by Wilbur Smith
She went on quietly, 'I will warn Michael that you are coming home. Please believe me that I will help you in any way that I can. If you need me, let Michael know. It would be best if we do not contact each other once you arrive in the country." Impulsively she dropped the book she was holding and embraced him.
"Oh, Ben, Ben! What a terrible world we live in. We are brother and sister, and yet... It's cruel and inhuman - I hate it." 'Perhaps we can help to change the world.' He returned her embrace quickly and then they drew apart.
"There are many things that I can never tell you, Ben. Forces beyond our control. If we try to oppose them, we will be crushed. They are too powerful for us." 'Still, some of us must try." 'Oh God, Ben. You terrify me when you speak like that." 'Goodbye, Bella,' he said sadly. "I think we might have been good for each other - if only things had been ordained differently.' He placed the Gordimer novel back on the shelf and without looking back walked out into Piccadilly.
Over the years it had become traditional that whenever Isabella was in Johannesburg she stayed with Garry and Holly.
Before she gave up her career to become a full-time wife and mother, Holly had been one of the leading architects in the country. Her designs had won international awards.
47e When they came to build their own home, Garry, who was never one to stint, had given her an open budget and egged her on to design her final masterpiece. She had managed to combine opulence and space with such good taste and invention that their home was Isabella's favourite retreat. She preferred it even to Weltevreden.
As always the family breakfasted on the man-made island in the centre of the miniature lake. On a morning such as this, when the highveld sunshine decked the world in splendour, the roof of the pagoda had been rolled back by its electrically powered machinery and was open to the sky. The flocks of pink flamingo on the lakeshore were free-ranging birds, persuaded to interrupt their continental migrations by this jewel-like stretch of open water.
The older children were in school uniform ready to leave for their daily penance. Isabella was feeding the latest addition to Garry's family, her year-old god-daughter - an exercise which they both enjoyed immensely. It aroused all Isabella's frustrated materrial instincts.
Garry, in his shirt-sleeves and broad, brightly coloured braces at the head of the breakfast-table, had just lit his first cigar of the day.
"Who was the one that accused me of being squeamish?' Isabella demanded of him as she shovelled a teaspoonful of egg into her god-daughter's mouth and then scraped up the overspill as it trickled down her chin.
"It's not a case of squeamishness at all,' Garry protested too loudly.
"I've got five meetings this morning, and Holly's charity ball this evening. Give me a break, Bella." 'You could have cancelled any one of those meetings,' Isabella pointed out.
"Or all of them." 'Look, Mavourneen, there'll be so many politicians and generals crowding the place that there is nothing I could add to the proceedings." 'Don't come over all Irish with me, begorrah. You are funking it, Teddy Bear, and we both know it." Garry let out one of his evasive guffaws, and turned to Holly. 'What time do we have to be there this evening, lover?' But Holly was on Isabella's side.
"Why are you making Bella go through with this awful business?' she demanded.
"I am doing no such thing,' Garry was unconvincingly indignant. 'It's her decision entirely.' He glanced at his wristwatch, and then growled with theatrical menace at his children.
"You monsters are going to be late for school. Get out of itv They showed not the least sign of terror as they lined up to kiss him goodbye, and then clattered off over the bridge like a squadron of cavalry.
"Me, too.' Bella wiped her god-daughter's face and stood up, but Garry stopped her.
"Look, Bella, I apologize. I know I hinted that you couldn't take it. You are as tough as any man I know. You don't have to prove it." 'So you admit you are chickening out, then)' she asked.
"All right,' he capitulated. 'Hell, I don't want to watch it. You don't have to, either." 'I am a director of Capricorn,' she said, and gathered up her handbag and briefcase. 'I'll see you at eight." As she climbed into the Porsche she felt a twinge of guilt. The true reason for her determination to witness the Cyndex tests was not one of duty, not even to demonstrate her toughness. The last Red Rose communique she had received had promised her access to Nicky as soon as she reported that the tests had been successfully carried out.
The drive down to Germiston took her a little over an hour on the new highway. Holly had designed the Capricorn Chemicals plant, and her taste and touch were distinctive. It did not look like a factory. There were lawns and trees, and a cunning exploitation of the terrain so that the least pleasing features of the industrial buildings were disguised or concealed. Those buildings that she had been able to clothe in glass and natural stone were given prominence. The various units were scattered over many hundreds of acres.
The prancing goat figure of the Capricorn logo surmounted the main entrance-gateway. Isabella pressed her electronic key-card into the lock and the gates trundled open. The uniformed guards saluted her as she drove through.
All the visitors' slots in the car park behind the main administration block were filled. Most of the visiting vehicles were black limousines sporting ministerial numberplates or military pennants on the bonnet.
She rode up in the lift, and as she stepped into the director's suite she surveyed the room swiftly. It was a small, almost intimate gathering. Not more than twenty persons were present, and she was the only woman. The politicals and the civil servants were in regulation dark suits, and the military were in uniform. There were all branches of the service represented, including the security police, and they were all of staff or general rank.
She knew more than half those present, including the cabinet minister and the two deputy ministers. A refreshment-table had been laid out, including alcohol, but nobody was drinking anything stronger than coffee. The conversations were exclusively in Afrikaans, and she was struck once again by the major difference between the two white races. The English section was preoccupied with luxury and material possessions, with finance and commerce. The Afrikaner lived in the halls of political and military power.
Here were gathered some of the most powerful men in the land. Though paupers compared to the Courtneys, their political influence dominated the entire society. ~ Compared to them the Courtneys were of little account.
Within the citadel of power the military men, rather like their Russian equivalents, formed a caste of their own before whose strength even the state president bowed his head.
Within seconds she had singled out the most influential men in the room and made her way towards them, exchanging greetings and hand-shakes and smiles with the others as she passed. In this patriarchal society she had carved an unusual niche for herself. They accepted her as almost an equal.
"I'm a sort of honorary male,' she smiled to herself, and shook hands with the minister of defence, then turned to his deputy with a controlled and friendly smile.
"Good morning, General De La Rey,' she greeted him in fluent colloquial Afrikaans. Lothar De La Rey had been the first grand passion of her life.
They had lived together for six months, before he had dropped her and gone off to marry a good Afrikaner girl of the Dutch Reformed faith. If he had not, he would not now be a deputy minister, and a man who it was whispered had no ceiling on his political future.
"Good morning, Dr. Courtney.' He was as polite, but he could not keep his eyes on her face. They slid over her body in swift appreciation.
Go ahead, lover boy, she thought, knowing that she had never looked better in her life. Eat your heart out - then go home to your fat little farm-girl.
Despite her fingering resentment she had to admit to herself that he also was looking good. So many Afrikaners put on weight once their Rugby-playing days were over. Lothar was as lean and hard and clean-cut as he had been ten years before. He was probably
just about ripe for a little fling, she thought, and he would certainly have some interesting pillow-talk.
I'd love to have my revenge on you, she thought. She had once contemplated suicide for him. It would give her pleasure to place him on the list of Red Rose's informers. Then quite suddenly she thought of Ramsey, her Ramsey, and her physical interest in Lothar subsided.
Only in the line of duty, she decided - and at that moment the Capricorn general manager caught her eye.
She made a short welcoming address to the company and apologized for the absence of the chairman. Then she 48o invited them through into the projection room for the presentation.
The video film that Capricorn had prepared was of high professional quality. It included computer-generated simulations and artist's impressions of the deployment and dissemination of Cyndex under combat and battlefield conditions. As the video ran, Isabella glanced round the semi-darkened room. She could see that all the military men were passionately excited by this new weapon. They watched the screen with a deadly concentration and when the tape came to an end they broke into animated discussion amongst themselves.
When Paul Searle, the Israeli technical director whom Isabella had recruited in Tel Aviv, stood up and called for commet, they bombarded him with searching questions. Isabella noticed that up to this time there had been no sign of Ben. His brown face had been discreetly kept in a back room somewhere. Inevitably one of the generals asked the question that Isabella had been dreading. He put it bluntly.
"Has this gas ever been used on a human population? If so, can you give us details?" 'Perhaps the general can provide us with a few surplus Cuban POWs from Angola?' the director asked, and they laughed delightedly at the graveyard humour.
"Seriously, General, the answer to your question is no. However, it has been tested extensively overseas under laboratory conditions with excellent results. In fact we have arranged for you to witness our own first test today." The pesticide and poisons division of Capricorn Chemicals was situated half a mile from the administrative block. The party drove down in a convoy with the minister's black Cadillac in the lead. Isabella sat beside him in the back seat and pointed out features of the Capricorn plant.
"This section here is the uranium enrichment plant. You see how we have made it appear to be merely an extension of the main bulk phosphate refinery..." The minister of defence had the reputation of possessing a fiery temper.
However, she had always got on well with him, and respected him for his dedication and political acumen. They chatted in friendly fashion during the short drive until they drew up at the front gate of the pesticide and agricultural poisons plant. This was a separate compound within the main complex.
It was surrounded by a twelve-foot diamond-mesh fence. There were prominent warning notices placed at intervals along the fence. These featured red skull-and-crossbones designs with warnings in three languages: 'Danger!
Gevaar! Ingozil' The guards at the main gate had Rottweiler guard-dogs on leads. The plant was screened by a grove of trees. The building was long and low, the walls were of natural stone and all the external windows were smoked one-way glass. There was a further security check at the entrance, and even the minister was asked to pass through the electronic scanner.
The Israeli director led them down a series of carpeted corridors, each separated by steel fire- and gas-proof doors, until finally they entered the new Cyndex extension. The building was still so new that it smelt of raw concrete. They assembled in a small entrance-lobby. The gas-doors closed behind them, and the director addressed them.
"Strict safety procedures are in force in this section of the building. You will notice the air-conditioning.' He gestured at the panels in the walls.
"The quality of air in the building is strictly monitored at all times. In the highly unlikely event of a leak developing, the air can be pumped out and changed within ten seconds.' For a few minutes more he elaborated on the building's safety features. 'However, for your further safety, before entering the main plant you will be required to don protective suits." There were separate changing-rooms for the sexes. In the women's room a coloured female attendant assisted Isabella to strip to her underwear, and then she hung her suit in one of the lockers for her. She helped Isabella into the one-piece white protective overall that had been laid out for her.
There were white plastic boots and gloves, and she showed Isabella how to place the helmet over her head and switch on the compressed-air supply. There was a clear plastic visor, and the air-cylinder was contained in a neat back-pack that formed part of the helmet attachment.
There were built-in headphones that permitted normal conversation.
Isabella returned to the lobby and rejoined the rest of the party.
"If we are all ready, my lady and gentlemen?'The director turned to the door in the far wall. It slid open, and they trooped through. There were four technicians to welcome them. Isabella noticed that, while the visitors wore white suits, the four technicians were in chrome yellow and the director's suit was tomato red for easy identification.
One of the yellow-suited technicians ushered them down yet another short corridor. As they went, he fell in beside Isabella.
"Good morning, Dr. Courtney,' he said softly, and with a small shock she recognized his voice and she looked into his yisor.
"Hello, Mr. Afrika,' she murmured. 'How are you enjoying your job with Capricorn?' It was the first time she had seen him since London.
"It is very interesting, thank you.' That was all that passed between them before they entered the test-room, but Lothar De La Rey had been watching her. As they seated themselves in the row of padded leather armchairs Lothar took the seat beside Isabella and asked: 'Wie is die kaffir? Who is the nigger?" 'His name is Afrika. He has a degree in chemical engineering." 'How do you know him?' Lothar insisted.
"I was on the selection committee who recruited him." 'He has security clearance, of course?" 'Of course. He was cleared by your own department,' she added artlessly. He nodded, and they turned their attention back to the director.
"These are the test-cubicles.' At the end of the room were four windows that looked in upon separate chambers; each was the size of a telephone booth - or a toilet cabinet was a better description, Isabella decided.
"The windows are of double armoured glass,' the director pointed out. "And you will notice the monitors above each.' He pointed to the electronic panels on which vital life functions were displayed in green LED printout.
Behind the windows, strapped to bare white plastic chairs were four small humanoid figures. For a moment Isabella thought they were children - and then the director explained.
"The test subjects are baboons of the genus Papio ursinus. They may seem unfamiliar to you, because they have been shaved to resemble human subjects more closely. You will notice that Number One is almost completely unprotected." The naked shaven body strapped to the chair in the first cubicle was pathetically vulnerable-looking. The infant's disposable nappy which was its only garment added to the poignancy.
"Number Two is wearing clothing that resembles normal military uniform." This baboon was dressed in a miniature suit of combat fatigues, but the arms and head were unprotected.
"Number Three is fully covered except for eyes, mouth and nose.' The animal wore gloves and a soft plastic hood which left only its face bare.
"Number Four is equipped with a fully protective suit, similar to those which have been issued to you. These will be worn by friendly forces when handling or disseminating Cyndex 25.' He paused. 'I may add that subjects One, Two and Three have been sedated. There will be physical symptoms apparent upon application of the test agent, but these are reflexive reactions of the central nervous system and should not be construed as indicating the degree of suffering that the animal is undergoing." Isabella felt her stomach muscles tightening, and despite the filtered air she was breathing her chest felt tight and constricted.