diane johnson and judgement for 150rand per month.' rod blinked and was silent.
'i should mention two further actions against you for assault, both unsuccessful on the grounds of justification or self-defence.'
'is that all?' asked rod sarcastically.
'almost,' admitted doctor steyner. 'it is only necessary to note further recurrent expenditure in the form of a monthly payment of r150.00 on a continental sports car, and a further r100.00 per month rental on the premises 596 glen alpine heights, corner lane, hillbrow.'
rod was furious, he had believed that no one in crc knew about the flat.
'damn you! you've been prying into my affairs!'
'yes,' agreed doctor steyner levelly. 'i am guilty, but in good cause. if you bear with me, you'll see why.' suddenly doctor steyner stood up from the desk, crossed the room to the concealed wash basin, and again began to wash his hands. as he dried them, he spoke again.
'your monthly commitments are r850. your salary, after deduction of tax, is less than one thousand rand. you have no mining degree, and the chances of your taking the next step upwards to general manager without it are remote.
you are at your ceiling, mr. ironsides. on your own ability you can go no further. in thirty years' time you will not be the youngest underground manager in the crc group, but the oldest.' doctor steyner paused. 'that is, provided that your rather expensive tastes have not landed you in a debtors' prison, and that neither the quickness and heat of your temper, nor the matching speed and temperature of your genitalia have gotten you into really serious trouble.' steyner dropped the towel in the bin and returned to his seat. they sat in absolute silence, regarding each other for a full minute.
'you got me all the way up here to tell me this?' asked rod, his whole body tense, his voice slightly husky. it needed only an ounce more of provocation to launch him across the desk at steyner's throat.
'no.' steyner shook his head. 'i got you up here to tell you that i will use all my influence, which i flatter myself is considerable, to secure your appointment and i mean immediate appointment to the position of general manager of the sander ditch gold mining company ltd.' rod recoiled in his chair as though steyner had spat in his face.
he stared at him aghast.
'why?' he asked, 'what do you want in exchange?'
'neither your friendship, nor your gratitude,' doctor steyner told him.
'but your unquestioning obedience to my instructions. you will be my man completely.' rod went on staring at, him while his mind raced.
without steyner's intervention he would wait at the very least ten years for, this promotion, if it ever came. he wanted it, my god, how he wanted it. the achievement, the increase in income, the power that went with the job.
his own mine! his own mine at the age of thirty-eight and an additional 10,000 rand per annum.
yet rod was not gullible enough to believe that manfred steyner's price would be cheap. when the instruction came that he was to follow with unquestioning obedience, he knew it would stink like a ten-day corpse.
but once he had the job he could refuse the instruction. get the job first, then decide once he received the instruction whether to follow it or not.
'i accept,' he said.
manfred steyner stood up from the desk.
'you will hear from me,' he said. 'now you may go.' rod crossed the wide-flagged stoep without seeing or hearing; vaguely he wandered down across the lawns towards his car. his mind was harrying the recent conversation, tearing it to pieces like a pack of wild dogs on a carcass. he almost bumped into theresa steyner before he saw her, and abruptly his mind dropped the subject of the general managership.
teresa had changed her clothing, made up her face and eyes, and the pig-tails were concealed under a lime-coloured silk scarf, all this in the half hour since their last meeting.
she was hovering over a flower bed with a flower basket on one arm, as bright and pleasing as a hummingbird.
rod was amused and flattered, vain enough to realize that the change was in his honour, and connoisseur enough to appreciate the improvement.
'hello.' she looked up, contriving successfully to look both surprised and artless. her eyes were really enormous, and the make-up was designed to enhance their size.
'you are a busy little bee.' rod ran a knowledgeable appraisal over the floral slack suit she wore, and saw the colour start in her cheeks as she felt his eyes.
'did you have a successful meeting?'
'very.'
'are you a lawyer?'
'no. i work for your grandfather.'
'doing what?'
'mining his gold. ' which mine?'
'sander ditch.'
'what's your position?'
'well, if your husband is as good as his word, i'm the new general manager.' 'you're too young,' she said.
'that's what i thought.'
'pops will have something to say on the subject.' 'pops?' he asked.
'my grandfather. 'and rod laughed before he could stop himself 'what's so funny?'
'the chairman of crc being called 'pops'.'
'i'm the only one who calls him that.'
'i bet you are.' rod laughed again. 'in fact i'd bet you'd get away with a lot of things no one else would dare.' suddenly the underlying sexuality of his last remark occurred to them both and they fell silent. theresa looked down and carefully snipped the head off a flower.
'i didn't mean it that way,' apologized rod.
'what way, mr. ironsides?' she looked up and enquired with mischievous innocence, and they laughed together with the awkwardness gone again.
she walked beside him to the car, making it seem a completely natural thing to do, and as he slipped behind the steering-wheel she remarked: 'manfred and i will be coming out to the sander ditch next week.
manfred is to present long service and bravery awards to some of your men.' she had already refused the invitation to accompany manfred, she must now see to it that she was re- invited. 'i shall probably see you then.'
'i look forward to it,' said rod, and let in the clutch.
rod glanced in the rear view mirror. she was a remarkably provocative and attractive woman. a careless man could drown in those eyes.
'doctor manfred steyner has got himself a big fat problem there,' he decided. 'our manfred is probably so busy soaping and scrubbing his equipment, that he never gets round to using it.' through the leaded windows doctor steyner caught a glimpse of the maserati as it disappeared around the curve in the driveway, and he listened as the throb of the engine dwindled into silence.
he lifted the receiver of the telephone and wiped it with the white handkerchief before putting it to his ear. he dialled and while it rang he inspected the nails of his free hand minutely.
'steyner,' he said into the mouthpiece. 'yes yes.' he listened.
'yes... he has just left... yes, it is arranged... no, there will be no difficulty there, i am sure.' as he spoke he was looking at the palm of his hand, he saw the tiny beads of perspiration appear on his skin and an expression of disgust tightened his lips.
'i am fully aware of the consequences. i tell you, i know.' he closed his eyes and listened for another minute without moving as the receiver squawked and cracked, then he opened his eyes.
'it will be done in good time, i assure you. goodbye.' he hung up and went to wash his hands. now, he thought, as he worked up lather, to get it past the old man.
he was old now, seventy-eight long hard years old.
his hair and his eyebrows were creamy white. his skin was folded and creased, freckled and spotted, hanging in unexpected little pouches under his chin and eyes.
his body had dried out, so he stood gaunt and stooped like a tree that has taken a set before the prevailing winds; but there was still the underlying urgency in the way he held himself, the same urgency that had earned him the name of 'hurry' hirschfeld when first he bustled into the gold fields sixty years ago.
on this monday morning he was standing before the full length windows of his penthouse office, looking down on the city of
johannesburg. reef house stood shoulder to massive shoulder with the schlesinger building on the braamfontein ridge above the city proper.
from this height it seemed that johannesburg cowered at hurry hirschfeld's feet, as well it should. long ago, even before the great depression of the thirties, he had ceased to measure his wealth in terms of money. he owned outright a little over a quarter of the issued share capital of central rand consolidated. at the present market price of r120 per share, this was a staggering sum. in addition, through a complicated arrangement of trusts, proxy rights and interlocking directorates, he had control of a further massive block of twenty percent of the company's voting rights.
