'You don't know my grandson. Sean, this is Minister De La Rey." 'I've heard of you,' Manfred growled without offering to shake hands. 'I've heard a great deal about you." And with relief Centaine turned to the couple who were returning to the table from the dance floor. 'And this is Mrs De La Rey and her son Lothar - all old friends of the family. Heidi, may I present my grandson Sean." Sean bowed over her hand, and Heidi considered him thoughtfully and said in her lisping German accent. 'He is the only one of your grandchildren I have not met, Centaine. A fine boy." Sean turned to Lothar and held out his hand. 'Hello. I'm Sean and if I didn't know who you were, I'd be the only one in the country.
Your play against the Lions on the last tour was magical, that boot of yours is worth a million rand." The two young men sat down on a pair of empty chairs and were immediately engrossed in a discussion of rugby football and the recent visit of the British team. Although she continued her conversation with Manfred, Centaine watched her two grandsons covertly. Apart from their youth and self-assurance, they were so different in appearance, one blond and Germanic, the other dark and romantic, yet she sensed that they were in other ways very similar.
Strong men, untroubled by unnecessary scruples, men who knew what they wanted and how to go about getting it. Perhaps they inherited that from her, she smiled to herself, and perhaps like her they were hard and unrelenting adversaries, prepared to destroy anything that stood in their way.
Centaine had the trick of listening to two conversations at once and she heard Lothar De La Rey say, 'Mind you, I've heard about you also and what you did in Kenya. Didn't you get a citation for the George Cross for cleaning up the last of the Mau Mau gangs?" Sean laughed. 'My timing was wrong. The Brits couldn't give me a gong for shooting Mickey Mice at the same time as they were handing the country over to Kenyatta. Not really cricket, you know, old boy. But how did you find out about that?" 'It's my job to know these things,' Lothar told him, and Sean nodded.
'Yes, of course, you are in the police. Aren't you a major or something?" 'As of last week, a colonel in the bureau for state security." ongratulaUons.
'You know, anything you could tell us about Mau Mau will be useful. I mean the real first-hand stuff about anti-terrorist work.
You see, I think we might have the same problem here one of these days." 'Well, the worst was over by the time I got there, but yes, of course - anything I can do. I'm going back up north in a fe weeks, to Rhodesia. But if I can help--' 'Rhodesia." Lothar dropped his voice so that Centaine couldn longer hear. 'That's interesting. We'd like to know what's going o there also. Yes, I think it is vital that we get together before yo leave. A man like you in place could be of really crucial help to us -Lothar broke off. His expression changed and he stood up huJ riedly, looking over Sean's shoulders.
Following his gaze Sean looked around and Isabella stood clos behind him. She draped one hand languidly over Sean's shouldeJ and leaned one hip against him, but she was watching Lothar.
'This is Bella, my baby sister,' Sean told Lothar, and Isabell murmured, 'Not such a baby any more, big brother." She had nc taken her eyes off Lothar's face.
She had first noticed him in the church during the ceremony and recognized him immediately. He was one of the most famous athlete in the country, a national heart-throb. Sean's conversation with bin had given her the opportunity she had been waiting for.
Despite the fact that her voice was cool and her manner aloof am distant, Sean felt her tremble against him and he grinned inwardly 'Your ovaries are going off like fire crackers, little sister." But hid, said, 'Why don't you sit down and bring a little sunlight into ou drab existence, Bella?" She ignored him and spoke directly to Lothar. 'Do you spend all your time dressed up in a rugby jersey, pushing people around ir scrums and kicking little balls? Or somewhere along the line did yot learn to dance, Lothar De La Rey?" 'Ouch!" Sean murmured. Even for a Courtney, that was pretty direct. And Lothar inclined his head and asked gravely, 'May I have the pleasure of this dance, Isabella Courtney?" They made one circuit of the floor without speaking and then Lothar said, 'If you were my woman, I would not allow you to wear a skirt like that." 'Why? Don't you like my legs?" she asked.
'I like your legs very much indeed,' he replied. 'But if you were my woman, I would not like other men to look at them the way they are doing now." 'You are a prude, Lothar De La Rey." 'Perhaps, Isabella Courtney, but I believe there is a time and a place for everything." She pushed a little closer to him and thought happily to herself, 'So let's find that time and place, you big gorgeous hunk of brawn." Morosely Manfred watched his son on the dance floor and his wife leaned across and echoed his thoughts.
'That hussy is throwing herself at Lothie. Just look at her, showing everything she has. I wish I could go and pull her away from him-' 'I wouldn't do that, skat,' Manfred advised soberly. 'Nothing could make her more attractive to him than our disapproval. But don't worry, Heidi. We have brought him up the right way. He might have a little man's sport with her, but that's not the kind of girl he will bring home." He stood up heavily. 'Trust our boy, Heidi. But now you must forgive me. I must talk to Shasa Courtney - it's very important." Shasa in full morning dress, a white carnation in his buttonhole, the black patch over one eye and a long black cheroot between his teeth was in deep conversation with the groom, but when he saw Manfred approaching and recognized the seriousness of his mien, he slapped Garry's shoulder lightly and said, 'I think it's a good bet,' but you listen to what Sean has to say. Make up your own mind, then come and discuss it with me,' and then he left Garry and came to meet Manfred.
'We must talk - privately,' Manfred greeted him.
'Now?" Shasa looked incredulous, but Manfred insisted.
'It will not take long." 'Let's go up to the house." Shasa took his arm, and chatting amiably led him to the exit, as though they were going off to the men's room together. As soon as they were outside the marquee, they headed for the carpark behind the grandstand.
Manfred prowled around Shasa's gun room, restlessly peering at the framed photographs of hunting safaris, at the mounted animal heads and the racks of sporting rifles and shotguns in their glass fronted cabinet, while Shasa slouched in one of the armchairs and ú watched him patiently, letting him take his time, puffing on the black cheroot.
'Is this room secure? We cannot be overheard?" Manfred asked, and Shasa nodded.
'Perfectly secure. I do much of my private business here - besides which, the house is deserted. Every last servant is down at the polo field." 'Ja, nee, goed!" Manfred came to take the armchair facing Shasa.
'You cannot go off to England as you planned,' he said, and Shasa laughed.
'Why on earth not?" 'I will tell you why." Manfred assured him, but made no attempt to do so. Instead he asked, 'Did you ever see a film called The Manchurian Candidate?" He pronounced it in the Afrikaans fashion 'ri-lien'.
For a moment Shasa was surprised by the irrelevance of the question. Then he replied, 'No, I didn't get around to the movie, but ] did read the book by Richard Condon. Rather enjoyed it, to tell the truth." 'Do you remember the story-line?" 'Yes. It was about a plot to assassinate one of the American presidential candidates." 'That's right,' Manfred nodded. 'The assassin was hypnotized and programmed to respond to the sight of a playing card, one of the aces, I think." 'Ace of spades,' Shasa agreed. 'The death card. He would respond like an automaton to any command he received after he had seen the ace. In a hypnotic trance he was ordered to carry out the assassination." 'Do you think the idea was credible? Do you think a man could be completely subjected to the hypnotic suggestion of another?" 'I don't know,' Shasa admitted. 'The Koreans and the Russians are supposed to have perfected the technique of brainwashing. Perhaps it is possible, in special circumstances, with a particularly susceptible subject - I don't know." Manfred sat in silence for so long that Shasa began to fidget.