See No Evil

31

Calder looked down on the familiar countryside to the west of Heathrow, landscape he had flown over many times at weekends when he was still working in the City. He recognized the airfields of White Waltham and Blackbushe and the scattering of wealthy towns and villages hugging the Thames. It was seven hours to New York. He had no idea what would happen in the next few days, but he was optimistic.

He had received a short, simple e-mail from Sandy.

He had spoken to Kim, who admitted to her attempt to see Sandy on his behalf. She urged him to go, and he was surprised how much he wanted to. There were all kinds of difficulties and problems with the relationship, past and future, but at that moment he realized it was only the present he was interested in. So he had booked the flight.

Kim and Todd had flown back to the US a couple of days before. Todd was still improving and was planning to return to his teaching job for the new school year, although the doctors thought that might be a little optimistic. Kim had told Calder she was pregnant. She was overjoyed, and to Calder’s immense relief, she was sure the baby was her husband’s, not his.

Anne was due to leave hospital soon. She would be in a wheelchair at first, but she would be fitted up with a prosthetic leg in time. Against William’s strongly expressed wishes, Calder had visited her. She had been polite initially, asking what happened in South Africa in a dispassionate voice, but Calder could see she was hiding her anger with him. Then a tear had emerged in one eye and she had turned away from him. He tried to talk to her but she wouldn’t reply. He couldn’t blame her, but he could blame himself. He thought bleakly of her struggling to raise her children from a wheelchair, hobbling after them on a false leg in the school playground. His relationship with his sister had been perhaps the most stable thing in his life since his mother had died. As so often before he had put himself in danger, but this time it was she who had got hurt.

His father was much more supportive, congratulating Calder on finding who had crippled his daughter. He didn’t actually say it, but he was clearly glad that Calder had shot Zan, and that Moolman was dead.

Calder felt no such warm glow of revenge. He knew he had had no choice but to shoot Zan, otherwise yet another innocent man would have died. He also knew she was an evil woman. But he recognized that she was a product of a screwed-up family in a screwed-up country. It would take many years for the wounds of apartheid to heal; brutality like that couldn’t just be buried and forgotten, as Cornelius had discovered.

It was fortunate Cornelius had been with him. The Zimbabweans were not sympathetic to strange white men arriving in their country and shooting people, but Zyl News, and in particular Cornelius’s wife Jessica, had swiftly brought the full force of his network of contacts and influence to bear on the Zimbabwean government. In the end, they had spent only two days in custody, although two days in a Zimbabwean jail was more than enough for Calder.

The revelation of the Laagerbond’s connections with Sir Evelyn Gill had led to the collapse of his bid for The Times. Cornelius’s own bid had expired and he decided not to renew it, much to the relief of the Bloomfield Weiss Underwriting Committee. It looked highly likely that one of the original bidders, the Irish entrepreneur, would buy the newspaper at the lower price of eight hundred and twenty million pounds. Laxton Media jumped at it; their need for cash was becoming desperate.

Benton’s arm was still in a sling, the bullet from Zan’s rifle had torn a nasty hole in his shoulder which was taking a while to heal. Tarek had told Calder that it was common knowledge within Bloomfield Weiss that Simon Bibby had his own sights firmly trained on Benton. The smart money was on head of Global Diversity or possibly head of the Moscow office, if Benton survived in the firm at all. Much to his surprise, Calder found himself hoping that he would.

Cornelius had fired Edwin and announced that an up-and-coming American executive from the Philadelphia office would take over from him as CEO of Zyl News in six months. In the meantime he had already visited Cape Town to talk to George Field about funding the Rainbow. Just a minority stake, no editorial influence. At least that’s what he said his intention was.

The details of the Laagerbond in Martha’s diary were passed to the authorities in South Africa and Britain. The big breakthrough was that Dirk du Toit and Daniel Havenga promised to cooperate. According to du Toit’s records the Laagerbond had investments valued at four billion dollars around the world, although a significant chunk of it comprised its stake in Evelyn Gill’s collapsing Beckwith Communications. Andries Visser was in hospital undergoing intensive chemotherapy. The doctors thought it unlikely that he would live to face his trial.

The plane flew into cloud and Calder returned to the newspaper on his lap. He finished an article about more oil supplies coming on stream in Russia, which would help the spread bet he had hastily taken before he left England on a fall in oil prices. That was a relief; he had probably put too much on that one. Since he had returned from South Africa he had made a number of large financial spread bets, with mixed success. It distracted him from Kim and Anne and Zan, gave him something else to focus on.

He shoved the paper into the pocket on the seat in front of him, and reached into his hand luggage for a folder containing a sheaf of A4. Martha’s original diary was in the South African authorities’ possession to be used as evidence, but Cornelius had given him a photocopy. Her handwriting was flowing, assured, easily legible. He began to read.

It was an odd feeling. He had spent so much time thinking about her, trying to decipher her actions and motivations over a distance of eighteen years, it was strange to read her words, immediate, in the present tense. He liked her, he realized. She had not deserved to be forgotten by her family. He was glad that he had played a part in throwing some light on her death.

The aeroplane was well to the west of the coast of Ireland when he turned to the last entry.

August 28

We’re here at Kupugani and it’s a fantastic place. Libby’s friend Phyllis was really friendly, not at all freaked out by Benton, and she’s put us in a cottage a ways away from the main camp. Yesterday evening we were sitting out on our porch and we saw a leopard walk along the stream bed right by us as cool as you please. And last night we were woken by the lions grunting and groaning. We didn’t make it up early enough this morning for the game drive. In fact, the way we are going we’ll be lucky if we ever leave this cottage at all!

Benton’s in the shower now. I can see him as I write this. He’s heavenly. It’s wonderful to be with him. But time goes so fast! We only have twenty-four more hours together and then we go our separate ways.

It’s good to be able to write this in front of him, without being worried about what he reads. It’s good to be able to trust someone at last. I haven’t spoken to him yet about Zan and the Laagerbond. I didn’t want to spoil our time together, but I’m going to have to.

I’m trying not to think about that. Because when I do I’m really scared. Zan might have gone to London, but she’s left her nasty friends behind. She knows she can’t trust me to keep quiet, so what’s she going to do? What are her friends going to do? Arresting me would be very messy: I’m an American citizen and Cornelius’s wife. But they could just kill me.

If they’re going to kill me, they’ll do it soon. They might not know where I am here, but once I get back to Hondehoek I’ll be an easy target.

If I died, what about the children? Who’d look after Caroline? Todd doesn’t need much looking after these days, but he’d miss me. I can’t stand the thought of not seeing him grow up to be a man. My mother’s a strong woman, but it will kill my father.

If my life ends now, what will I have achieved? I’ve always felt American, but my life, certainly my adult life, has been all about South Africa. A country I hate and I guess I love at the same time. About South Africa and about Cornelius. Cornelius. He’s the man who has dominated my life. Until this past year I’ve loved him, respected him, admired him, believed in him. But if it all ended now...

He’s as scared as I am. And we’ve both done the same thing. He’s run off to his beautiful blonde woman, me to my beautiful black man. But what is Benton? Oh, he’s more than just a good body. I like him, he’s intelligent, I like the way he’s so well read, but in ten years’ time, when I’m fifty-four, I can’t really kid myself that we will still be together.

He’s shaving now. He just smiled at me. Oh, God, I hope he never reads this. So much for being able to write in front of him.

There’s only one thing for me to do, I have to go see Cornelius. Grab Caroline and get on a plane to America before those evil bastards get me. Go to Philadelphia and talk to him about everything. If South Africa goes up in flames, if his business goes bust, we still have each other and Todd and Caroline. After all we’ve been through together, it would be wrong to die apart. So wrong.

Yes. That’s what I’ll do. I’ve made up my mind. But I’m going to have to tell Benton. He’s already noticed something’s up, he just asked me what the matter is. I lied — I told him I was fine. It will ruin everything, but I must tell him my decision today, this afternoon.

The handwriting finished halfway down the page. But in the bottom right-hand quarter, Calder could make out an arc of tiny black splashes on his photocopy. Blood. Martha van Zyl’s final signature.