Page 87 of Rage


  Matatu’s whole body wriggled with pleasure. ‘Bleddy stupid bugger,’ he agreed proudly. He knew that this was the highest accolade to which he could possibly aspire, uttered as it was by the god-head of his entire firmament.

  While Shasa was still packing his books and paintings for the journey to London, Garry and Holly moved into Weltevreden.

  ‘I’ll be over there for at least three years,’ Shasa said. ‘And when I come back we can talk again, but I shall probably get myself a flat in town. On my own the old place is just too big for me.’

  Holly was pregnant, and prevailed on Centaine to stay on to help her ‘just until the baby is born’.

  ‘Holly is the only woman that Mater can stand within half a mile of her on a permanent basis,’ Shasa remarked to Garry as the two ladies of Weltevreden began planning the redecoration of the nursery wing together.

  Isabella’s love affair with Lothar De La Rey survived in stormy seas and wild winds during the months of the enquiry into the death of Moses Gama.

  The commission of inquiry exonerated Brigadier Lothar De La Rey with a verdict of ‘No Guilt’. The local English-language as well as the international press jeered cynically at this verdict and an emergency meeting of the General Assembly of the United Nations passed a resolution calling for comprehensive mandatory sanctions on South Africa, which was predictably vetoed in the Security Council. However, amongst his own people, Lothar’s reputation was greatly enhanced and the Afrikaans press lauded him as its chosen hero.

  Not a week after the commission made its findings public, Isabella woke in the bedroom of her luxurious Sandton flat to find Lothar already fully dressed, standing over the bed and watching her with an expression of such deep regret that she sat up quickly, fully awake, and let the pink satin sheets fall to her waist.

  ‘What is it, Lothie?’ she cried. ‘Why are you leaving so early? Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘There will be a by-election in the Doomberg constituency. It’s one of our safe seats. The party organizers have offered it to me, and I have accepted. I’m resigning my police commission and going into politics.’

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful,’ Isabella cried, and reached out to him with both arms. ‘I was reared on politics. We will make a great team, Lothie. I’ll be an amazing help to you — you’ll see!’

  Lothar lifted his eyes from her naked breasts, but made no move to touch her, and she let her arms drop.

  ‘What is it?’ Her expression changed.

  ‘I’m going back to my own people, Bella,’ he said quietly. ‘Back to my Volk and my God. I know what I want. I want one day to succeed where my father failed. I want the position he almost achieved, but I need a wife who is one of my own people. A good Afrikaner girl. I have already chosen her. I am going to her now. So we must say goodbye, Bella. Thank you. I will never forget you, but it is over now.’

  ‘Get out,’ she said. ‘Get out – and don’t come back.’

  He hesitated and her voice rose to a scream, ‘Get out, you bastard. Get out!’

  He went to the bedroom door and closed it softly behind him, and Isabella snatched the water jug from the bedside table and hurled it at the door. It shattered and she threw herself face down on the bed and began to weep.

  She cried all that day, and at nightfall went into the bathroom and filled the bath with hot water. Lothar had left a packet of razor blades on the shelf next to her douche bag, and she unwrapped one of them slowly and held it up in front of her eyes. It looked terrifyingly evil, and the light glinted on the edge, but she lowered it until it touched the skin of her wrist. It stung like a scorpion and she jerked her wrist away.

  ‘No, Lothar De La Rey, I won’t give you the satisfaction,’ she said angrily, and dropped the blade into the toilet bowl and went back into the bedroom. She picked up the phone.

  When she heard her father’s voice, Isabella trembled with the shock of what she had almost done.

  ‘I want to come home, Daddy,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’ll send the jet for you,’ Shasa said without hesitation. ‘No, hell, I’ll fly up to fetch you myself.’

  She was waiting on the tarmac and she ran into his arms. Halfway back to Cape Town he touched her cheek and said, ‘I’ll need an official hostess at Highveld.’ That was the ambassador’s residence in London. ‘I’m even prepared to renegotiate your salary.’

  ‘Oh, Daddy,’ she said. ‘Why aren’t all the men in the world like you!’

  Jakobus Stander was hanged in the Pretoria Central prison. Sarah Stander and her husband were waiting outside when the death notice was posted on the main gates of the prison.

  The night that they returned to the cottage in Stellenbosch Sarah rose once Roelf was asleep and in the bathroom she took a massive overdose of barbiturates.

  She was dead in the bed beside him when Roelf Stander woke the following morning.

  Manfred and Heidi went to live on their farm in the Free State where Manfred raised pedigree merino sheep.

  At the agricultural show in Bloemfontein Manfred won a blue ribbon for the champion ram on show three years in succession.

  Always fleshly, Manfred put on a great deal of weight, eating out of boredom more than appetite. Only Heidi knew how he chaffed at inactivity, how much he longed to walk once again the corridors of power, and how pointless and frustrating he felt his existence had become.

  He suffered his heart attack while wandering alone in the veld and shepherds found his body the next morning lying where he had fallen. Centaine flew up in the company jet to his funeral. She was the only member of the Courtney family present when Manfred was buried with full honours in Heroes’ Acre, surrounded by the graves of many other outstanding Afrikaners, including Dr Hendrik Verwoerd.

  When Shasa Courtney was driven back from Buckingham Palace in the ambassadorial limousine after presenting his credentials to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, the streets were wet with the grey London drizzle.

  Despite the weather, the demonstrators were waiting for him in Trafalgar Square with their placards: THE SPIRIT OF MOSES GAMA LIVES ON and APARTHEID IS A CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY.

  As Shasa alighted from the limousine in front of the embassy, the demonstrators tried to push forward, but a line of blue-uniformed London bobbies linked arms to hold them back.

  ‘Shasa Courtney!’ Halfway across the sidewalk Shasa stopped dead in his tracks at the familiar voice, and he looked around.

  He did not recognize her at first, then he saw her in the front rank of the demonstration and he turned back. He struck a tall elegant figure in his court dress and top hat. He stopped in front of her and spoke to one of the constables.

  ‘Thank you, officer, but I know this lady, you may let her through.’ Then, as she ducked under the constable’s outstretched arm, he greeted her, ‘Hello, Tara.’

  He found it difficult to believe how she had changed. She was a blowsy middle-aged drab, only her eyes were still beautiful as they blazed at him.

  ‘Moses Gama lives on. The monsters of apartheid can murder our heroes, but the battle is ours. In the end we will inherit the earth.’ Her voice was a screech.

  ‘Yes, Tara,’ he replied. ‘There are heroes and there are monsters, but most of us are ordinary mortals caught up in events too turbulent for any of us. Perhaps when the battle is over, all we will inherit will be the ashes of a once beautiful land.’

  He turned away from her and walked into the entrance of the embassy without looking back.

  ALSO BY WILBUR SMITH

  THE COURTNEYS

  When the Lion Feeds

  The Sound of Thunder

  A Sparrow Falls

  Birds of Prey

  Monsoon

  Blue Horizon

  The Triumph of the Sun

  Assegai

  THE COURTNEYS OF AFRICA

  The Burning Shore

  Power of the Sword

  Rage

  A Time to Die

  Golden Fox

&nbs
p; THE BALLANTYNE NOVELS

  A Falcon Flies

  Men of Men

  The Angels Weep

  The Leopard Hunts in

  Darkness

  THE EGYPTIAN NOVELS

  River God

  The Seventh Scroll

  Warlock

  The Quest

  ALSO

  Dark of the Sun

  Shout at the Devil

  Gold Mine

  The Diamond Hunters

  The Sunbird

  Eagle in the Sky

  The Eye of the Tiger

  Cry Wolf

  Hungry as the Sea

  Wild Justice

  Elephant Song

  OUTSTANDING PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF WILBUR SMITH

  THE TRIUMPH OF THE SUN

  “Triumph of the Sun is everything [Smith’s] fans have come to expect: masterful storytelling and breathtaking adventure …chalk up another winner.”

  —Times Record News (Wichita Falls, TX)

  “Espionage, disguise, stabbings in the dark …a story that is—like the Nile itself—swift and powerful.”

  —Booklist

  “Wildly entertaining, compulsively readable.”

  —Sunday Telegraph (UK)

  BLUE HORIZON

  “The eleventh volume in Smith’s saga of the Courtney clan is every bit as riveting as its predecessors. Brimming with bravado, greed, and romance.”

  —Booklist

  “Really big retro-fun.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “A swashbuckling, brawling, sprawling historical epic. Rich, exciting, and fascinating.”

  —Library Journal

  “Adventure and danger at every turn.”

  —New York Daily News

  “Gripping. The writer’s fans will enjoy the ride.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Master storyteller Smith takes his story into another generation of adventurers battling on the sea and on land in the settling of South Africa.”

  —Tulsa World

  More …

  “Everything Smith’s fans have come to expect from his epic adventure novels. His consummate skill at crafting vast battle scenes, passionate and wildly romantic characters, cruel and bloodthirsty villains, and larger-than-life heroes make Blue Horizon irresistible.”

  —Journal (Flint, MI)

  WARLOCK

  “When it comes to historical fiction, Smith is without rival. He is a warlock of writers.”

  —Tulsa World

  “Filled with enough action, adventure, battles, betrayals, and actual cliffhangers to satisfy Indiana Jones, Wilbur Smith’s new novel Warlock is a rousing and worthy sequel to River God.”

  —The Plain Dealer

  “Seamlessly composed, this epic historical drama by veteran author Smith tracks a power struggle in ancient Egypt between false pharaohs and a true royal heir, evoking the cruel glories and terrible torments of the era. Those willing to brave the blood and gore will be carried away by the sweep and pace of Smith’s tale.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Each time I read a new Wilbur Smith I say it is the best book I have ever read—until the next one. It’s the same with Warlock. Brilliant … irresistible and impossible to put down.”

  —Times Record News (Wichita Falls, TX)

  “Those of you familiar with Smith’s writing … can expect more of his signature brand of pulse-pounding, ‘Perils of Pauline’—style of adventure and excitement, with more blood and guts than a slaughterhouse.”

  —Tampa Tribune Times

  “This summer’s most entertaining read … another full-blown tale of war, intrigue, murder, lust, and true love set in ancient Egypt. [This] is really the book Taita fans have been waiting for.”

  —Flint Journal

  “Smith is at the top of his game in weaving exotic adventures in this work. Very highly recommended.”

  —Library Journal

  “Smith …returns to the genre with this epic action tale of intrigue, suspense, and adventure set in ancient Egypt. His many fans will be clamoring for copies of this one.”

  —Booklist

  “A stirring tale, full of chariot battles … Smith has whipped up a heady brew … and undoubtedly deserves his immense popularity far more than most of his rivals.”

  —Evening Standard (UK)

  “You can almost feel the heat and taste the dust as the narrative builds to a cracking pace … [Warlock] is a ripping yarn and a classic adventure story.”

  —Irish News

  RIVER GOD

  “A grand tale of intrigue, deception, true love, and exile.”

  —The Denver Post

  “Vivid and fascinating … packed with passion, war, intrigue and revenge … sprawling and absorbing … gripping … A racy rampage through ancient Egypt that puts the reader right there with details that are intimate, inspiring, horrifying … The author makes you see it, hear it—even smell it … Fans will be happy to know Smith hasn’t lost his touch for the dramatic, exotic adventure story.”

  —The Orlando Sentinel

  “A page-turner … few novelists can write action scenes that all but leap off the page the way Smith can … his detailed portrait of ancient Egypt is fascinating.”

  —Anniston Star (TX)

  “Smith tackles the elevated literary fields of ancient Egypt, and comes up with a full-blooded epic.”

  —The London Times

  Author’s Note

  Once again I have taken some small liberties with the timetables of history, in particular the dates on which the Umkhonto we Sizwe and Poqo movements began, Nelson Mandela was acquitted in his first treason trial, and Harold Macmillan made his ‘Winds of Change’ speech.

  I hope that you, the reader, will forgive me for the sake of the narrative.

  Wilbur Smith

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  RAGE

  Copyright © Wilbur Smith 1987.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  First published in Great Britain 1987 by William Heinemann Ltd

  Pan Books edition published 1997

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  eISBN 9781429998093

  First eBook Edition : July 2011

  EAN: 978-0-312-94082-9

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / March 2007

 


 

  Wilbur Smith, Rage

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