because we fought two wars for her?' He shook his head. 'No, the caravan moves on and so must we. We must ignore the gloating of the London press, we must ignore their delight in this unprecedented rebuke and repudiation of all of us, the Nationalists and those that strenuously oppose them. From now on we will be increasingly alone, and we must learn to stand on our own feet.' Shasa nodded. 'Macmillan's speech was a huge political gain for Verwoerd. There is only one way for us to go now. The bridge has been chopped down behind us. No retreat is possible. We have to go along with Verwoerd. South Africa will be a republic before the year is out, mark my words, and after that --' Shasa drew on his cigar while he considered '-- and after that only God and the Devil know for certain.' 'At times it seems that God and fate take a direct hand in our petty affairs,' Tara said softly. 'But for a tiny detail, the choice of the dining-room rather than the chamber, we might have destroyed the man who had brought us a message of hope.' 'For once it does seem that your Christian God favours us.' Moses watched her in the driving-mirror as he drove the Chevrolet through the Monday rush hour traffic. 'Our timing has been perfect. At the moment when the British Government, supported by the British press and the nation, has recognized our rights, the political destinies of free men, as Macmillan put it, we will deliver our first hard blow for the promised freedom.' 'I am afraid, Moses, afraid for you and for all of us.' 'The time for fear has passed,' he told her. 'Now is the time for courage and resolution, for it is not oppression and slavery that breeds revolution. The lesson is clear. Revolution rises out of the promise of better things. For three hundred years we have borne oppression in weary resignation, but now this Englishman has shown us a glimpse of the future and it is golden with promise. He has given our people hope, and after today, after we have struck down the most evil man in Africa's dark and tormented history, when Verwoerd is dead, the future will at last belong to us.' He had spoken softly, but with that peculiar intensity that made her blood thrill through her veins and pound in her eardrums. She felt the elation, but also the sorrow and the fear.
'Many men will die with him,' she whispered. 'My father. Is there no way he can be spared, Moses?' He did not reply, but she saw the reflection of his gaze in the mirror and she could not bear the scorn. She dropped her own eyes and murmured.
'I'm sorry - I will be strong. I will not speak of it again.' But her mind was racing. There must be some way to keep her father out of the chamber at'the fateful moment, but it would have to be compelling. As deputy leader of the opposition, he must attend such solemn business as Verwoerd's speech. Moses disturbed her thoughts. 'I want you to repeat your duties to me,' he said.
'We have gone over it so often,' she protested weakly.
'There must be no misunderstanding.' His tone was fierce. 'Do as I tell you.' 'Once the House is in session - so that we are certain Shasa will not intercept us - we will go up to his suite in the usual way,' she began, and he nodded confirmation as she went over the arrangements, correcting her when she omitted a detail. 'I will leave the office at exactly ten-thirty and go to the visitors' gallery. We must be certain that Verwoerd is there.' 'Do you have your pass?' 'Yes.' Tara opened her handbag and showed him. 'As soon as Verwoerd rises to begin his address, I will return to the office, using the panel door. By that time you will have --' her voice faltered.
'Go on,' he ordered harshly.
'You will have connected the detonator. I will confirm that Verwoerd is in his seat, and you will --' again her voice dried up.
'I will do what has to be done,' he finished for her and then went on, 'After the explosion there will be a period of total panic and confusion - with enormous damage to the ground floor. There will be no control, no organized police or security effort. That period will last sufficiently long for us to go downstairs and leave the building unchallenged, just as rn'ost other survivors will be doing.' 'When you leave the country, can I come with you, Moses?' she pleaded.
'No.' He shook his head firmly. 'I must travel swiftly and you would impede us and put us in danger. You will be safer here. It will only be for a short time. After the assassination of the white slavemasters, our people will rise. The young comrades of Umkhonto we Sizwe are in position and ready to call the nation to revolution.
Millions of our people will spontaneously fill the streets. When they have seized the power, I will return. Then you will have a place of high honour by my side.' It was amazing how naYvely she accepted his assurances, he thought grimly. Only a besotted woman could doubt that afterwards the security police would take her away, and her interrogation would be brutal. It did not matter. It did not matter if they tried and hanged her. Her husband would be dead with Verwoerd and Tara Courtney's usefulness would be at an end. One day when the people's democratic government of the African National Congress ruled the land, they would name a street or a square after her, the white woman martyr, but now she was expendable.
'Give me your promise, Moses,' she begged him.
His voice was a deep reassuring rumble. 'You have done well, everything I have required of you. You and your son will have a place at my side just as soon as that is possible. I give you my promise.' 'Oh Moses, I love you,' she whispered. 'I shall always love you.' Then she sat back in her seat and adopted the role of cool white madam, as Moses turned the Chevrolet out of Parliament Lane into the members' carpark and the constable at the gate saw the sticker on the windshield and saluted respectfully.
Moses parked in the reserved bay and switched off the engine.
They had fifteen minutes to wait before the House went into session.
'Ten minutes to, Mr Courtney,' Tricia called Shasa on the intercom.
'You had better start going down, if you don't want to miss the opening of the PM's speech.' 'Thank you, Tricia.' Shasa had been totally absorbed with his own work. Verwoerd had asked him to draw up a full report on the country's ability to respond to an embargo on sales of military equipment to South Africa by her erstwhile western allies. Apparently Macmillan had hinted at this possibility to Verwoerd, a veiled threat in private conversation just before his departure. Verwoerd wanted the report before the month's end, which was typical of the man, and Shasa would have difficulty meeting that deadline.
'Oh, by the way, Mr Courtney,' Tricia stopped him breaking off the connection. 'I spoke to Odendaal.' 'OdendaalT It took Shasa a moment to make the mental switch.
'Yes, about the work on your ceiling.' 'Oh, I hope you gave him a flea in the ear. What did he say?' 'He says there has been no work done in your office, and no request from your wife or anybody else for rewiring of any kind.' 'That's decidedly odd,' Shasa looked up at the damage, 'because somebody has definitely been fiddling around in here. If it wasn't Odendaal, then have you any idea who it might be, Tr, icia?' 'No, Mr Courtney.' Nobody been in here to your knowledge?' Shasa insisted.
'Nobody, sir, except of course your wife and her driver.' 'All right, thank you, Tricia.' Shasa stood up and fetched his jacket from the dumb valet in the corner. While he shrugged into it, he studied the hole above his desk and the length of wire that had been drawn out of the corner beside the bookcase and the end tucked behind the row of encyclopaedias. Until Tricia mentioned it, he had forgotten his irritation in the face of other more dire considerations, but now he thought about the little mystery with full attention.
