'but people!' the fat man protested. 'there will be people down there when it bursts, thousands of them.' the lecturer smiled, raising one eyebrow. 'if i were to tell you that six thousand men would drown, would you refuse to proceed, and forfeit the million-dollar payment my government has offered you?' the fat man looked down, embarrassed, and muttered barely audibly, 'no.' the lecturer chuckled. ''good! good!
however, you may salve you aching conscience by assuring yourself that we do not expect more than forty or fifty fatalities from the flooding.
naturally, those men actually working on the face will be killed. but that tremendous volume of water under immense pressure should make it a merciful death. for the rest of them, the mine can be evacuated swiftly enough to allow them excellent chances of survival. the surrounding mines will have days to evacuate before the water pressure builds up sufficiently to burst through the boundary walls.' there was silence then in the room for nearly a minute.
'have you any questions?' the fat man shook his head.
'very well, in that case i will leave it to my colleague to complete the briefing he will explain the necessity for this operation, will arrange the terms of payment and conditions upon which you will proceed.' the lecturer gathered up the pamphlet and other papers from the desk. 'it remains only for me to wish you good luck.' he chuckled again and left the room quickly.
the little man, who up until now had remained silent, suddenly bounced out of his chair and began pacing up and down the wall-to-wall carpeting. he spoke rapidly, shooting occasional sideways glances at his audience, his bald head shining in the fluorescent lighting, wriggling his mustache like rabbit whiskers, puffing nervously at his cigarette.
'reasons first. i'll make it short and sweet, right? the south africans and the frogs have got together. they're here in paris now cooking up mischief. we know what they're up to, they're going to launch an all-out attack on my government's currency. gold price increase, you know.
very complicated and very nasty for us, right? they might just be able to do it, south africa is the world's biggest gold producer. with the frogs helping her, they might just be able to force an increase.' he stopped in front of the fat man and thrust out an accusing finger.
'are we going to sit back and let them have a free run?
no, sir! we are going to throw down our own curve ball!
in three months time the syndicate will be ready to attack.
at that precise moment we will kick the chair out from under the south africans by cutting their gold production in half. we will flood the kitchenerville gold fields and the attack will fizzle out like a damp squib, right?' 'as simple as that?' asked the fat man.
'as simple as that!' the bald head nodded vigorously.
'now, my next duty is to make clear to you that the agreed million dollars is all the reward you receive. neither you nor your agents may indulge in any financial transactions that might, in retrospect, show that this was a planned operation, right?'
'right. 'the fat man nodded.
'you give your assurance that you will not deal in any of the shares of the companies involved?'
'you have my solemn word.' the fat man told him earnestly, and not for the first time in his life reflected how easily and painlessly a promise could be given.
with the assistance of the three men who had watched manfred steyner that night at the gambling club in johannesburg, he intended launching a bear offensive on the stock exchanges of the world.
on the day that they drilled into the big dipper dyke he and his partners would sell millions of the shares of the five mining companies for one of the biggest financial killings in the history of money.
'we are agreed then.' the bald head bobbed. 'now, as for this doctor steyner, we have had a screening and personality analysis and we believe that, despite the secure hold you have on his loyalties, he would jib at giving the order to drive on the big dipper if he were aware of the consequences. therefore we have prepared a second geological report,' he produced, from his brief case a thick manila folder, 'incorporating those figures which he will recognize.
in other words the drilling results of the crc exploration teams, but the other figures are fictitious. this report purports to prove the existence of a fabulously rich gold reef beyond the fault.' he crossed to the fat man and handed him the folder. 'take it. it will help you convince doctor steyner, and he in turn to convince the new general manager of the sander ditch gold mine.'
'you have been thorough,' said the fat man.
'we try to give a satisfactory service to our customers, said the bald man.
the game was five-card stud poker, and there were two big winners at the table, manfred steyner and the algerian.
manfred had timed his arrival in paris to ensure himself an uninterrupted weekend before the rest of the delegates came in on the monday morning flight.
he had checked in at the hotel george cinq on saturday afternoon, battled and rested for three hours until eight in the evening, then he had set out for the club chat noir by taxi.
he had been playing now for five hours, and a steady succession of strong cards had pushed his winnings up to a formidable sum. it lay piled in front of him, a fruit salad of garish french bank notes.
across the table sat the algerian, a slim dark-skinned arab with toffee eyes and a silky black mustache. his teeth were very white against the creamy brown skin. he wore a turtle-neck shirt in pink silk, and a linen jacket of baby blue. with long brown fingers he kept smoothing and stacking his own pile of bank notes.
a girl sat on the arm of his chair, an arab girl in a skintight gold trouser suit. her hair was shiny black and hung onto her shoulders, her eyes were disconcertingly level as she watched manfred.
'ten thousand.' manfred's voice was explosive, like that of a teutonic drillmaster. he was betting on his fourth card which had just been dealt to him. he and the algerian were the remaining players in the game. the others had folded their hands and were sitting back watching with the casual interest of men no longer involved.
the algerian's eyes narrowed slightly and the girl leaned down to whisper softly in his ear. he shook his head, annoyed, and drew on his cigarette. he had a pair of queens and a six showing and he leaned forward to study manfred's cards.
the dealer's voice prodded. 'the bet is ten thousand francs, from four, five, seven of clubs. possible straight flush.' 'bet or drop,' said one of the uncommitted players.
'you're wasting time.' the algerian flashed him a venomous glance.
'bet,' he said, and counted out ten thousand-franc notes into the pool.
'carte.' the dealer slid a card face down in front of each of them.
quickly the algerian lifted one corner of his card with his thumb, glanced at it and then closed the face.
manfred sat very still, the card lying inches from his right hand.
his face was pale, calm, but he was seething internally. far from a possible straight flush, manfred was holding four, five, seven of clubs and the eight of hearts. a six was the only card that could improve his hand and one six was already showing among the algerian's cards.
his chances were remote.
his lower belly and loins were tight and hot with excitement, his chest constricted. he drew out the sensation, wanting it to last for ever.
'pair of queens still to+et,' murmured the dealer.
'ten thousand.' the algerian pushed the notes forward.
he has found another queen, thought manfred, but he is uncertain of my flush or straight.
manfred placed his smooth white hand over his fifth card, cupping it.
he lifted it.
'table, said manfred calmly, and there was a gasp and rustle from the watchers. the girl's hand tightened on the algerian's sleeve, she stared with hatred into manfred's face.
'the gentleman has made a table bet,' intoned the croupier. 'house rules. any player may bet the entire stake he has upon the table.' he reached across and began to count the notes in front of manfred.
minutes later he announced the total. 'two hundred and twelve thousand francs.' he looked across at the algerian. 'it is now up to you to bet against the possible straight flush.' the girl whispered urgently into the arab's ear, but he snapped a single word at her and she recoiled. he looked about the room, as if seeking guidance, then he lifted and examined his hole cards again.
suddenly his face hardened, and he looked steadily across at manfred.
'call!' he blurted, and manfred's clenched right hand fell open upon the table.
the arab faced his hand. three queens. the whole room looked expectantly at manfred.
he flicked over his last card. two of diamonds. his hand was worthless.
with a birdlike cry of triumph the algerian leaped from his seat and reaching across the table began raking manfred's stake with both arms towards him.
manfred stood up from the table, and the arab girl grinned maliciously at him, taunting him in
