Gold

by Brian Freemantle

  Collington calculated that he needed two uncharted days and planned to get them with the precision of an army assault. He reckoned the analogy was appropriate: he was fighting a battle. What was it that Jamieson had said, after Metzinger had succeeded in getting Janet Simpson’s voting strength on to the Afrikaner side of the board? Something about a battle not being a war. This time it would be, Collington determined: this battle was going to be decisive for one of them.

  He recognised that Hannah was unwittingly a danger. He knew he could ask her to lie over his whereabouts, but she would obviously have demanded an explanation for the deceit and he wanted as much as possible to keep from her the impending confrontation between himself and her father. It was far kinder to remove her as a threat in another way: she’d actually enjoy it, he knew.

  ‘Why don’t you make a quick trip to England, to bring Paul back?’ he suggested on the Saturday night, at dinner.

  Her enthusiasm was immediate. ‘What a marvellous idea!’ she said.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Collington started on Sunday in the study of the Parkstown house and then rehearsed throughout Monday for the encounter with Metzinger, needing a situation the older man would regard as ideal but not wanting to make it too perfect and arouse his suspicion. Finally satisfied, he didn’t wait for one of Metzinger’s unscheduled visits. He summoned the deputy chairman and when Metzinger entered the office, Collington rose to meet him, the excitement obvious. ‘Hassan has agreed!’ announced Collington.

  For a moment there was no reaction from Metzinger. The look on his face was one of faint disbelief, a man not able to accept that everything he had hoped for was about to be realised. ‘When?’ he asked, curbing any over-enthusiasm.

  ‘A message this morning, from London.’

  ‘He’s actually signed a contract?’

  Collington shook his head. ‘But he’s indicated he’s ready to.’

  ‘When?’ said Metzinger again.

  ‘Saturday, in Zurich,’ lied Collington. The timing would have suited everything that Metzinger wanted. The negotiations would have been disclosed at the beginning of the week, creating embarrassment and producing government denials, and by mid-week the shares would have dipped, then risen, allowing him to recover his money before Friday’s annual meeting, at which he could have made his public disclosure and invited the shareholders’ reaction to Collington’s unapproved discussions.

  Metzinger was holding himself rigidly under control. He showed no response.

  ‘I’ll need to be able to promise something from the government here, once I’ve got Hassan’s written word,’ said Collington.

  ‘I’ll arrange it, the moment we’re sure he’s committed,’ promised Metzinger.

  It wouldn’t have been the sort of arrangement he would have expected, Collington knew. Hoping he wasn’t going too far, making the denouncement appear almost laughably easy for the man, Collington said: ‘Why don’t I telephone from Switzerland?’

  ‘That would be a good idea,’ agreed Metzinger.

  Collington stared across the desk, feeling a flicker of reluctant admiration for the man’s negotiating ability. Inwardly he must be euphoric, imagining everything unfolding exactly as he wanted it, but outwardly he remained impassive. It was time to move on, Collington thought, giving Metzinger the impression that he would have an unhindered week in which to finalise the coup.

  ‘Hannah is going to England to fetch Paul home for the long vacation,’ said Collington. ‘I’m going to take her to Johannesburg. I thought I’d stay over, because it’s so central, and inspect the mines from there on Wednesday and Thursday to bring us up to date on the repairs. I’ll go to Switzerland Thursday night.’

  ‘Seems sensible,’ said Metzinger.

  ‘I’m very hopeful of this,’ said Collington, enjoying the ambiguity.

  ‘It seems to have worked well,’ said Metzinger, and Collington wondered if he were enjoying the same personal amusement.

  ‘It should mean that we’re able to disclose the creation of an oil division at the annual meeting.’

  ‘That and the dividend declaration should make for a lot of contented shareholders,’ said Metzinger.

  Metzinger lied well, thought Collington. But then, so did he. And he had reluctantly to continue withholding the complete truth at the lunch with Richard Jenkins in the business club near the Union Buildings.

  ‘You want me to demand a board meeting for Friday?’ queried the man whom Collington considered the strongest director on the board.

  ‘Without giving a reason,’ emphasised Collington. ‘Just like Metzinger, when he announced the gold discovery.’

  ‘Is there a connection?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Jenkins sat waiting, his knife and fork poised in front of him. When Collington didn’t continue, Jenkins said, with characteristic bluntness, ‘Well, what the hell is it then?’

  ‘I don’t want to tell you, not yet.’

  Jenkins frowned, pushing the plate aside. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.

  ‘I have personally taken a very great risk,’ said Collington, regretting that he sounded conceited. ‘I don’t want to involve anyone else, not prematurely.’

  ‘You are involving me,’ said Jenkins.

  Collington shook his head.’ ‘There can’t be any embarrassment to you, simply summoning a meeting.’

  ‘There will be when I’m asked to give the reason for the meeting and I don’t know it.’

  ‘You won’t provide the reason,’ said Collington. ‘I will.’

  ‘Why don’t you summon the meeting?’

  ‘Because I won’t be here. Officially, anyway.’

  ‘So Metzinger will be in the chair?’

  ‘He’ll believe himself to be, until just before the meeting starts.’

  ‘This is nonsense,’ protested Jenkins.

  ‘I know it seems to be,’ apologised Collington. ‘But believe me, it’s not. It’ll become clear on Friday. Then you’ll see there’s a reason.’

  ‘There’d better be,’ said Jenkins, unimpressed with the assurance. ‘I like my affairs straight, not wrapped up in mumbo jumbo.’

  ‘After this they will be,’ said Collington, wondering even now if he were able to give that sort of assurance.

  ‘We’ve been associated for a long time,’ said Jenkins. ‘I know your integrity and I know you’ve never let me down yet. Not me. Nor the company. I’ll do what you ask, on this occasion, because of what’s happened between us in the past. But this isn’t the way I do business. I won’t expect this sort of request to be made of me in future.’

  ‘I don’t anticipate there’ll be the need, in the future,’ said Collington. He had expected Jenkins might object, but hardly with this vehemence. Bruce Jamieson would have been more easily persuaded. But Collington had purposely held back from involving his partner in the Zimbabwe mine. He wanted the board meeting demand to be a distraction, something by which Metzinger would be puzzled. If Jamieson had made the request, Metzinger might have guessed his involvement and been alerted to a counter manœuvre,

  ‘When Metzinger called his meeting, you held back from asking him the purpose because you considered it bad tactics,’ remembered Jenkins. ‘What do I say if the Afrikaners make a positive approach?’

  ‘Refuse it: you’ve every right.’

  ‘They’d have cause to seek a delay, if they genuinely thought you to be out of the country.’

  ‘Insist it goes to a boardroom vote,’ said Collington. ‘I just want them all in the same room on Friday morning.’

  ‘Never again,’ repeated Jenkins.

  ‘Never again,’ promised Collington. From the luncheon club he went back to the SAGOMI building. He gave instructions that he was not to be disturbed and then locked his doors against any chance intrusion. Collington was not a good typist and it took him a long time to complete an unspoiled foolscap page, referenced against the one he had received from Knoetze, agreeing the terms of the Arab�
�s letter of intent and confirming payment in gold. Once that was in Hassan’s possession, Collington knew he was safe from any boardroom or shareholders’ accusations that he had been involved in unauthorised negotiations and therefore behaved in such a way as to earn a censure vote.

  Two days, he thought: it was going to seem a long time.

  He left the office early, warning his personal staff that he would not be available for the next three days, and drove home to Parkstown. Hannah was already packed, excited at the thought of a reunion with Paul sooner than she had expected. Because of the journey she was undertaking the following day, they went to bed early. They made love, comfortably relaxed, each wanting to please the other. When she felt him quicken, she pushed her hands gently against his chest, slowing him down; she raised her head to kiss him, taking over the pace. They burst together, driving against each other to prolong it, and finally he rolled wetly on to his side.

  ‘Even when you told me about the other woman, I couldn’t stop loving you,’ she said, still breathless, in the darkness. ‘I don’t think there’s anything that would ever make me do that.’

  Would that remain true, when she discovered what he had done to overthrow her father? he wondered.

  Collington had made Hannah’s reservation on an early flight, for his convenience more than hers. Ironically, it was to touch down in Zurich on its way to London, but he stood patiently behind the barrier, waving her off, before going to the ticket desk and collecting his own documents for the flight two hours later. He bought newspapers and a paperback book from the kiosk, but found it impossible to concentrate, either in the departure lounge or even once he was aboard the aircraft.

  From his window seat he attempted to see the private section and the SAGOMI plane upon which he normally made overseas flights, but his view was obstructed. Metzinger would undoubtedly check upon any flight plans for the aircraft and be reassured when he learned it was being readied for a Thursday flight; there was no way he could learn that it would be taking gold to Zurich, for a deal by then concluded.

  Collington tried to sleep, but found that as impossible as his attempts to read. To occupy the time he started to watch the inflight movie, but the earphones hurt his ears, so he abandoned that too, and sat in the semi-darkened plane watching the silent, unintelligible behaviour of the actors on the miniscule screen. They staged at Lusaka and Cairo and Collington, who was unused to so many stops, found the journey interminable.

  It was late when he got to Zurich and as soon as he had checked into the Baur au Lac, he telephoned the Prince’s floor to confirm his arrival and their meeting for the following day. He had whisky delivered, but discovered that he didn’t want alcohol any more than he did food. Collington was an accomplished traveller, untroubled by climate or time changes, but tonight was an exception. He was tired from the flight, which was unusual, but he couldn’t get to sleep. He dozed fitfully, always on a level of half-awake consciousness, his mind drifting from dreams to reality as he tried even at this late stage to isolate any flaws in what he was trying to do. He decided against breakfast, even coffee, using a toothbrush glass to drink water from the tap and hurrying to the lift that was to take him up to the Prince’s quarters.

  By now Collington was accustomed to the pomp of entire floor reservations and the appearance of a bedouin tribe, occupying the rooms. For this occasion Hassan had reverted to tradition and robes. His greeting was firm-handed and once again accompanied by several declarations of friendship.

  Collington showed Hassan the South African government’s letter upon which his was based, not letting the man consider them at the same time in case he became aware of the duplicate reference numbers providing the protecting link.

  Hassan identified the Swiss Banking Corporation in the Paradeplatz as the place to which he wanted his initial commission sent, producing the authority of the numbered account unmarked and obviously opened within the previous few days.

  The Arab offered his hand again and Collington took it. Hassan said, ‘We have an agreement. Let’s hope we both profit.’

  It was time to complete the jigsaw puzzle, Collington decided. ‘Despite the effort of those who sought to make it fail,’ he said.

  ‘Sought to make it fail?’

  ‘The South African government has confirmed the association between the United States Treasury Secretary’s warning to you and the attacks upon my mines,’ exaggerated Collington. ‘The American arrested at Johannesburg made a full statement saying they intended to keep you in line.’

  ‘Keep me in line!’ Hassan’s outrage was immediate, his eyes flaring with anger.

  ‘I meant no disrespect,’ said Collington, appearing confused. ‘I was using the wording the American employed to describe the operation.’

  ‘Is this going to be made public?’ said Hassan, the apprehension immediate at the possibility of fresh humiliation after the silver debacle.

  Collington shook his head reassuringly. ‘The men in the bordering countries weren’t apparently told why they were devising the attacks. Only the man in Pretoria knew that. Quite clearly South Africa will do nothing to impair the agreement we’ve reached. The man will be tried in camera, with no details of the evidence.’

  The Arab’s tension seemed to diminish. ‘Keep me in line,’ he repeated. ‘The impudence of it; the incredible impudence!’

  ‘They appeared to regard your country practically as a satellite state,’ said Collington, stoking the fury. ‘The man’s statement talks of the ease of manipulating members of your government,’

  Hassan’s nostrils were opening and closing as if he were having difficulty in breathing. ‘This was all written down?’

  ‘That. And a lot more,’ said Collington. ‘But I am assured it will never be disclosed publicly.’

  ‘Will it be read out in court?’

  ‘Presumably,’ said Collington.

  ‘Then some people will know: there could be rumours.’

  ‘I’ve been asked to assure you of the complete discretion of everyone involved: having established these contacts, we’re anxious to remain friends.’

  ‘America described itself as our friend.’

  ‘I think it is for you to judge, from recent behaviour, who are true and who are false friends.’

  ‘And for others to discover also,’ said Hassan vehemently. ‘When can you arrange the transfer of the commission payment?’

  ‘Immediately,’ said Collington. ‘I have the government’s guarantee: you’ve seen it yourself. It will be lodged in Switzerland by Thursday.’

  ‘You’re returning immediately?’

  ‘Tonight,’ said Collington.

  Hassan straightened in his seat, a man who had made a decision. ‘We will continue contact through the embassy in London,’ he decided. ‘I will expect to be kept fully informed of the company developments: my government won’t move until we are completely satisfied with the progress.’

  ‘I fully understand that,’ said Collington.

  Hassan stood, Collington rising with him. ‘I have enjoyed our negotiations,’ said the Arab. ‘I think they have been honourable.’

  ‘And they will continue to be so,’ said Collington. Unless Metzinger discovers what’s happening, he thought.

  ‘He’s given us the rope to hang him!’ insisted Metzinger.

  ‘It would seem so,’ agreed Wassenaar, still showing faint reluctance.

  ‘Because he thinks I’m in negotiation with the government, he’s going to call me from Switzerland,’ said Metzinger. ‘We’ll be able to plant the stories while he’s on his way back and within a couple of days have a full-scale share wobble on our hands. It’s all a foregone conclusion.’

  ‘It almost seems too good,’ said Wassenaar.

  ‘Have you placed the purchase orders for Janet and myself?’

  ‘I promised I’d do so,’ reminded the company lawyer.

  ‘What are you going to do, personally?’

  Wassenaar didn’t reply at once, his
indecision obvious. ‘It was a lot of money to lose, the first time,’ he said.

  ‘How many more times do I have to show you the way to get it all back?’

  ‘No more,’ said Wassenaar positively.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Three days after the crisis broke, a snap poll questioning the leadership qualities of John Pemberton showed a drop of five per cent. South Africa increased the pressure on Washington, withdrawing its ambassador and refusing to deny newspaper speculation that serious consideration was being given in Pretoria to the question of breaking off diplomatic relations completely.

  The government of Zimbabwe hesitated, calculating the extent of American aid following independence, then decided their position was strong enough – because of their chrome upon which the United States was so dependent – and issued a statement that they, too, were reviewing their continued relationship. Moscow fully utilised the situation. The Soviet government took up a long-neglected invitation for their President to make an official visit to Mozambique, to re-affirm friendship not just with the Maputo government but throughout the African continent. The Soviet ambassador in Luanda worked frantically in response to instructions from the Kremlin and succeeded in getting the Angolan government to issue a similar invitation to a Russian delegation. The Soviet response was immediate. The announcement that the Russian President would go direct from Mozambique to Angola politically elevated the visit to a triumphal procession.

  The dollar tottered. Its first slump was against the stronger currencies, like the German mark and the Japanese yen. Because of the political nature of the crisis, the central banks were reluctant to come in with immediate support. The sag continued against the English pound and then the peripheral currencies, creating an unacceptable comparison with the collapsing confidence in the American administration.

  The international developments were sufficiently worrying by themselves. Then the crisis began to grow internally. A hostile congress, which had waited a year for the opportunity to criticise the President, opened a censure debate and the pressure grew for a committee of enquiry to determine whether there were grounds for an impeachment against Pemberton.