Retribution
David sat on the stone steps and looked out over the rolling hills. It was autumn and the grass had turned to a golden yellow. Here and there, patches of bracken cut across the landscape. He was reminded of other highly-populated highland areas he had visited. There was a distinct shortage of trees in all of them. Trees rarely survived when people moved in with their cattle and horses.
They were staying in a lodge behind a general store. The lodge was a recent attempt by the owners to branch into tourism. Sipho knew their son. He was at university with him in Cape Town on a scholarship provided by the de Villiers Foundation.
They turned up unannounced, three days ago, and were warmly welcomed. Sipho had to introduce himself. Petra was recognised at once. There was a photograph of her on the living room wall, posing with her father and scholarship holders, including Sipho and the couple’s son.
Not surprisingly, the conversation soon got around to Richard de Villiers’ disappearance. To David’s relief, everyone spoke in English. Their hosts were Winston and Elizabeth. They were born when Lesotho was called Basutoland and under British rule. White supremacists were in power, over the border, in South Africa and their parents had evidently been keen to stress the British connection.
David explained that Petra was in danger and their presence must be kept secret. To his relief, he had no difficulty getting that point across. Richard de Villiers disappearance had raised a lot of suspicions in the highlands. People had radios and listened to news broadcasts. They formed their own opinions on what was happening.
Elizabeth produced a straw hat and a brightly coloured blanket for Petra. Many people wore blankets over their shoulders like cloaks. The combination helped her blend in and she no longer stood out when she went on walks.
Sipho wore a blanket when he went out and could easily pass as one the locals until he opened his mouth. He knew no more than a few words of Basuto and spoke English with such a refined voice that no one would think he belonged.
David could hear him with Petra and Mario. They had come back from a walk and were talking about the farmers in the fields. They were practising a primitive form of agriculture by South African standards. There were no mechanical harvesters, which wasn’t surprising since the fields were minute.
They were carved into the steep hillside. One side rose up and the other fell away. The bit in the middle was flat enough to grow corn. The crop was now ready for harvest. Old men were cutting it with sickles and young women were tying it into sheafs.
David had seen photographs of people using sickles in Europe. That was back in the days before his grandfather was born. No one used sickles there anymore and no one farmed such small fields.
Sipho arrived by his side.
‘They are gathering in the harvest.’
‘Yes,’ David nodded.
‘It is a very laborious process.’
‘You can say that again …’
‘The next step is to let the corn ripen in the sun.’
‘How long does that take?’
‘A few weeks depending on the weather.’
‘Then what happens?’
‘When it is judged to be ready, the sheaves will be brought out onto the thrashing ground and beaten with flails to release the grain. The straw will then be removed and the grain will be thrown into the air so that the chaff is blown away by the wind.’
Petra and Mario arrived by Sipho’s side and added their views to what was going on. They saw it in sociological terms. To David, beating corn with flails and blowing chaff away with the wind was what you did when you didn’t have an alternative.
‘They are victims of the system,’ Mario said.
‘My Uncle Henry says they’re lazy,’ Petra added.
‘There’s nothing lazy about them.’
‘Nothing,’ Petra agreed.
‘They are not lazy and their young men are not lazy. That is why they are employed in the mines. Most of the labour comes from outside South Africa.’
‘That’s because they don’t have the same protection as South African citizens,’ Petra said. ‘They are poorly paid and send most of their money out of the country to support their families. They are treated as badly as the slaves who were taken to America to work on the plantations.’
‘Worse,’ Mario insisted. ‘The slave owners looked after their slaves. They were part of their property … a capital investment. Foreign labourers are not. There are plenty more where they come from. Their families aren’t even compensated if they are killed or injured in an accident.’
‘My father always made sure that widows and children were properly looked after.’
‘Yes. But your father was an exception. You should see how my family treat their workers in South America. That would make your hair stand on end.’
‘Not all mining companies are like that,’ Petra tapped Mario’s arm. ‘Miners are amongst the most highly paid workers in some countries. Mining towns in Australia and Canada record the highest average incomes of any municipality. You should look at the statistics their tax offices provide.’
‘I’m not talking about Canada and Australia …’
David had spent hours listening to them. At first, he thought they were falling out. Then he realised it was the way students get to know one another. They called it debating. Other people called it arguing.
He looked at his watch. It would soon be news time. They always listened to the national broadcasts from Durban and Johannesburg. There wasn’t much else to do. They were in limbo until Kate arrived to fly them out.
The weather forecast came on first. It was for the coastal areas and had no bearing on the Lesotho highlands. Then the news bulletin began. Yet another member of a prominent South African family had been killed. David heard the name de Villiers and turned up the volume. Mario and Petra hurried to his side.
‘Another tragedy has struck the famous mining family …’
Listeners were reminded of the mysterious disappearance of Richard de Villiers whose plane vanished in mid-Atlantic. David waited to hear that his daughter, Anna, had been taken by a shark. Instead, he heard the name of Uncle Henry.
The second of the famous de Villiers brothers had died in an accident. Henry de Villiers was driving along the coastal road from his home in Cape Town when he lost control. His wife and daughter were in the car at the time. Friends travelling in a car behind Mr de Villiers witnessed the accident.
Mrs Carmel Mendez-Klein said that the car failed to negotiate a bend and passed through a break in the crash barrier. The road runs along a cliff at that point and is a notorious accident black spot. Mr de Villiers was declared dead upon arrival in hospital together with his wife and daughter Carla.
David turned off the radio.
‘What’s going on?’
Mario looked stunned.
‘Law of the Jungle!’
‘What?’
‘Don’t you remember? That’s what Carla said in one of those recordings that Sipho made. She was talking to her mother. Carla said they would have to kill Petra and Anna. We didn’t take any notice because that was the screwy way she spoke.’
‘But she did mean it.’
‘Yes. And she paid the price.’
‘What do you mean?’ Petra said.
‘She was taken out,’ Mario said. ‘Believe me. I know these people. I know how their minds work. I was brought up with them. They’re like a pack of wolves.’
‘What people, Mario?’
‘The Cabal. My parents, Cuthbert Maguire and the rest of them. They don’t just kill outsiders. They kill one another if they break the rules. Carla and her mother tried to kill you and Anna … that’s breaking the rules. Carla would have broken down under questioning. They would have found out what happened.
‘You think they were murdered?’
‘They had a death sentence passed on them, Petra. You can bet your life that Olaf Magnusson tampered with their car so that it could be steered by remote control. He would have been following in the second car with my mother.’
Mario turned to David.
‘Olaf killed a crooked attorney that way. He modified his car then drove it into a lake and drowned him. The Cabal found out and blackmailed Olaf. I worked that out years ago. Now Olaf is their number-one hit man and my mother is his minder.’
‘My people know about the attorney,’ David said. ‘They think Olaf did the same to Richard’s plane.’
‘They think Olaf took it over by remote control?’
‘Yes. And they want to speak to you. A plane is coming to get us out. I know the pilot. She’s very good. There are lots of places around here where she could land.’