pre-prandial cocktails Manfred expressed the concern that Shasa and Centaine shared.
âWhat the prosecution and the court must avoid is allowing the proceedings to deteriorate into a trial not of a murderer and a terrorist, but of our social system and our way of life. The vultures of the international press are already assembled eager to show us in the worst possible light, and as usual to distort and misrepresent our policy of
apartheid
. I only wish we had some control over the courts and the press.'
apartheid
. I only wish we had some control over the courts and the press.'
âYou know I can't agree with you on that one.' Shasa shifted in his chair. âThe complete independence of our press and the impartiality of our judicial system gives us credibility in the eyes of the rest of the world.'
âDon't lecture me. I am a lawyer,' Manfred pointed out stiffly.
It was strange how despite their enforced and mutually beneficial relationship, they were never truly friends and antagonism was always ready to surface between them. Now it took some little time for the tension to ease, and for them to adopt once more an outward show of cordiality. Only then could Manfred tell Shasa, âWe have finally agreed with the prosecution not to raise in court the matter of your wife's involvement with the accused. Apart from the difficulty of beginning extradition proceedings with Britain â she would almost certainly ask for political asylum â there is the consideration of her relationship with Gama. Black man and white womanâ' Manfred's expression was one of deep disgust. âIt is repugnant to all decent principles. Raising the subject would not further the prosecution, but would simply give the yellow press something more to drool over. No, it will do none of us any good at all.' Manfred put special emphasis on this last sentence. It was all that needed to be said, but Shasa did not let it pass.
âI owe you a great deal â for my son, Sean, and now my wife.'
â
Ja
, you owe me a great deal,' Manfred nodded. âPerhaps I will ask you for something in return one day.'
Ja
, you owe me a great deal,' Manfred nodded. âPerhaps I will ask you for something in return one day.'
âI hope so,' said Shasa. âI do not like having outstanding debts.'
O
utside the Supreme Court both pavements were filled with people. They were standing shoulder to shoulder and overflowing into the street, complicating the efforts of the traffic wardens and impeding the flow of traffic until it was reduced to a crawl.
utside the Supreme Court both pavements were filled with people. They were standing shoulder to shoulder and overflowing into the street, complicating the efforts of the traffic wardens and impeding the flow of traffic until it was reduced to a crawl.
A newspaper poster, GUY FAWKES KILLER TRIAL BEGINS TODAY, hung drunkenly from one of the lampposts until it was knocked down by the push of the crowd and trodden underfoot.
The throng was thickest at the colonnaded entrance to the Supreme Court and each time one of the players in the drama arrived the journalists and photographers surged forward. The State Prosecutor smiled and waved to them like a film star, but most of the others, intimidated by the crowds and the exploding flash bulbs and shouted questions, scurried for the entrance and the protection of the police guards.
Only minutes before the court was due to go into session, a chartered bus turned into the slow-moving stream of traffic and came down towards the entrance. The sound of singing grew louder as it approached, the lovely haunting chorus of African voices rising and sinking and weaving the intricate tapestry of sound that thrilled the ears and raised the gooseflesh on the skins of the listeners.
When the bus finally halted in front of the Supreme Court, a young Zulu woman stepped down into the street. She wore a flowing caftan of green and yellow and black, the colours of the African National Congress, and her head was bound in a turban of the same colours.
Her pregnancy had given Vicky a fullness of body that enhanced her natural fine looks. There was no trace left of
the shy little country girl. She carried her head high, and moved with all the confidence and style of an African Evita.
the shy little country girl. She carried her head high, and moved with all the confidence and style of an African Evita.
The press camera men recognized instantly that they were being presented with an unusual opportunity and they rushed forward with their equipment to capture her dark beauty, and the sound of her voice as she sang the thrilling hymn to freedom.
â
Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika
â God Save Africa.'
Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika
â God Save Africa.'
Behind her, holding hands, and singing, came all the others, some of them white like Molly Broadhurst and some of them Indians and coloured like Miriam and Ben Afrika, but most of them pure African. They streamed up the steps into the courthouse to fill the section of the gallery of the courtroom reserved for non-whites and to overflow into the corridors outside.
The rest of the court was packed with the press and the curious, while a separate section had been set aside for observers from the diplomatic corps. Every one of the embassies was represented.
At every entrance to the court were police guards wearing sidearms, and four policemen of warrant officer rank were drawn up around the dock. The prisoner was a killer and a dangerous revolutionary. They were taking no chances.
Yet when he stepped up into the dock, Moses Gama seemed none of these things. He had lost weight during his imprisonment, but this merely enhanced his great height and the wide angularity of his shoulders. His cheeks were hollow, and the bones of his face and forehead were more prominent, but he stood proudly as ever with his chin up and that dark messianic glow in his eyes.
His presence was so overpowering that he seemed to take possession of the room; the gasp and hum of curiosity as he stood before them was subdued by an almost tangible sense of awe. In the back of the gallery Vicky Dinizulu
sprang to her feet and began to sing, and those around her came in with the chorus. As he listened to her beautiful ringing voice, Moses Gama inclined his head slightly, but he did not smile or give any other sign of recognition.
sprang to her feet and began to sing, and those around her came in with the chorus. As he listened to her beautiful ringing voice, Moses Gama inclined his head slightly, but he did not smile or give any other sign of recognition.
Vicky's freedom song was interrupted by a cry of â
Stilte in die hof! Opstaan!
Silence in the court! Stand up!'
Stilte in die hof! Opstaan!
Silence in the court! Stand up!'
The Judge-President of the Cape, wearing the scarlet robes which indicated that this was a criminal trial, took his seat on the bench beneath the carved canopy.
Justice André Villiers was a big man with a flamboyant courtroom style. He had a reputation for being a connoisseur of food, good wine and pretty girls. He was also noted for handing down savage sentences for crimes of violence.
Now he slumped massively on the bench and glowered around his court as the charge sheet was read, but his gaze checked momentarily as it reached each female, the length of the pause proportional to the prettiness of the recipient. On Kitty Godolphin he spent at least two seconds and when she smiled her angelic little-girl smile at him, he hooded his eyes slightly before passing on.
There were four main charges on the sheet against Moses Gama, two of attempted murder, and one each of high treason and murder. Every one of these was a capital offence but Moses Gama showed no emotion as he listened to them read out.
Judge Villiers broke the expectant silence that followed the reading. âHow do you plead to these charges?'
Moses leaned forward, both clenched fists on the rail of the dock and his voice was low and full of scorn, but it carried to every corner of the crowded court.
âVerwoerd and his brutal government should be in this dock,' he said. âI plead not guilty.'
Moses sat down and did not raise his eyes while the judge enquired who appeared for the crown, and the prosecutor introduced himself to the court, but when Mr Justice Villiers asked:
âWho appears for the defence?' before the advocate whom Vicky and Hendrick Tabaka had retained could reply, Moses sprang to his feet again.
âI do,' he cried. âI am on trial here for the aspirations of the African people. No other can speak for me. I am the leader of my people, I will answer for myself and for them.'
There was such consternation in the court now, such uproar that for a few moments the judge pounded his gavel in vain, demanding silence, and when it was at last obtained, he threatened them.
âIf there is another such demonstration of contempt for this court, I will not hesitate to have it cleared.'
He turned back to Moses Gama to reason with him and try to persuade him to accept legal representation, but Moses forestalled him.
âI wish to move immediately that you, Judge Villiers, recuse yourself from this case,' he challenged, and the scarlet-robed judge blinked and was for a moment stunned into silence.
Then he smiled grimly at the prisoner's effrontery and asked, âOn what grounds do you make this application?'
âOn the grounds that you, as a white judge, are incapable of being impartial and fair to me, a black man, forced to submit to the immoral laws of a parliament in which I have no representation.'
The judge shook his head, half in exasperation and half in admiration. âI am going to deny your application for recusal,' he said. âAnd I am going to urge you to accept the very able services of the counsel who has been appointed to represent you.'
âI accept neither his services, nor the competence of this court to condemn me. For all the world knows that is what you propose. I accept only the verdict of my poor enslaved people and of the free nations out there. Let them and history decide my innocence or guilt.'
The press were electrified, some of them so enchanted that they made no effort to write down his words. None of them would ever forget them. For Michael Courtney sitting in the back row of the press section, it was a revelation. He had lived with Africans all his life, his family employed them by the tens of thousands, but until this moment he had never met a black man of such dignity and awe-inspiring presence.
Judge Villiers sagged down in his seat. He always maintained his place firmly in the centre-stage of his court, overshadowing everybody in it with the ruthless authority of a born actor. Here he sensed he had met an equal. The entire attention of everybody in the court was captivated by Moses Gama.
âVery well,' Judge Villiers said at last. âMr Prosecutor, you may proceed to present the case for the crown.'
The prosecutor was a master of his profession and he had an infallible case. He worked it up with meticulous attention to detail, with logic and with skill.
One at a time he submitted his exhibits to the court. The wiring and the electrical detonator, the Tokarev pistol and spare magazines. Although it was considered too dangerous to allow the blocks of plastic explosives and the detonators into the courtroom, photographs were submitted and accepted. The altar chest was too large to bring into court, and again photographs were accepted by Judge Villiers. Then there were the gruesome photographs of Shasa's office, with Blaine's covered body against the bookcases and his blood splashed over the carpet, and the wreckage of broken furniture and scattered papers. Centaine turned her face away as the photographs were handed in and Shasa squeezed her arm and tried to shield her from the curious glances.
After all the exhibits had been tabled, the prosecutor
called his first witness. âI call the Honourable Minister of Mines and Industry, Mr Shasa Courtney.'
called his first witness. âI call the Honourable Minister of Mines and Industry, Mr Shasa Courtney.'
Shasa was on the witness stand for the rest of that day and all of the following morning, describing in detail how he had discovered and thwarted the bombing.
The prosecutor took him back to his first childhood meeting with Moses Gama, and as Shasa described their relationship, Moses raised his head and for the first time since he had taken the stand looked directly into Shasa's face. In vain Shasa searched for the slightest trace of that sympathy they had once shared, but there was none. Moses Gama's stare was baleful and unwavering.
When at last the prosecutor had finished with Shasa, he turned to the accused. âYour witness,' he said, and Justice Villiers roused himself.
âDo you wish to cross-examine the witness?'
Moses shook his head and looked away, but the judge insisted. âThis will be your last opportunity to query or refute the witness's evidence. I urge you to make full use of it.'
Moses crossed his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes as though in sleep, and from the non-white section of the court there were hoots of laughter and the stamping of feet.
Justice Villiers raised his voice, âI will not warn you again,' and there was silence in the face of his anger.
Over the next four days the prosecutor placed his witnesses on the stand.
Tricia, Shasa's secretary, explained how Moses had gained entrance to the office suite in the guise of a chauffeur and how on the day of the murder Moses had seized and bound her. How she had watched him fire the fatal shot that killed Colonel Malcomess.
âDo you wish to cross-examine the witness?' Judge Villiers asked, and once again Moses shook his head.
Manfred De La Rey gave his evidence and described how he had found Moses Gama with the pistol in his hand and Blaine Malcomess lying on the floor dying. How he had heard him cry, âYou! You!' and saw him deliberately fire the pistol at Shasa Courtney.
âDo you wish to cross-examine the witness?' the judge asked, and this time Moses did not even look up.
An electrical engineer described the captured equipment and identified the transmitter as being of Russian origin. An explosives expert told the court of the destructive power of the plastic explosives placed beneath the Government benches.
âIn my opinion it would have been sufficient to destroy totally the entire chamber and the adjoining rooms. It would certainly have killed every person in the main chamber, and most of those in the lobby and the surrounding offices.'
After each witness had finished his evidence Moses again refused to cross-examine. At the end of the fourth day the crown had presented its case, and Judge Villiers adjourned the court with one last appeal to the prisoner.
âWhen the court reconvenes on Monday, you will be required to answer the charges against you. I must once more impress upon you the grave nature of the accusations, and point out to you that your very life is at stake. Yet again I urge you to accept the services of legal counsel.'
Moses Gama smiled at him with contempt.
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