Cuthbert Maguire
Richard de Villiers tried to bring up his daughters as ordinary young people and achieved success with one and failure with the other. Petra buried her head in books, mixed with ordinary people and participated in student activities. Anna sought excitement, mixed with the ultra-rich and participated in their lavish lifestyle.
Anna knew all about luxury yachts and the sort of things that went on in them. Petra’s experience of boats was limited to marine research vessels and sailing boats. She expected Cuthbert’s yacht to have sails and was taken by surprise when she saw it. The impressive vessel, anchored offshore, had neither masts nor sails and was more like a cruise ship than anything she had imagined.
It was reached by boats that ferried guests out to a floating wharf. Uncle Henry had arranged for the five members of his party to go out together. He was with Carla and her mother. Petra joined them and they waited for Anna.
As usual, her sister was late. Henry took it in his stride. Carla fumed and made derogatory remarks about her cousin. Henry told her to calm down and do nothing that could create a scene when Anna arrived.
Petra saw her in the distance. Anna was dressed in one of her outlandish costumes and had Constantia with her. The cheetah was on a lead and Anna was striding behind it. The pair was causing a lot of excitement. Children were running alongside and their parents were taking photographs.
Anna stopped and posed for pictures. Petra expected Henry to tell her to leave the cheetah on shore. To her surprise, he fussed over Constantia and helped Anna load her into the boat that would take them out to Cuthbert’s yacht.
The reason for his enthusiasm for the big cat soon became apparent. Constantia was part of the de Villiers’ team. A rapturous welcome awaited her. Faces peered down from the yacht as she leapt onto the floating wharf followed by Anna. Cheers rang out and cameras flashed as they advanced up the gangway.
‘Anna! Darling!’
A woman in her thirties swept forward to meet them.
‘I knew you wouldn’t let us down ...’
Petra guessed that the extravagantly dressed person was Cuthbert’s latest wife. The lady’s beautiful face was Chinese and her voice was American with a hint of something else. Long dark hair hung loosely down her back and a slit in her skirt revealed a shapely leg.
Cuthbert stood by her side in a white suit. Petra recognised him from his many photographs. The media tycoon was in his mid-eighties and had the shrivelled face and wizened body that often comes from costly and unsuccessful battles to remain young.
Mario said he had his sperm stored in a sperm bank when he was still young enough to have sperm to store. That had enabled him to sire a succession of children by a succession of wives on four continents. All eleven were boys. That had raised questions about what might have happened to any girls that were conceived.
The older of Cuthbert’s brood were helping him run his gigantic empire on their respective continents. Mario said that was the sort of thing the sons of emperors did in the past.
‘Bring Colin!’ Cuthbert croaked.
Petra guessed that Colin was the latest of Cuthbert’s brood. Servants scuttled away and returned with a little boy. He wore a sailor suit and had blond hair and narrow eyes. Petra wondered what the future had in store for Colin.
Cuthbert pointed to Constantia.
‘Look. Colin. Big pussy cat.’
Colin seemed more cautious than excited.
‘Stroke pussy, Colin!’
Cuthbert barked an order and the little boy drew back. Petra could feel his agony. The child was cautious. He had the primeval instincts of all small creatures when faced by danger. His father was trying to override them.
Cuthbert was a monster. Her instincts told her to intervene. Good sense told her to hang back. She watched as the obscene drama unfolded.
‘Stroke pussy!’
The child’s mother joined in and a tiny hand reached out. Constantia remained calm as Colin swept a frightened hand over her fur. That wasn’t guaranteed. Cheetahs are temperamental. The big cat could have bitten the kid’s hand off.
Evidently satisfied by his son’s obedience, Cuthbert turned his attention to Anna. His body swivelled around and he inclined his head.
‘You look more beautiful than ever, my dear.’
Anna kissed the cheek that was offered to her and stepped back as Cuthbert’s attention turned to Petra.
‘Miss de Villiers. I am delighted to meet you.’
To Petra’s relief, he straightened his body and extended a hand. She shook it and stepped back, relieved that the encounter was over. Carla followed. She offered a cheek and received a hand. The look on her face told all.
Henry ushered them along. When you visited royalty you didn’t hang around. Rules had to be followed and the de Villiers weren’t immune from them. Despite their billions, they had to toe the line.
Petra saw Mario. He was standing with his parents. Something told her that the encounter had been arranged. Henry touched her arm.
‘Senora Mendez-Klein wants to speak to you.’
Mario’s mother sat severely on a chair.
‘Ah, Petra!’
She eyed her like a cat surveys a mouse.
‘We are so pleased you could come.’
Petra did her best to be agreeable.
‘I am so pleased to meet you again.’
A chair was pushed in her direction.
‘Please sit down.’
It sounded more like an order than a request. Petra sat down and adjusted the hem of her skirt. Henry moved to the side and his place was taken by an assortment of people. Petra recognised a prominent politician and a trade union official amongst them.
The interrogation started immediately.
‘Your father called me a fascist, Ms de Villiers.’
The trade union man waded in. The white supremacist regime locked him up as a communist then let him out when the mining companies weighed in on his behalf. Joshua Botwama was their sort of man. He knew how to organise labour.
‘My father thought your relationship with the employer groups was too close,’ Petra said quietly.
‘And you agree …’
‘Certainly not!’
She knew she sounded like an old-fashioned schoolmarm when she used that voice. Her fellow students had made fun of her. Petra didn’t care. It was the sort of image she wanted to convey.
Joshua put on his famous grin.
‘You think I’m okay?’
‘I approve of the position you have adopted,’ Petra said stiffly. ‘The efficient exploitation of the nation’s resources can only proceed smoothly if there is an intelligent cooperation between the capital components of production and the labour inputs needed to achieve optimum benefit for the nation as a whole.’
She recited a paragraph from one of the big mining company’s annual reports. Her father had poured scorn on it.
Mario’s mother eyed her critically.
‘You father … he no like what you say.’
‘We hold different opinions.’
‘You no love him?’
Petra stiffened. ‘Of course I do.’
‘But you say everything he say is bad.’
‘Love comes from the heart, Senora.’
‘What that mean?’
‘He is my father!’
Petra fastened her eyes on the older woman. She had been taught to do that as a trainee lawyer at university. It had seemed so artificial at the time. Now, she realised how powerful the technique could be.
‘You no agree with his crazy ideas?’
‘My father was an idealist, Senora.’
‘He lived in Toy Town,’ Henry cut in.
‘That is a little harsh, Uncle.’
‘But not far from the truth?’
‘I prefer to think of him as an idealist,’ Petra said. ‘His motives were sincere but they lacked realism. The world is not run by people in debating societies. It doesn’t work like that. Tough decisions have to be made and none would succeed if they were put to a vote.’
‘Are you saying that democracy doesn’t work?’
The question came from Cuthbert. He had left his wife and child and was staring at Petra with penetrating eyes.
‘It works if the people receive proper guidance.’
‘From whom? Miss de Villiers?’
‘People like you, Mr Maguire. The masses are ill-informed. They vote for whoever bribes them with the most favours. They mortgage their children’s futures for short-term gain. The social democracies are doomed to failure when the vote of a useless, parasitical person is worth the same as that of a hardworking productive citizen.’
Cuthbert nodded approvingly. Petra wasn’t surprised. She was quoting from an editorial in one of his leading newspapers.
‘Why did he call me a fascist?’ the union man asked. ‘Most people called me a communist.’
‘My father likened the arrangement between unionists, such as yourself, and the mining companies to that achieved by the Italian fascist dictator, Mussolini. He argued that it concentrated power in too few hands.’
‘And you agree?’
‘With what?’
‘That I am a fascist.’
‘Mussolini had some bad ideas but not all of them were bad.’ Petra glanced around the circle of faces. ‘The same can be said for Adolf Hitler. He was an appalling racist. That was his big mistake. Hitler thought he could create a race of blond Nordic supermen. His breeding programs were confined to one small ancestral pool. They could have achieved far more if they had exploited the rich genetic diversity provided by human populations that have been separated for tens of thousands of years ...’
‘Great White!’
Cries interrupted her discourse.
‘Look! It’s got one of the seals.’
‘Wow! That’s just so awesome.’
‘Quick. Get my camera.’
Petra ceased to be the centre of attention. She glanced around as her audience rose and hurried to the rear of the boat. For a moment she felt lost then Mario tapped her arm.
‘You were overdoing it a bit there.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That talk about Hitler’s breeding programs.’
‘Cuthbert loved it.’ Petra squeezed Mario’s hand. ‘He’s doing the same. He’s had four wives and none of them are of the same race.’
‘Your father married someone of a different race.’
‘My father loved my mother, Mario. That’s the difference. Cuthbert has never loved anyone except himself. You should hear what his first wife had to say about him.’
‘You know a lot about Mr Maguire.’
‘I’m studying politics, Mario. I intend to enter it one day. This country hasn’t changed since the days when the white supremacists were in power. The rich-poor divide is as bad as ever. It’s no longer based on race. That’s the only difference.’
‘You believe in communism?’
‘Certainly not. That’s fascism by another name.’
‘Wow! Awesome! Oh My God!’
The shouting grew louder. Mario took Petra’s arm. ‘Come and see what’s happening back there.’
Petra followed him to the rear of the boat. People were leaning over the rail, craning their necks to get a better view. She couldn’t see what the excitement was about. All she knew was that the sea was red with blood.
‘They attracted the seals by throwing baitfish into the water,’ Mario explained. ‘That’s what the tour boats do to entertain their passengers. Cuthbert goes one better. He sets a blood trail so that the sharks will come in and take the seals.’
‘That’s just awful!’
Petra threw up her hands in horror.
‘Law of the Sea, darling.’
A low voice whispered in her ear.
‘What was that?’
Petra turned and saw her cousin Carla.
‘It’s the same as the Law of the Jungle.’
Carla leant forward and smiled.
‘Kill or be killed, darling.’