When he ended to prolonged applause, Lord Littleton, as head of the underwriting bank, stood up to reply. He was lean and silver haired, his evening dress just that touch archaic in cut, with wide cuffs to the trousers, as if to underline his aristocratic scorn of fashion. He told them of his bank's strong relationship with Courtney Mining and the intense interest that this new company had aroused in the City of London.
'From the very beginning we at Littleton Bank were pretty damned certain that we were going to earn our underwriting fees very easily.
We knew that there would be very few unsubscribed shares for us to take up. So it gives me a deal of pleasure to stand before you here this evening and say, I told you so." There was a buzz of comment and speculation which he raised a hand to silence. 'I am going to tell you something that not even Mr Shasa Courtney knows yet, and which Ionly learned myself an hour ago." He reached into his pocket and brought out a telex flimsy which he waved at them.
'As you are aware, the subscription lists for shares in Silver River Mining opened this morning at 10 a.m. London time, two hours behind South African time. When my bank closed a few hours ago, they sent me this telex." He placed gold-rimmed reading glasses on his nose.
'I quote: "Please convey congratulations to Mr Courtney and Courtney Mining and Finance as promoters of Silver River Gold-Mining Co. Stop as of 4 pm London time today the Silver River issue was oversubscribed by four times Ends Littleton Bank."' David Abrahams seized Shasa's hand, the first to congratulate him. In the roar of applause they grinned at each other happily, until Shasa broke away and jumped down off the dais.
Centaine Courtney-Malcomess was in the first row of his audience and she sprang lightly to her feet to meet him. She was dressed in a sheath of gold lam and wearing her full suite of diamonds, each stone carefully picked from thirty years' production of the H'am Mine. Slim and glittering and lovely, she went to meet her son.
'Now we have it all, Mater,' he whispered as he hugged her.
No, chbri, we'll never have it all,' she whispered back. 'That would be dull. There is always something more to strive for." Blaine Malcomess was waiting to congratulate him, and Shasa turned to him with an arm still around Centaine's waist.
'Big night, Shasa." Blaine took his hand. 'You deserve it all." 'Thank you, sir." What a pity Tara couldn't be here,' Blaine went on.
'I wanted her to come." Shasa was immediately defensive. 'But as you know she decided she couldn't leave the children again so soon." The crowd surged around them, and they were laughing and replying to congratulations, but Shasa saw the public relations director hovering and eased his way through to her.
'Well, Mrs Anstey, you have done us proud." He smiled at.her with all his charm. She was tall and rather bony but with silky blond hair that hung in a thick curtain over her bare shoulders.
'I always try to give full satisfaction." Jill Anstey hooded her eyes and pouted slightly to give the remark an ambiguous slant. They had been teasing each other ever since they had met the previous day. 'But I'm afraid I have some more work for you, Mr Courtney.
Will you bear with me just once more?" 'As often as you wish, Mrs Anstey." Shasa played the game out, and she placed her hand on his forearm to lead him away, squeezing just a little more than was necessary.
'The television people from NABS want to do a five-minute interview with you, for inclusion in their "Africa in Focus" series. It could be a wonderful chance to speak directly to fifty million Americans." The TV team was setting up their equipment in the boardroom; the lights and cameras were being trained on the far end of the long room, where Centaine's portrait by Annigoni, hung on the stinkwood panelling. There were three men in the camera crew, all young and casually dressed but clearly highly professional and competent, and with them was a girl.
'Who will do the interview?" Shasa asked, glancing around curiously.
'That's the director,' Jill Anstey said. 'And she'll talk to you." It took him a moment to realize that she meant the girl, then he saw that without seeming to do so, the girl was directing the set-up, indicating a camera angle or a lighting change with a word or a gesture.
'She's just a child,' Shasa protested.
'Twenty-five and smart as a bunch of monkeys,' Jill Anstey warned him. 'Don't let the little-girl look fool you. She's a professional and a strong corner with a big following in the States. She did that incredible series of interviews with Jomo Kenyatta, the Mau Mau terrorist, not to mention the "Heartbreak Ridge" story in Korea.
They say she'll get an Emmy for it." South Africa did not have a TV network, but Shasa had seen 'Heartbreak Ridge' on BBC television during his last stay in London.
It was a gritty, totally absorbing commentary on the Korean war, and Shasa found it hard to believe that this child had done that. She turned now and came directly to him, holding out her hand, frank and friendly, a fresh-faced ingbnue.
'Hello, Mr Courtney, I'm Kitty Godolphin." She had an enchanting southern accent and there were fine golden freckles across her cheeks and her small pert nose, but then he saw that she had good bone structure and interesting planes to her face that would render her highly photogenic.
'Mr Courtney,' she said. 'You speak so well, I couldn't resist trying to get a little more of you on film. I hope I haven't put you out too much." She smiled at him, a sweet engaging smile, but he looked beyond it into eyes as hard as any diamonds from the H'am Mine, eyes that were bright with a sharp cynical intelligence and ruthless ambition. That was unexpected and intriguing.
'Here's a show that will be worth the entrance fee,' he thought and glanced down. Her breasts were small, smaller than he usually chose, but they were unsupported and he could see their shape beneath her blouse. They were exquisite.
She led him to the leather chairs she had arranged to face each other under the lights.
'If you would sit on this side we'll get right into it. I'll do my introduction later. ! don't want to keep you any longer than I have to." 'As long as you like." 'Oh, I know that you have a room full of important guests." She glanced at her crew and one of them gave her a thumbs-up. She looked back at Shasa. 'The American public knows very little about South Africa,' she explained. 'What I am trying to do is capture a cross-section of your society and figure out how it all works. I will introduce you as a politician, mining tycoon and financier, and tell them about this fabulous new gold-mine of yours. Then we'll cut to you. Okay?" 'Okay!" He smiled easily. 'Let her roll." The clapper loader snapped the board in front of Shasa's face, somebody said 'Sound?" and solnebody else replied 'Rolling' and then 'Action'.
'Mr Shasa Courtney, you have just told a meeting of your shareholders that your new gold-mine will probably be one of the five richest in South Africa, which makes it one of the richest in the world. Can you tell our viewers just how much of that fabulous wealth will be going back to people from which it was stolen in the first place?" she asked with breathtaking candour. 'And I am, of course, referring to the black tribes who once owned the land." Shasa was off-balance for only the moment that it took him to realize that he was in a fight. Then he responded easily.
'The black tribes who once owned the land on which the Silver River mine is situated were slaughtered, to the last man, woman and child, back in the 1820s by the impis of Kings Chaka and Mzilikazi, those two benevolent Zulu monarchs who between them managed to reduce the population of southern Africa by fifty percent,' he told her. 'When the white settlers moved northwards, they came upon a land denuded of all human life. The land they staked was open, they stole it from nobody. I bought the mineral rights from people who had clear undisputed title to it." He saw a glint of respect in her eyes, but she was as quick as he had been. She had lost a point but she was ready to play the next.