Flamingo
The Bentley was fitted with new tires and polished to perfection. The interior leather smelt as it had when she was a child. Petra sat in the rear and watched the countryside drift by. She was dressed in a neat business suit of the sort favoured by up-and-coming executive ladies. Her hair was neatly trimmed and she wore just enough lipstick to complement her light-brown complexion. The blotches had gone from her cheeks. Petra was steeled for action. Richard was undoubtedly dead. Her father had died for a cause and she was going to continue his work and find his killers.
Sipho sat in the front seat beside the driver. He wore an expensive business suit of the sort worn by the private secretaries of senior lady executives. The driver wore a uniform bearing the de Villiers insignia. He usually drove around in jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with Richard’s latest slogans on saving the planet. Petra had done her best to get him to adopt a serious demeanour and avoid singing on duty. She had no such problems with Sipho. His demeanour was stuck on serious and he only sang when the occasion demanded.
The outer perimeter fence of the Flamingo Resort came into view. Petra noticed that it had greatly expanded since her last visit, over ten years ago. It now took in a vast area of rugged hillside and manicured parkland. A gatehouse straddled the road. She was reminded of visits to England and France. Old baronial mansions had similar buildings. This one looked oddly out-of-place at the southernmost tip of Africa.
They had reached Cape Agulhas. Its name means “Cape of the Needle”. The famous Portuguese navigator, Bartolomeu Dias, gave it that name when he sailed past in 1488. A few days earlier he had rounded the cape that sticks down from Table Mountain. He figured that he had reached the tip of Africa and had passed from the Atlantic to the Indian Ocean.
In so doing, Dias opened up a sea route for his countrymen to sail to the lucrative spice islands of the Far East. He named the first cape “Cape of Good Hope”. A few days later, he identified a second cape further to the south. His compass needle pointed due north when he got there and he named it “Cape Agulhas”.
Petra had studied the history of South Africa as part of her university course. The earliest homo sapiens remains had been excavated in a cave near to where she was now. There were other people there before them and they had been displaced. It was the story of the world. Modern human beings displaced their distant cousins. They did so in Africa and they continued to do so when they left Africa. When they reached Europe they displaced the Neanderthals.
But they didn’t stay in Europe. Thousands of years later some of them returned. By then, their appearance had changed to adapt to the cold conditions of the north. They had white skins and were scarcely recognisable as the descendants of people who had left Africa. They conquered the lands of their African cousins and lorded over them as if they belonged to a superior species.
It occurred to Petra that lording over others was a deep-seated human vice. People now recognised that they belonged to the same species. That didn’t stop them from behaving as if some were far superior to others.
Race was no longer a dividing line amongst the ruling classes. They came in all colours and women were now accepted into the elite circle of tyrants and demigods who manipulated others for their own selfish ends. She was about to enter their esteemed circle. Some of its members were already known to her. Petra braced herself to meet the rest.
The dive boat flew the South African flag. The boat that raced towards them didn’t. Its flag was a flamingo on a dark-blue background. The occupants of the boat wore military uniforms and were armed with automatic weapons. David was reminded of a trip to Guantanamo Bay. The American flag flew there and there was nothing to give any hint that the bay was on the island of Cuba.
The owners of the resort were behaving in just the same way. It was as if they had annexed a slice of the Republic of South Africa and were treating it as a private realm. Frank stood beside David at the controls of the catamaran and brought the boat to a halt.
They had entered the territorial waters of Club Flamingo. Like its land frontiers, its seas were jealously guarded. Trespassers were met with an armed response. Frank raised a hand in salute and the boat kept coming towards them. David braced himself for a collision. Then, at the last moment, the high-powered vessel went into a sharp turn and dumped a pile of spray on the deck of the dive boat, soaking its occupants.
‘Welcome to the Flamingo!’
Frank shouted into his microphone. There was a muffled silence followed by laughter. The young passengers thought it was a huge joke, created for their enjoyment. In a way it was. Frank was transporting a bunch of rich kids to the resort. Their parents had made the trip by road or air. Their offspring had opted for a more adventurous journey.
David watched as they chattered excitedly. The going language was English. They spoke it with a variety of accents and used the latest buzz words. As a teenager, he had offended his mother by using cool to mean exciting. Now sick had replaced cool. The potentially dangerous incident was sick and they loved it.
They came in all shapes, sizes and colours. The kids had no sense of race or nationality. That meshed with David’s attitude towards people but stopped there. He accepted others for what they were. The obscene brats looked down on anyone less privileged than themselves.
Frank re-engaged the engines and took the catamaran into shore. An impressive harbour had been carved out of a rocky foreshore and the usual bunch of harbour seals had made it their home. They milled around the boat as it tied up, swimming on their backs and honking loudly. The crew produced buckets of fish and the kids amused themselves feeding the furry animals.
‘They don’t know how lucky they are …’
‘The seals or the kids?’ David asked.
‘Both,’ Frank grinned.
‘You mean they don’t have to work for a living?’
‘More than that. They enjoy the protection of Club Flamingo. There’s a vicious world out there. Seals get eaten by Great Whites. Rich kids get kidnapped and held for ransom.’
‘It’s not all fun being rich?’
‘No, David. Don’t think of everyone at the Flamingo as crooked. There’s a lot of very good people here. Very few will be involved in Richard’s death. Your job is to hunt them down.’
The apartment was small and tastefully furnished. Petra had chosen one in a row of four, set amongst trees and overlooking the boat harbour. A lot had changed since her last visit when her grandfather was still alive. The resort was much smaller then and the atmosphere far more relaxed. People arrived in cars and their staff hung around. Helicopters were now the preferred form of transport and staff were assigned to quarters outside the main resort. Petra guessed that Anna’s Brazilians and Uncle Henry’s Columbians were there together with others of their kind. That was the good news. The bad news was that Sipho and David would be with them.
The phone rang. She picked it up, expecting to hear Sipho’s mellow voice speaking Xhosa. Instead she heard Uncle Henry speaking Afrikaans. It was his preferred language when he wanted to dominate others and tell them what to do. Her grandfather often spoke Afrikaans. It was the language of the original Dutch settlers and the de Villiers had spoken it as their first language for generations. Grandfather spoke it softly and never shouted.
‘Carla told me you had arrived.’
Henry bellowed down the phone before she could speak.
‘With whom am I speaking?’
‘You didn’t tell me you were here.’
‘Uncle Henry?’ Petra remained calm. ‘Is that you?’
‘You know who I am and I expect you to inform me of your movements. As the senior member of the de Villiers family I am responsible for our good name.’
‘I assumed that you knew I was coming, Uncle. As you know, I am now responsible for the interests and proper functioning of the de Villiers Foundation. In that respect I share your responsibilities for the good name of our family.’
‘What do you know about responsibilities?’
‘As you are aware, Uncle, I am enrolled in studies for a degree in law. I am now in my fourth year and I shall graduate at the end of the coming semester. I have twice received the de Klerk medal, which is awarded to the student with the overall highest grades in constitutional law and international law. That has resulted in offers of employment from leading law firms in this country and overseas. I believe I am justified in claiming a certain degree of competence in matters pertaining to family trusts.’
Petra spoke in English and used the steady, unhurried lawyers’ language she had learnt at university. She expected it to infuriate Henry. To her surprise, he moderated his tone.
‘Your father never attended meetings at the Flamingo.’
‘Then there is all the more reason why I should.’
‘I was told you shared his views.’
‘You were misinformed, Uncle.’
A silence followed. Petra could almost hear Henry thinking. Finally, he spoke.
‘Your sister, Anna, and my daughter, Carla, have developed a rivalry for the affections of the young man, Mario, who you met the other night. You will have witnessed their outbursts against one another.’
Petra could scarcely believe her ears. Henry had switched to English and was speaking to her as if she was an equal.
‘Mario is the son of Carmel and Daniel Mendez-Klein,’ Henry continued. ‘He is their only child and heir to a considerable fortune. The advantages of a marriage alliance are considerable for both families.’
‘I had gathered that, Uncle.’
‘Their chances are zero,’ Henry announced with surprising frankness. ‘Mario has nothing in common with them. He is a serious-minded young man … more your type. I saw you talking. He was far more relaxed with you.’
‘Are you trying to play cupid, Uncle?’
Petra allowed herself a playful laugh.
‘I am thinking of your future.’
‘I appreciate your advice.’
‘We must keep them apart,’ Henry drifted back into Afrikaans. ‘A scene would create an appalling impression. Cuthbert Maguire is here. We will be meeting him tonight.’
‘Really …’
‘You, of course, know who he is …’
‘I know who he is. I didn’t expect to be meeting him.’
‘His yacht is moored in the bay. It arrived yesterday. Cuthbert flew in today. He’ll spend a few days sailing then fly on to wherever he is going next.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Keep that sister of yours under control and be nice to Mario. Guard your tongue and keep your ears open. Charm Cuthbert with small talk and impress Mario’s parents with your good sense.’
Henry ended the call as abruptly as it had begun. Petra put the phone down and tried to gather her thoughts. Nothing was happening as she had imagined. Henry was behaving like a devoted uncle. Her instincts told her not to trust him. Her father hadn’t and she wasn’t going to either.