Collington shook Jenkins’ hand and formally called the meeting to order. For Jenkins’ benefit he repeated the engineers’ reports from all five mines and then widened the discussion to include those directors who had heard them before by setting out his intention regarding Witwatersrand Four.
‘Will it work?’ demanded Jenkins, at once.
‘I’ve just come back from there,’ said Collington. ‘I don’t think there’s any problem.’
‘It would underpin the confidence beautifully,’ said Jamieson, admiringly, it’s an excellent idea.’
‘What about the investigations?’ said Metzinger.
Collington turned to the deputy chairman. Because of his association with Knoetze, it was more than likely that Metzinger had contacted the security chief. Would Knoetze have maintained his undertaking? he wondered.
Parts of explosives have been recovered from Witwatersrand One, Two and Four,’ he said. ‘They’re Communist in origin.’
‘Why us?’ demanded Brooking.
‘If I knew the answer to that, then a great many things might become clearer,’ said Collington, pointedly avoiding looking at either Metzinger or Wassenaar as he spoke. ‘There seems to be no apparent logical reason.’
‘How much are the repairs going to cost?’ demanded de Villiers, wanting information about which he could feel comfortable.
‘It hasn’t been costed in detail yet,’ said Collington. ‘The estimate is about R7,000,000.’
‘Seven million!’ echoed Platt. ‘What about insurance?’
‘We’ve got two-thirds cover, on a political sabotage policy taken out through Lloyds of London. The canisters will provide a proof of claim. I’ll brief the lawyers tomorrow.’
‘Still a lot to make up,’ complained de Villiers, as if he were personally being asked to make up the shortfall.
‘What do you think the shares will do when the markets open on Monday?’ asked Brooking and Collington was conscious of a stir of movement from his left, where Metzinger and Wassenaar were sitting.
‘Normally there would be a drop,’ he said, glad of the question because of the discomfort it caused. ‘Investors would have had the weekend to sit and worry. That’s why I’m timing the press announcements. Today, for use in the Sunday papers here and in England and America, we’re issuing a statement saying that the damage doesn’t appear as serious as was first thought. Tomorrow, for the morning newspapers that will be read a couple of hours before the markets start, there’s going to be the announcement about the re-opening of Four and the press visit. On Monday we’ll release in detail the damage to Four and how it was repaired and that should carry us nicely through to Wednesday.’
‘Beautiful,’ said Jamieson.
‘And no one will be able to accuse us of lying,’ said Collington. Knowing that for Metzinger, Wassenaar and Janet Simpson to recover their money, they had to hope the shares would go below the five points at which they had lost on Friday, he added, ‘By Wednesday I would expect us to be at par or maybe a point or two above. At worst, I can’t see us dropping more than two in the other direction.’
He looked to his left as he finished speaking, so that he caught the look of annoyance that went between Wassenaar and Metzinger. Had they quarrelled? It was a possibility that hadn’t occurred to him until that moment but he supposed it was likely, now that the scheme had gone wrong. From his knowledge of the number of shares on offer, Collington knew that de Villiers hadn’t been included. What was the reason, he wondered, for the accountant’s exclusion?
‘I think it’s been a great salvage operation,’ said Jenkins. ‘I’d like to propose a motion of gratitude to the chairman.’
‘Seconded,’ said Brooking, speaking fractionally ahead of Jamieson. All the hands went up, Metzinger and Wassenaar slightly behind the others.
Collington nodded his thanks and said, ‘I don’t see anything happening to justify us meeting tomorrow. Why don’t we remain flexible during the coming week, so that we’re all available if the need arises.’
There were gestures of agreement around the table and Collington looked at his watch, realising he would be able to get back to Hannah earlier than he had anticipated. He was tired, he realised – not the physical fatigue that had followed the sleepless night when he had visited the bombed mines, but a mental weariness, trying to produce the right conclusion from the confusion of the past two or three days.
He rose, formally breaking up the meeting, and as he moved away from the table he became aware of Metzinger at his elbow. ‘Can we talk?’ said his father-in-law, and Collington was conscious of a change in the man’s customary attitude. Had he not known Metzinger so well and therefore been aware that such a thing were impossible, Collington would have thought of it as meekness. Whatever the definition, it showed that the man was worried.
‘Of course,’ he accepted.
He led the way into his adjoining offices, with Metzinger following. There was still a stiffness about the man, thought Collington, as Metzinger seated himself.
‘There’s a lot of official concern over this,’ announced Metzinger.
‘I should imagine there would be,’ said Collington. A worried man about to make mistakes, he thought.
‘I’ve been approached, to make that clear,’ said Metzinger.
‘Shouldn’t you have mentioned it in there?’ asked Collington, nodding towards the boardroom they had just left.
‘I thought it best to keep it between ourselves, in view of the other circumstances.’
‘Other circumstances?’ said Collington, determined to back Metzinger into as tight a position as possible.
‘The oil negotiations,’ said Metzinger.
Which I now know to be bullshit, thought Collington. His guess that morning in Knoetze’s office, that Metzinger intended to use the oil negotiations for some sort of public humiliation, had to be right for the man to force the matter at a time when five of their mines had been bombed and they should have been considering nothing else. Collington thought back to his reflection an hour before in the boardroom. They had obviously intended to buy back somewhere lower than the five points at which he had snapped up the shares they had on offer. To recover the money, Metzinger had to continue with his oil idea, unaware of Collington’s purchase barrier which would always defeat him, hoping that he could buy substantially at a sudden dip below five and then make his profit when they rose again in value. Having been burned once, badly, it was an act of desperation. And also unnecessary. Collington was fairly certain that Metzinger would have been able to withdraw some of the shares, but even if he had lost all of them, the money would have been unimportant to someone of his wealth. And then Collington thought of the sort of man he recognised Metzinger to be, after all the years he had known him. Desperate and unnecessary it might be, but it was completely in character. Metzinger had always found it impossible to lose anything, whether it was money or an argument or a boardroom dispute. Or even a daughter.
‘Has there been some discussion about the oil negotiations?’ he said, pushing Metzinger further back into a corner.
Metzinger nodded. ‘The mine attack, so soon after the Sasol bombings, seems to indicate an escalation in the terrorism. They’re anxious to secure an agreement as soon as possible. A guaranteed supply would remove a lot of uncertainty.’
‘I understand,’ said Collington. ‘But there’s nothing I can do. I’ve taken the approach as far as I can. The next contact must come from Hassan.’
‘It’s been weeks,’ said Metzinger.
‘I’m aware of the time,’ said Collington.
‘Couldn’t you make the approach?’ urged Metzinger.
Anxiety was practically leaking out of the man, thought Collington. He shook his head. ‘I don’t think that would be good tactics, do you?’
‘Normally, no,’ agreed Metzinger. ‘But the government feeling is that we should try to force the pace a little. Get a commitment.’
But for his encounter that morning wit
h Louis Knoetze, he would have regarded this as a logical argument, thought Collington. He made another doubtful gesture. ‘I wouldn’t want to drive Hassan away. Or make him think he can increase the pressure upon us because we are desperate.’
‘If he did want a higher commission, I think they might be prepared to pay,’ said Metzinger.
This from a man who had queried the figure when he had announced it a few weeks earlier, remembered Collington.
‘I’ll remember that,’ said Collington. ‘I think we should try to get past the immediate crisis first.’
‘Let’s keep in touch about it,’ said Metzinger. ‘I don’t think it’s a situation we should let slip out of our hands.’
‘I won’t let it slip out of my hands,’ assured Collington.
He telephoned ahead, so Hannah was expecting him when he got back to Parkstown.
‘You look exhausted,’ she said.
‘I am.’
‘And you smell!’
‘It’s bloody hot at the bottom of a gold mine.’
She stretched up to kiss him. ‘I don’t mind your smell,’ she said.
Collington held her tightly, staring over her shoulder. Thank Christ they had got back together before it had all happened, he thought. He wondered if he would ever be able to tell her what was happening between himself and her father. He’d promised complete honesty, he remembered.
‘How is it?’ she said, pulling back.
‘Containable, with luck,’ he said. ‘I’ve worked out something to try to stop a share slide.’
‘In for the evening?’
‘I hope so.’ As Collington spoke, the telephone beside them in the hallway rang and she said, ‘Oh no!’
Collington felt a flicker of apprehension and then reached out to pick up the instrument. Immediately he recognised Geoffrey Wall’s voice. There had been a message from the Saudi Arabian embassy in London, said the personal assistant. Prince Hassan would welcome another meeting.
Henry Moreton had always prided himself on being a realist, but even at his most objective he would not have forecast the success he had achieved. In less than a year he had turned the weakness of the dollar into something approaching an unchallengeable strength, earned the respect and friendship of the President of the United States and become practically as well known as Henry Kissinger had been. Life was an unblemished success. He frowned, questioning the assessment. Not quite unblemished. There were some private things that could be improved. Increasingly Barbara was boring him. But she was accompanying him less and less to official functions. He wouldn’t risk an open split, of course, because of the political embarrassment it would cause. Those sort of arrangements were accepted and understood in Washington.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The carefully orchestrated publicity achieved precisely the effect that Collington intended. There was no drop at all at market opening in South Africa and the day ended with a two point, across-the-board average rise. They lost two points in initial trading in London, then the market stabilised and closed three above par. In Wall Street the final figure was one point up.
Nothing was found during the Monday security check at Witwatersrand, but the workers who had failed to report for work the day after the explosion remained absent. Police swooped on their homesteads and found they had disappeared. It took a further day to establish their membership of the African National Congress. A government announcement was made in Pretoria, stating the fact as positive proof that the mine sabotage had been Communist inspired.
Collington went to Skinner Street guessing that the security chief would imagine that the confirmation of the ANC involvement was the point of the meeting and, for the first fifteen minutes, Collington let the discussion with Louis Knoetze concentrate upon the investigation of the security forces. Several times he mentioned the company’s gratitude at the speed of the enquiry, rightly assessing Knoetze’s pride in identifying it as a political act.
‘It still doesn’t resolve the inconsistency of why it was only your mines, though,’ said Knoetze. ‘SAGOMI is not even Afrikaner-controlled, which is another intangible. Why not Anglo-American, which is? Or Union Corporation?’
They had been through it all at the weekend meeting and nothing that had happened since was going to clarify it any further, Collington thought. So it would be a conversation into a cul-de-sac.
‘Has there been an opportunity since our last meeting for you to discuss with anyone else the other matter we discussed?’ he asked.
Knoetze regarded him warily. ‘Other matter?’
‘That of energy supply.’
‘I said at the time that I imagined there would be some interest,’ said Knoetze, avoiding the direct answer. The smile clicked on and off, an almost apologetic expression.
‘If an approach had been made, then, to some company sufficiently large to undertake the amount of organisation involved, you don’t foresee any objections to it being pursued?’ said Collington. Why was there the necessity to open diplomatic discussions with such ambiguity? wondered Collington. It was practically a replay of his London hotel meeting with Hassan.
‘The government is always interested in beneficial trade links between this country and others,’ said Knoetze.
It was like playing tennis with a superior player, constantly having the ball returned into his own court, thought Collington. He didn’t think he would be able to get any firmer insurance if anything went wrong.
‘I’m going abroad in a day or two,’ he said.
‘How long do you expect to be away?’
‘Only briefly,’ said Collington. ‘Just a few days.’ He allowed a pause in the conversation, uncertain whether or not to go on. Then he said, ‘There was an understanding between us. About discretion.’
Knoetze frowned, an unusual expression for the man, and Collington thought momentarily that he might have offended the Afrikaner. Instead Knoetze said, ‘This conversation won’t go beyond the two of us.’
It would probably seem gibberish if it did, thought Collington, on his way down to street level in the lift. That was juvenile bitterness, he reflected. He had been over-confident in expecting any reaction other than that which he had got from Knoetze. So it had been a pointless encounter. Yet not quite, he decided.
Although they’d mouthed the words like students learning a foreign language, Knoetze wasn’t in any doubt now about what he was talking about. How far the man would be prepared to come out and support him if things went wrong was a different matter: probably not at all. But there was no uncertainty in Collington’s mind that he had been given the nod to continue with whatever he was doing.
There had been several conversations between the embassy in London and Pretoria since the weekend contact. Hassan had apparently remained in Austria to ski after the OPEC meeting, and so the meeting was scheduled for Vienna. The Arab had stipulated the Sacher hotel. After his meeting with Knoetze, Collington had Wall confirm the Thursday appointment and then concentrated upon the press visit to Witwatersrand Four. There had been over a hundred applications to attend, which had surprised him. He increased the number of maps produced for distribution at the mine-head, and he double-checked the transportation arrangements to ensure that they returned in sufficient time to transmit pictures and stories to whatever newspapers they represented. Helicopters were provided for the television reporters and, as an afterthought, Collington ordered that more should be chartered, in case there were any disruption or delay in the other transport.
He went down the mine ahead of everyone else, touring the three levels with Shaw and Kruber. The bright replacement patches on the refrigeration trunking and the newness of the track which had been ripped up in the explosion were the only obvious signs of what had happened.
‘Photographers expecting a sensation are going to be disappointed,’ predicted Shaw.
‘Which is exactly what I want them to be,’ said Collington. ‘The message I want to get across is that everything is one hundred per cent no
rmal.’
He was at the shaft-head to meet them. He displayed the body-checking equipment that had been installed and said that the physical body searches were to be continued just as intensively, allowing himself an exaggeration. For ease of movement the journalists were split into three groups. Collington accompanied each group on the underground tour, posing for photographs whenever they were requested, and he finally confronted them all in the mess hut which had been set aside for the conference. He showed no trace of his anxiety to be away and aboard an aircraft to fly him to Europe. The conference lasted an hour, with three separate interviews in side rooms with television reporters.
‘I think it went well,’ said Wall, in the helicopter taking them back to Pretoria.
Collington agreed, but he said, ‘We’ll see from the coverage.’
‘Sure you don’t want me to come to Austria?’ asked Wall.
He would have welcomed the younger man’s support, thought Collington, realising how much he had come to rely upon him in recent weeks. He shook his head and said, ‘You’ll be more use here, as a liaison!’
‘Anything specific?’
Collington looked directly at his assistant. ‘Watch everything,’ he said.
Collington had packed before leaving Parkstown that morning and taken his luggage to the SAGOMI building. He had arranged the meeting with Metzinger for five and arrived fifteen minutes early, giving him the opportunity to check the world-wide prices in the SAGOMI and mining division shares in the tape-room. There had been a rise of two points in London, but elsewhere there was little movement. Nowhere had there been a drop.
‘How did the conference go?’ demanded Metzinger, as he entered Collington’s office.
‘Very well,’ said Collington positively, determined against giving the man any hope of recovering his money. ‘I’ve just checked the prices. We’re holding up well everywhere.’
‘I know,’ said Metzinger. There was no satisfaction in his voice.
‘I’m going to Austria tonight,’ announced Collington, purposely dramatic.
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