Unofficial and Deniable

by John Gordon Davis

  Harker sighed grimly. ‘So what happened?’

  ‘So,’ Josephine said, ‘every day we watched your trial.’ She looked at him. ‘God it was awful to watch you being tried for murdering me when I was alive but unable to jump up and shout, “Here I am!”’ She wiped her eyes. ‘And your cross-examination was terrible. You looked so goddam guilty. Anyway, they were expecting you to be acquitted. So was I. In which case, they would murder you if you were released before fifteenth of December, the last day for amnesty applications. And, of course, they would have to then murder me too, to stop me talking. And then on the fourteenth of December you were convicted. They were frantic you would spill the beans on them. And so was I because then I was going to be murdered.’ Josephine closed her eyes. She took a moment, before continuing. ‘And then Derek came to me. He pretended to befriend me. To offer me a deal. He said that the fifteenth of December was the last day anyone could apply to the Truth Commission for amnesty. If you were going to spill the beans it would have to be the next day in order to qualify for South African amnesty – so Jack only had another twenty-four hours or so in which to confess to the Truth Commission, if he didn’t do it before then he would never do it, Derek said. He said he had contacts in the Truth Commission secretariat who would advise him whether or not you had confessed in time. So, Derek said, after midnight the next day, South African time, there was no further reason to worry about you and therefore no further reason to keep me hostage – because surely I would keep my mouth shut, wouldn’t I? Obviously, if I were freed I would immediately get you released from Death Row and I would hardly then send you straight back into jail by telling about my captivity and your CCB background, would I? That was logical. So, Derek said, the day after tomorrow they would release me, but if I ever changed my mind for any reason and decided to report them to the police I would be “blown away”. And you, Jack. We would be hunted down to the ends of the earth, we would be fugitives for the rest of our lives.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And I believe them.’

  Harker stood up and began to pace. ‘But your pal Derek is also right when he says we’ll keep our mouths shut. Because, no way do I want to go back to jail for Long Island, and I’m sure you don’t want to be a fugitive for life either.’

  Josephine rubbed her eyebrows.

  ‘Except,’ she said tensely, ‘I’m quite sure that it was all a trick.’ She looked up at Harker. ‘I’m quite sure that their strategy was to release me so that I could get you released, and then they would have the chance to murder you – and me – in case you broke down and confessed to the Truth Commission.’ She looked at him.

  Harker said, ‘But that doesn’t make sense – why would I confess to the Truth Commission now that the amnesty cut-off date has passed? I’d be prosecuted.’

  Josephine said, ‘Because of Looksmart Kumalo. They’re scared you’ll make a deal with the DA and give evidence against them, then give evidence for Looksmart in his civil action when he sues the South African army for millions. Then give evidence for the DA against the boys, Derek, Dupont and company, at their criminal trial. And for the attorney general in South Africa if they were prosecuted there.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Looksmart suddenly appearing on the scene, vowing to sue, really worried them – that’s why they went after you, Jack, because they feared you’d team up with Looksmart.’ She sighed tensely, then ended: ‘Believe me, they’re after you, Jack. I am quite sure that they were waiting for you outside the prison this morning. And that they’ve followed us to this hotel – they’re waiting for us somewhere right now.’

  Charlie and Harker were frowning at her. Luke said, ‘Then you guys need protection. I mean bodyguards – not the police. Hired muscle. Until you’re safely out of this town.’

  Harker asked Charlie, ‘D’you know a reliable security firm?’

  ‘Sure,’ Charlie said. ‘Don’t come cheap, however.’

  ‘Hell,’ Harker said, ‘we’ll only need them for a few days. For as long as it takes us to get the boat cranked up.’

  ‘The police assured me that the boat is in good condition,’ Charlie said. ‘She’s clean and the engine’s fine. You could go straight to sea if you wanted to.’

  ‘I think,’ Harker said, ‘we both need a few days’ rest in this nice hotel.’

  Josephine glanced at him, anguished. Then she turned to Charlie and Luke. ‘Would you mind leaving us alone for a short while?’

  ‘Sure,’ Luke said. He stood up.

  Charlie looked taken aback. Then he stood up stiffly. ‘Of course. We’ll be in the bar downstairs.’ He added, ‘As if you couldn’t guess.’

  Harker frowned. The two men crossed the room.

  The door clicked closed behind them. Josephine sighed. Suddenly her eyes were tearful.

  ‘I love you, Jack,’ she whispered. ‘But I cannot live with you. I cannot sleep with you tonight. I cannot sail away with you.’

  Harker stared at her, disbelief on his face. Josephine held his eye, her tears glistening.

  ‘I love you but I do not want to love you, Jack. I want the man I first fell in love with. The go-ahead publisher, the honourable soldier, all that lovely stuff. I do not want to love the man who was an assassin. Who deceived me for years about his political associations. Who pretended to support my political beliefs – who even published my political beliefs, whilst all the time working for my sworn political enemy.’

  Harker stared at her, his mind stumbling. Tor Christ’s sake, I’ve explained all that –’

  Josephine interrupted desperately: ‘Oh, I remember! I’ve had almost four months’ imprisonment to remember, and to weigh every word. And to reconsider. For months I’ve talked to you in my head about it all – and nothing that you say can change my mind, Jack. Because you deceived me for years and I don’t think I can trust you again.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake,’ Harker cried incredulously. ‘Espionage is based on deception! I was in the game before I met you!’

  ‘The fact remains I was totally deceived by the man I love! Right now I do not know whether I can ever trust you again:’ She looked at him, tremulously. ‘And,’ she said, ‘you deceived me about the shares in Harvest.’ She looked at him. ‘I was horrified when I saw you admit that under cross-examination. Horrified.’

  Harker closed his eyes. ‘Please listen to me. Don’t interrupt.’ He looked at her. She looked back at him grimly. He said, ‘I didn’t ask you to buy my fifty-one per cent shareholding in Harvest – you did, I intended to sell on the open market to Packard, but you insisted – you refused to let Packard get control of “your” publisher. I tried to dissuade you, but you insisted. You even agreed that I keep two per cent of the shares so that we controlled the company between us.’ He glared. ‘If you had not insisted I would have sold to Packard or somebody else, and had the same amount of money. And you would have the same amount of money invested elsewhere – if you hadn’t invested in Harvest you would have bought some other company’s shares.’

  Josephine’s eyes were moist. ‘You deceived me into thinking you and I controlled Harvest, between us.’

  ‘But we do control Harvest between us!’

  ‘Sure, with your two per cent and my forty-nine we control Harvest! Great! That’s what I bargained for. But the truth is that with your two per cent and Westminster’s forty-nine per cent you control Harvest without me! You can do what you like, despite my expensive forty-nine per cent!’

  Harker said angrily, ‘So you don’t trust me to run Harvest in our best interests? Mine and yours? Fine – you want your money back? I’ll give you your money back!’ He jumped up and strode across the room to his bag. He unzipped it and snatched out his cheque book.

  Josephine said sullenly, ‘A two-point-two-million-dollar cheque? I know how much money you’ve got in that account, the whole world knows because it was on television – nine thousand dollars.’

  ‘And the rest,’ Harker said angrily. ‘Because, darling, I’m going to sell my Westminster shares to Mr go
ddam Packard for two-point-two million dollars and –’ his eyes flashed at Josie – ‘nice Mr Packard and I will control Harvest with our joint fifty-one per cent, and you, my darling – as you spurn my lousy two per cent – you can scream your head off at annual general meetings and nobody will take the slightest fucking notice!’

  Josephine glared at him. Furiously astounded. Then she whispered, ‘You wouldn’t do that to me.’

  Harker cried, ‘Oh wouldn’t I?’ He tapped his breast. ‘Listen, baby, I’ve just got off Death Row, and you’ve just got off CCB’s death row, and if you don’t mind me saying so I think you’re being a trifle fucking precious! You can control Harvest through me, or Packard can control Harvest through me, It’s up to you!’ His eyebrows shot up. ‘Or I can control Harvest, all by myself – through Westminster!’

  Josephine glared. ‘With nine thousand dollars in the bank?’

  ‘You think I can’t find a bank to lend me money against the security of Harvest and Westminster?’

  Josephine looked at him angrily. Then she repeated, ‘You didn’t tell me about Westminster, that you owned it.’

  Harker cried, ‘How could I have told you about Westminster? If I had you would have asked all kinds of questions and the fact that the CCB had owned Westminster might have emerged – as it has now! Then you would have exploded and deserted me! As you have now.’

  Josephine looked at him, her eyes hard. She repeated doggedly, ‘You deceived me.’

  ‘Right, I deceived you! And so you’ll never trust me again. Okay, so I’ll now leave. But before I do let me just set the record straight.’ He strode to the writing desk, snatched up a sheet of paper and wrote: I, Sinclair Jonathan Harker, hereby sell to my wife, Josephine Valentine Harker, my two per cent shareholding in Harvest House, Inc, for the sum of one dollar, value received.

  He signed it and strode back to Josephine. He thrust it at her. ‘There. You now control Harvest House. Give me a dollar!’

  Josephine read the brief contract. She glanced up at him.

  ‘I don’t want it.’

  ‘Oh yes you do!’ Harker strode to her handbag, snatched out her purse, extracted a dollar note. He held it up to her. ‘Want a receipt?’

  Josephine looked at him tearfully.

  ‘Good.’ He glared at her. ‘Thank you. I’m leaving now, in accordance with your wishes. I’m going to the boat, to crank her up and put to sea, seeing that the honeymoon I had in mind is not forthcoming.’ He paused. ‘Any chance of you changing your exquisite mind?’

  Josephine’s big blue eyes were full of tears. Then she shook her head slightly, her lip trembling.

  ‘You go, Jack,’ she whispered. ‘Go and disappear into the wide blue yonder. These guys are after us, Jack. After you and me. I do not wish to spend the rest of my life on the run, a fugitive from your terrible people.’

  Harker strode back and dropped to his knee beside her. ‘But we won’t be!’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t believe you’re right in your assessment of the situation. The deadline for amnesty was midnight yesterday. If I were to confess now I would be mad – even if the DA in New York gives me immunity to testify against the CCB, and for Looksmart, I’d be prosecuted in South Africa!’ He spread his hands. ‘Why on earth would I do that? I’ve just got off Death Row! And why did the CCB wait until the sixteenth of December – the day after the expiration of the amnesty cut-off date – before releasing you?’ He spread his hands again. ‘Because after that date I am no threat to them, and therefore nor are you.’ He squeezed her arms urgently. ‘Josie, I doubt anybody’s out there waiting to kill us.’ He took both her hands. ‘Josie, let’s forget about all that – all that dreadful past. Josie –’ he squeezed her hands hard – ‘we’ve both just got off Death Row, for Christ’s sake!’ He looked at her in tearful wonder. ‘That is an event so joyous, so extraordinary that we should be dancing in the streets.’ He shook his head at her: ‘We can’t split up now after all we’ve been through – we’ve just been reunited! Besides, if what you say is true you need me to protect you!’

  Josephine’s eyes were brimming. ‘On the contrary, the greater the distance between us the safer I’ll be.’

  Harker closed his eyes. ‘For Christ’s sake, realize that there is no danger now that amnesty deadline is past!’

  Just then the telephone rang. ‘Leave it,’ Harker commanded, but Josie reached out and picked it up. ‘Hullo?’

  ‘Sorry to disturb you,’ Luke said, ‘but I thought you should know it’s just been announced on television that President Nelson Mandela has extended the deadline for amnesty applications by another six months.’

  56

  Harker rode down in the elevator with the bodyguard Charlie had arranged.

  It was all unreal. Unreal that he was free. Unreal that Josie was alive. Unreal that he was leaving her. And it was all screamingly real. And his heart was breaking. The tears were burning in his eyes.

  The elevator doors opened in the parking basement. The bodyguard, name of Mike, stepped out, gun ready. He peered all around, then led the way through the gloom to his vehicle. Their footsteps echoing. Another bodyguard was waiting behind the wheel. Harker climbed into the back seat. Mike walked up the exit ramp and peered out into the sunshine. He beckoned. When the vehicle drew up he got in beside Harker.

  ‘Where to?’ the driver said.

  ‘Police jetty, please.’

  And the drive there was unreal. Traffic and palm trees flashing past, suburbs, condominiums, canals, yachts. And all the time back there in the Edgewater Hotel was Josephine, weeping. Also unreal. Go now, go and save your life,, go and sail away over the horizon and disappear like you were going to do …

  Please come with me.

  Please go now before they find you.

  Then meet me in St Thomas.

  I don’t want to love you any more.

  But you do love me?

  Please go now, and never come back.

  Meet me in Jamaica. It’s lovely there.

  Please go now.

  There were all kinds of vessels moored stern-to along the police jetty. They were mostly boats that had been seized for involvement in smuggling offences. Yacht Rosemary was right down at the far end.

  Harker went into the police station, followed by his bodyguards. He signed some forms, took possession of the boat’s keys and papers. The policeman on duty was very nice to him; he had followed the trial on television avidly. ‘Good luck to you, sir!’ Harker thanked him and walked down the concrete quay to his boat.

  And there she was. So beautiful. And so heartbreaking.

  He clambered aboard, over the transom, and threw his bag down at the aft helm. He went forward and unlocked the wheelhouse door. He turned to his bodyguards who were still standing on the jetty.

  ‘Thank you, you can go now.’

  Mike shook his head. ‘Our orders are to stay by you until you sail.’

  Harker smiled bleakly. ‘Then, come aboard out of the sun. Have something to drink.’

  ‘No drinking on duty, sir. We’ll sit under the awning.’

  Harker opened the door to the wheelhouse. It was stuffy, hot and humid, And, oh God, all those dreadful nights and days after the attack came flooding back at him. Dreadful and heartbreaking. There was the broken glass on the speedometer dial, the broken radio.

  He opened the windows, and the overhead hatch. Then he clattered down the steps into the saloon.

  He went into the galley and hit the electric-generator switch. The little machine thudded to life. He turned on the refrigerator, then he slid back the engine-room door.

  There was the big red engine, gleaming at him. He pulled out the dipstick: plenty of oil. He unscrewed the radiator cap: the system had fresh water. He tugged the fan belts: they were tight. He checked the batteries: they had water.

  So, the police had looked after her. He slid the door closed.

  He opened the overhead lockers in the galley. There was plenty of canned food. He knew there
was booze aboard. He went back up into the wheelhouse. He pressed the glow-switch for twenty seconds, then twisted the ignition; beneath his feet Big Red thudded sweetly to life.

  He left the engine idling and clattered below again before he could start thinking. He went down the companionway to his aft cabin to change clothes. And, oh, the big panelled cabin cried Josie at him …

  He opened her lockers. And there were her pretty dresses and skirts and blouses. Harker looked at them, his heart breaking – he wanted to slam the closet shut to stop himself hurting, but he could not. He reached out and fingered the first dress. Feeling its soft femaleness. He brought it to his face and smelt it – and yes, he could smell her scent.

  Then he pulled open her lingerie drawer.

  And there they all were in a silky, multi-coloured jumble: her scanty panties, her stockings, the ones with seams that led all the way up her beautiful legs, her suspender belts … Harker’s eyes were brimming, his heart breaking. He wanted to clutch them all to his face, to feel her intimacy, to breathe her scent deep. Instead he banged the drawer closed and pulled open the closet that contained his clothes. He snatched up a T-shirt and shorts.

  The engine was idling sweetly under his feet when he clambered back up into the wheelhouse. The two bodyguards were sitting under the aft awning.

  ‘Okay, I’m about to cast off,’ he told them. ‘You can go now, many thanks.’

  Mike stood up. ‘Okay, sir,’ he said. ‘Have a good trip.’ He put out his hand. ‘And congratulations again.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Harker shook hands with both of them. ‘Would you mind throwing off those two stern lines on the jetty?’ He pointed.