These days he only did that when he was wildly over-excited.
'Slow down, Garry. Take a deep breath,' Shasa advised him, but the words kept tumbling out, and Garry seized his father's hand and led him to the computer to illustrate what he was trying to put across.
'You know what Nana has always said, and what you are always telling me about land being the only lasting asset, well--' Garry's powerful spatulate fingers rippled over the computer keys. Shasa watched with curiosity as Garry presented his case, but when he realized what the boy was driving at, he quickly lost interest and concentration.
However, he listened to it all before he asked quietly, 'So you have paid for the option with your own money?' 'I have it signed, here!' Garry brandished the document. 'It cost me all my savings, over two thousand pounds just for a one-week option.' 'Let me recap, then,' Shasa suggested. 'You have spent two thousand pounds to acquire a one-week option on a section of agricultural ground on the northern outskirts of Johannesburg which you intend to develop as a residential township, complete with a shopping complex, theatres, cinemas and all the trimmings--' 'There is at least twenty million pounds of profit in the development - at the very least.' Garry manipulated the computer keyboard and pointed to the rippling green figures. 'Just look at that, Dad!' 'Garry! Garry!' Shasa sighed. 'I think you have just lost your two thousand pounds, but the experience will be worth it in the long run.
Of course, there is twenty million profit in it. Everybody knows that, and everybody wants a piece of that action. It's just for that reason that there is such strict control on township development. It takes at least five years to get government approval for a new township, and there are hundreds of pitfalls along the way. It's a highly complex and specialized field of investment, and the outlay is enormous millions of pounds at risk. Don't you see, Garry? Your piece of land is probably not the best available, there will be a dozen other projects ahead of yours and township development just isn't one of the areas which we deal in--' Shasa broke off and stared at his son. Garry was flapping his hands and stuttering so badly that Shasa had to warn him again, 'Big breath.' Garry gasped and his barrelchest expanded until his shirt buttons strained. It came out quite clearly.
'I already have approval,' he said.
'That takes years - I've explained.' Shasa was brusque. He began to rise. 'We should change for dinner. Come on.' 'Dad, you don't understand,' Garry insisted. 'Approval has already been granted.' Shasa sat down slowly. 'What did you say?' he asked quietly.
'Township approval was granted in 1891 by the Volksraad of the old Transvaal republic. It was signed by President Kruger himself, but it is still perfectly legal and binding. It was just forgotten, that is all.' 'I don't believe it.' Shasa shook his head. 'How on earth did you get on to this, Garry?' 'I was reading a couple of old books about the early days of the Witwatersrand and the gold-mines. I thought that if I was going to learn mining, the very least I could do was bone up on the history of the industry,' Garry explained. 'And in one of the books there was a mention of one of the old Rand lords and his grandiose idea of building a paradise city for the very rich away from the coarse and rowdy centre of Johannesburg. The author mentioned that he had actually bought a six-thousand- acre farm and had it surveyed and that approval had been granted by the Volksraad, and then the whole idea had been abandoned.' 'What did you do then?' 'I went to the archives and looked up the proceedings of the Volksraad for the years 1889 to 1891 and there it was - the approval.
Then I researched the title deeds of the property at the deeds registry and went out to the farm itself. It's called Baviaansfontein and it's owned by two brothers, both in their seventies. Nice old fellows, we got on well and they showed me their horses and cattle, and invited me to lunch. They thought the option was a big joke, but when I showed them my two thousand pounds, they had never seen so much money in one pile in their lives.' Garry grinned. 'Here are copies of the title deeds and the original township approval.' Garry handed them to his father and Shasa read through slowly, even moving his lips like a semi-literate so as to savour every word of the ancient documents.
'When does your option expire?' he asked at last, without looking up.
'Noon on Thursday. We will have to act fast.' 'Did you take out the option in the name of Courtney Mining?' Shasa asked.
No. In my own name, but of course, I did it for you and the company.' 'You thought this out alone,' Shasa said carefully. 'You researched it yourself, dug up the original approval, negotiated the option with the owners, paid for it with two thousand of your own hard-earned cash. You did all the work and took all the risks and now you want to hand it over to someone else. That isn't very bright, is it? 'I don't want to hand it over to just anybody - to you, Dad.
Everything I do is for you, you know that.' 'Well, that changes as of now,' said Shasa briskly. 'I will personally lend you the two hundred thousand purchase price and we will fly up to Johannesburg first thing tomorrow to clinch the deal. Once you own the land, Courtney Mining will begin negotiating with you the terms of a joint venture to develop it.' The negotiations started tough, and then as Garry got his first taste of blood, they grew tougher.
'My God, I've sired a monster,' Shasa complained, to hide his pride in his offspring's bargaining technique. 'Come on, son, leave something in it for us.' To mollify his father a little Garry announced a change in the name of the property. In future it would be known as Shasaville.
When they at last signed the final agreement, Shasa opened a bottle of champagne and said, 'Congratulations, my boy.' That approbation was worth more to Garry than all the townships and every grain of gold on the Witwatersrand.
Lothar De La Rey was one of the youngest police captains on the force, and this was not entirely on account of his father's position and influence. From the time he had been awarded the sword of honour at police college, he had distinguished himself in every field that was considered important by the higher command. He had studied for and passed all his promotion examinations with distinction. A great emphasis was placed on athletic endeavour and rugby football was the major sport in the police curriculum. It was now almost certain that Lothar would be chosen as an international during the forthcoming tour by the New Zealand All Blacks. He was well liked both by his senior officers and his peers, and his service record was embellished by an unbroken string of excellent ratings. Added to this he had shown an unusual aptitude for police work. Neither the plodding monotony of investigation nor the routine of patrol wearied him, and in those sudden eruptions of dangerous and violent action, Lothar had displayed resourcefulness and courage.
He had four citations on his service record, all of them for successful confrontation with dangerous criminals. He was also the holder of the police medal for gallantry, which he had been awarded after he had shot and killed two notorious drug dealers during a foot-chase through the black township at night, and a single-handed shoot-out from which he had emerged unscathed.
Added to all this was the assessment by his superiors that while himself amenable to discipline, he had the qualities of command and leadership highly developed. Both these were very much Afrikaner characteristics. During the North African campaign against Rommel, General Montgomery, when told that there was a shortage of officer material, had replied, 'Nonsense, we've got thousands of South Africans. Each of them is a natural leader - from childhood they are accustomed to giving orders to the natives.' Lothar had been stationed at the Sharpeville police station since graduating from police college and had come to know the area intimately. Gradually he had built up his
