Calder glanced at Cornelius. ‘Thanks, Tarek.’
‘Wait,’ said Tarek. ‘We were discussing The Times takeover. My analyst said that the more interesting question is where Evelyn Gill’s funding comes from. We know he has relationships with Swiss private banks. Three years ago a Sunday newspaper in London ran a story that the money had ultimately come from Islamic sources, but Gill denied this and sued the paper successfully. My man believes that South Africa is a more likely possibility.’
‘Really?’
‘As it happens, I went to school with a guy called Jeff Tidwell, who was FD of Beckwith Communications until a couple of years ago.’ Calder knew that Tarek’s expensive education had included a stint at an English public school, before university in the States. ‘I called him yesterday. He said he had no idea what I was talking about, he said Gill had used his own funds all along, he’d never taken a penny from outside investors.’
‘That can’t be right, can it?’
‘Actually, no. According to my analyst there are tens if not hundreds of millions that must have come from somewhere outside Beckwith Communications, and Gill never made that much from his metal-trading business. I think Jeff was lying to me. Which shouldn’t surprise me, I never really trusted him at school.’
‘All very interesting. Thanks again, Tarek.’
‘Any time, my friend.’
Cornelius’s eyes had never shifted from Calder. ‘Well?’ he said.
‘I believe you,’ said Calder, putting away his phone. He then told Cornelius about Tarek’s suspicions of Gill.
‘Of course!’ said Cornelius. ‘How stupid of me.’ He drummed the table with his fingers, his brain firing. ‘After I said no, the Laagerbond looked for someone else to back. And they found a right-wing bigot who would do anything for money and power. It makes sense. I’ve noticed that his papers have an anti-ANC bias whenever they report on South Africa. I thought it was personaclass="underline" he was so angry with me for beating him on the Herald deal that he took it out on my country. But that never made much sense. Laagerbond backing does. Plus he now owns a couple of major titles in this country.’
Calder watched the older man. ‘What about Martha?’
‘I didn’t kill her.’
Calder sipped his coffee, considering Cornelius’s response.
‘I want to help you,’ Cornelius continued. ‘This isn’t just about Martha. When it was I could try to put everything behind me, forget about it. But this is about Todd and your sister and Caroline and Kim and you.’ Cornelius leaned forward, brushing a salt cellar out of the way. ‘For the last eighteen years I have been in denial. I didn’t want Martha’s death dragged up and picked over, nor did I want my connections with the Laagerbond dogging me for the rest of my career, even though they didn’t come to anything. So when Martha’s mother asked me questions about the Laagerbond and urged me to go to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, I ignored her. Just like I ignored Todd later. I never considered whether the Laagerbond had anything to do with Martha’s death, I did my best not to consider her death at all. The police said it was a random guerrilla killing and that fit with my view of what was happening in South Africa at the time. It was buried and I wanted it to stay buried. It was only when Todd spoke to me yesterday that I realized I had to face the truth.’ Cornelius stared hard at Calder. ‘I want to help.’
‘OK.’ Calder took a deep breath. ‘There are a couple of things you need to know, if you don’t know them already. I warn you, they will make unpleasant listening.’
‘Tell me,’ said Cornelius.
‘Did you know Beatrice Pienaar was a spy?’
‘George Field claimed that, but it was paranoia,’ Cornelius said. ‘He could never prove it.’
‘He can now,’ Calder said. ‘It came out during the Truth and Reconciliation Commission hearings. She was a lieutenant in the security police.’
‘No!’ said Cornelius. ‘No one ever told me.’
‘Did you ask?’
‘No,’ Cornelius admitted.
‘What happened to her?’
‘I don’t know. After Martha died we became... less close. She quit Zyl News.’
‘The second thing is...’ Calder hesitated. He wasn’t sure that Cornelius deserved to hear the next bit.
‘What?’ Cornelius said.
Calder ploughed on. As Cornelius himself had said, this was about much more than him. Calder needed to find the truth. ‘Did you know your wife had a lover?’
‘No!’ Cornelius looked truly shocked. ‘Oh, God.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘And I was just worried about what she thought about Beatrice. This was at the end, wasn’t it? Just before she died.’
‘Yes.’
‘Who was it? Not George Field? Or Havenga? He was a randy old bastard but I can’t imagine him and Martha. I can’t imagine anyone and Martha.’
‘Benton Davis.’
‘What!’ Calder kept quiet as he let the idea sink in. Cornelius’s shoulders slumped. ‘I suppose it was because of Beatrice.’
‘I think she did suspect something.’
‘You know the stupid thing is, Beatrice and I didn’t even sleep together,’ Cornelius said. ‘Oh, I was besotted with her all right. And she did have a big influence on my attitude then, I was so confused about everything. But I never slept with her. I had never been unfaithful to Martha and some part of me wanted to try to preserve that, even though things were going so badly between us. Damn!’ He slammed his hand on the table so the coffee cups clattered. ‘Damn!’
‘That’s why Martha went to Kupugani. To meet Benton. He spent a couple of days in Johannesburg and sneaked up there to meet her. The authorities covered it up. That’s why Martha mentioned Benton in the letter to her mother that Todd found. And that’s also why Benton lied to me.’
‘Benton Davis, the two-faced, slimy bastard! All those years we worked together, all that arse-kissing he went in for, and all that time he knew he’d screwed my wife.’ He shook his head. ‘I guess it was my fault.’ The anger subsided a notch. ‘OK. So who did kill her, then? You’ve found out so much about my family so far, but can you answer that question?’
‘No,’ Calder said. ‘It could be the Laagerbond. I had a nasty experience with Andries Visser which suggests that they are capable of violence. Or it could have been the police. Or, well...’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, it’s just a suspicion.’
‘Edwin?’
Calder shrugged. ‘Maybe. I don’t know. I do know he tried to blackmail someone into stopping me asking awkward questions.’
‘Blackmail who? You?’
‘It’s not me. In fact I’d rather not say who it is, or what he’s got on them. Although if Edwin has his way, you’ll find out soon enough.’
Cornelius frowned. ‘Don’t tell me.’ His face was grim. ‘I’m not altogether surprised. I’ve always suspected him of blackmailing Lord Scotton somehow when we took over the Herald; the way Scotton sold out to me instead of Gill never made any sense.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve put far too much trust in Edwin over the years.’
‘One thing’s for sure,’ Calder said. ‘Benton knows a lot more about all this than he has told me.’
‘You’re dead right, the bastard.’ Cornelius’s fingers drummed the table. ‘Let’s find out what he does know.’ He pulled out his own mobile phone and pressed some buttons. ‘Benton?... Sorry to interrupt your weekend... That’s right, I’m in Johannesburg. Look, I really need you down here as soon as possible... I can’t talk about it over the phone. It’s delicate... No, just you... I’m staying at the Intercontinental in Sandton... Good, we’ll have breakfast together tomorrow morning.’