Rage - Smith Wilbur - Страница 10
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'Good afternoon, Minister." Shasa was as unsmiling and their grip was hard but brief. Then as Shasa looked deeply into Manfred De La Rey's pale eyes, he had a strange feeling of djd vu, of having stared into those same eyes in desperate circumstances before. He had to shake his head slightly to be rid of it.
'I am glad for both our sakes that you were able to come. Can I help you with your bags?" Manfred De La Rey asked.
'Don't worry. I can manage." Shasa went back to tie down and secure the Mosquito and fetch his luggage from the bomb bay, while Manfred doused the smoke pot.
'You brought your own rifle,' Manfred remarked. 'What is it?" 'Seven men Remington magnum." Shasa swung the luggage into the back of the truck and stepped up into the passenger door of the Ford.
'Perfect for this type of shooting,' Manfred approved as he started the truck. 'Long shots over flat ground." He swung on to the track and they drove for a few minutes in silence.
'The prime minister could not come,' he said. 'He intended to be here, but he sent a letter for you. It confirms that I speak with his authority." 'I'll accept that." Shasa kept a straight face.
'The minister of finance is here, and the minister of agriculture is our host - this is his farm. One of the biggest in the Free State."
'I am impressed." 'Yes,' Manfred nodded. 'I think you will be." He stared hard at Shasa. 'Is it not strange how you and I seem doomed always to confront each other?" 'It had crossed my mind,' Shasa admitted.
'Do you think there is some reason for it - something of which we are unaware?" Manfred insisted, and Shasa shrugged.
'I shouldn't think so - coincidence only." The reply seemed to disappoint Manfred.
'Has your mother never spoken about me?" Shasa looked startled. 'My mother! Good Lord, I don't think so.
She may have mentioned you casually - why do you ask?" Manfred seemed not to have heard, he looked ahead. 'There is the homestead,' he said, with a finality that closed the subject.
The track breasted the rim of a shallow valley and the homesteac nestled below them. Here the water must be near the surface for th pasturage was lush and green and the skeletal steel towers of a dozer windmills were scattered down the valley. A plantation of eucalyptu trees surrounded the homestead, and beyond it stood substantia outbuildings, all freshly painted and in good repair. Twenty or mar.
brand new tractors were lined up before one of the long garages, am there were flocks of fat sheep on the pastures. The plain beyond th, homestead reaching almost to the horizon was already ploughed thousands of acres of chocolate loam ready for sowing with maiz seed. This was the heart land of Afrikanerdom, this was where th support of the National Party was solid and unwavering, and i was the reason why under the Nationalists the electoral areas ha, been re-demarcated to swing the centres of power away from th urban concentrations of population to favour these rural constitt encies. That was why the Nationalists would stay in power for eve: and Shasa grimaced sourly. Immediately Manfred glanced at bin but Shasa offered no explanation and they drove down to the horn stead and parked in the farm yard.
There were a dozen men sitting at the long yellow-wood kitche table, smoking and drinking co(fee and chatting while the wome hovered in attendance. The men rose to welcome Shasa and he wel down the table shaking hands with each of them and exchangir polite, if not effusive greetings.
Shasa knew every one of them. He had faced all of them across tl floor of the house and had lashed most of them with his tongue, or in return had been attacked and vilified by each of them, but no they made room for him at the table and the hostess poured strol black coffee for him and placed a dish of sweet cakes and bar baked rusks in front of him. They all treated him with that inna courtesy and hospitality that is the hallmark of the Afrikaner.
Though they were dressed in rough hunting clothing and pretended to be bluff and simple farmers, they were in reality a group of shrewd and adroit politicians, amongst the richest and most powerful men in the land.
Shasa spoke their language perfectly, understood the most heavily veiled references and laughed at their private jokes, but he was not one of them. He was the rooinek, the traditional enemy, and subtly they had closed their ranks against him.
When he had drunk his coffee his host, the minister of agriculture, told him, 'I will show you to your room. You will want to change and unpack your rifle. We will hunt as soon as it is cooler." A little after four o'clock, they set out in a procession of pick-up trucks, the elder more important men riding in the cabs while the others stood in the open backs of the trucks. The cavalcade climbed out of the valley, skirted the ploughed lands and then sped out across the plains towards a line of low hills on the horizon.
They saw game now, small herds of springbok far out on the plain like a fine dusting of cinnamon powder on the pale earth, but the trucks raced on, slowing only as they reached the foot of the rocky hills. The lead truck stopped for a moment and two of the hunters jumped down and scrambled into a shallow donga.
'Good luck! Shoot straight,' they called to them as they passed and a few hundred yards farther the convoy stopped again to let another pair take up their positions.
Within half an hour all of the huntsmen had been hidden in an irregular extended line below the ragged range of hills. Manfred De La Rey and Shasa had been placed together in a cluster of broken grey rock, and they squatted down to wait with their rifles across their laps, staring out across the flats that were speckled with darker scrub.
The trucks, driven by the teenage sons of their host, headed out in a wide circle until they were merely specks against the pale glare of the horizon, each marked by the ostrich feather of dust it drew behind it. Then they turned back towards the hills, travelling more slowly, not much above walking pace, as they began to move the scattered herds of antelope ahead of them.
Shasa and Manfred had almost an hour to wait for the driven game to come within rifle shot, and they chatted in a desultory, seemingly aimless manner, at first touching only lightly on politics, but rather discussing their host, the minister of agriculture, and the other guests. Then quite subtly Manfred changed the direction of their talk and remarked on how little real difference existed between the policies and aspirations of the governing National Party and Shasa's own opposition United Party.
'If you examine it carefully, our differences are only those of style and degree. We both want to keep South Africa safe for the white man and for European civilization. We both know that for all of us apartheid is a matter of life and death. Without it we will all drown in the black sea. Since the death of Smuts, your party has moved sharply towards our own thinking, and the leftists and liberals have begun to split away from you." Shasa was noncommittal, but the point was apt and painful. There were deep cracks appearing in his own party, and every day it became more apparent that they would never again form the government of this land. However, he was intrigued to know where Manfred De La Rey was leading. He had learned never to underestimate this adversary, and he sensed that he was being artfully prepared for the true purpose of this invitation. It was quite obvious that their host had manoeuvred to place them together, and that every other member of the party was privy to the business afoot. Shasa spoke little, conceding nothing, and waited with rising anticipation for the lurking beast to reveal its shape.
'You know that we have entrenched the language and culture of the English-speaking South Africans. There will never be any attempt to erode those rights - we look upon all English speakers of good will who consider themselves South Africans first as our brothers.
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