Windfall

Desmond Bagley Windfall

Chapter 1

It is difficult to know when this business began. Certainly it was not with Ben Hardin. But possibly it began when Jomo Kenyatta instructed the Kenyan delegation to the United Nations to lead a move to expel South Africa from the UN. That was on the 25th of October, 1974, and it was probably soon thereafter that the South Africans decided they had to do something about it.

Max Stafford himself dated his involvement to the first day back at the London office after an exhaustive, and exhausting, trip around Europe – Paris, Frankfurt, Hamburg, Amsterdam, Milan. Three years earlier he had decided that since his clients were multinational he, perforce, would also have to go multinational. It had been a hard slog setting up the European offices but now Stafford Security Consultants, as well as sporting the tag 'Ltd' after the company name, had added 'S. A.', 'GmbH', 'SpA' and a couple of other assortments of initials. Stafford was now looking with a speculative eye across the Atlantic in the hope of adding 'Inc'.

He paused in the ante-room of his office. 'Is Mr Ellis around?'

Joyce, his secretary, said, 'I saw him five minutes ago. Did you have a good trip?'

'Wearing, but good.' He put a small package on her desk. 'Your favourite man-bait from Paris; Canal something-or-other. 'I'll be in Mr Ellis's office until further notice.'

Joyce squeaked. 'Thanks, Mr Stafford."

Jack Ellis ran the United Kingdom operation. He was young, but coming along nicely, and ran a taut ship. Stafford had promoted him to the position when he had made the decision to move into Europe. It had been risky using so young a man in a top post where he would "have to negotiate with some of the stuffier and elderly Chairmen of companies, but it had worked out and Stafford had never regretted it.

They talked for a "while about the European trip and then Ellis looked at his watch. 'Bernstein will be here any minute.' He gestured to a side table on which lay several fat files. 'Have you read the reports?'

Stafford grimaced. 'Not in detail.' Having determined to expand he had gone the whole hog and commissioned an independent company to do a world-wide investigation into possibilities. It was costing a lot but he thought it would be worthwhile in the long run. However, he liked to deal with people rather than paper and he wanted to match the man against the words he had written. He said, 'We'll go over it once lightly with Bernstein.'

Two hours later he was satisfied. Bernstein, an American, was acute and sensible; he had both feet firmly planted on the ground and was not a man to indulge in impossible blue sky speculation. Stafford thought he could trust his written reports.

Bernstein tossed a file aside. 'So much for Australasia. Now we come to Africa.' He picked up another file. 'The problem in general with Africa is political instability.'

Stafford said, 'Stick to the English-speaking countries. We're not ready to go into francophone Africa.' He paused. 'Not yet.'

Bernstein nodded. 'That means the ex-British colonies. South Africa, of course, is the big one.' They discussed South Africa for some time and Bernstein made some interesting suggestions. Then he said, 'Next is Zimbabwe. It's just attained independence with a black government. Nobody knows which way it's going to go right now and I wouldn't recommend it for you. Tanzania is out; the country is virtually bankrupt and there's no free enterprise. The same goes for Uganda. Now, Kenya is different.'

'How?' asked Ellis.

Bernstein turned several pages. 'It has a mixed economy, very much like Britain. The government is moderate and there is less corruption than is usual in Africa. The Western banks think highly of Kenya and there's a lot of money going into the country to build up the infrastructure – modernization of the road system, for instance.' He looked up. 'Of course, you'd have competition – Securicor is already established there.'

Securicor was Stafford's biggest competitor in Britain. He smiled and said, 'I can get along with that.' Then he frowned. 'But is Kenya really stable? What about that. Mau-Mau business some years ago?'

'That was quite a while ago,' said Bernstein. 'When the British were still there. Anyway, there are a lot of misconceptions about the Mau-Mau insurrection. It was blown up in the Western press as a rebellion against the British and even the black Kenyans have done some rewriting of history because they like to think of that period as when they got rid of the British oppressor. The fact remains that in the seven years of the Mau-Mau rebellion only thirty-eight whites were killed. If it was a rebellion against the British it was goddamn inefficient.'

'You surprise me,' said Ellis. 'Then what was it all about?"

Bernstein tented his fingers. 'Everyone knew the British would be giving up jurisdiction over Kenya – the tide of history was running against the British Empire. The Mau-Mau insurrection was a private fight among black Kenyans, mainly along tribal lines, to figure out who'd be on top when the British abdicated. A lot of people died and the few whites were killed mainly because they happened to be caught in the middle – in the wrong place at the wrong time. When it was all over, the British knew who was going to hold the reins of government. Jomo Kenyatta was intelligent, educated and had all the qualifications to be the leader of a country, including the prime qualification.'

'What was that?' asked Ellis.

Bernstein smiled. 'He'd served time in a British jail,' he said dryly. 'Kenyatta proved to be surprisingly moderate. He didn't go hog-wild like some of the other African leaders. He encouraged the whites to stay because he knew he needed their skills, and he built up the trade of the country. A while ago there was considerable speculation as to what would happen when he died. People expected another civil war on the lines of the Mau-Mau but, surprisingly, the transition was orderly in the democratic manner and Moi became President. Tribalism is officially discouraged and, yes, I'd say Kenya is a stable country.' He flicked the pages he held. 'It's all here in detail.'

'All right,' said Stafford. 'What's next?'

'Now we turn to Nigeria.'

The discussion continued for another hour and then Stafford checked the time. 'We'll have to call a halt now. I have a luncheon appointment.' He looked with some distaste at the foot-thick stack of papers on the desk. 'It'll take some time to get through that lot. Thanks for your help, Mr Bernstein; you've been very efficient.'

'Anything you can't figure out, come right back at me," said Bernstein.

'I think we'll give Africa a miss,' said Stafford thoughtfully. 'My inclination is to set up in the States and then, perhaps, in Australia. But I'm lunching with a South African. Perhaps he'll change my mind.'

Stafford's appointment was with Alix and Dirk Hendriks. He had met Alix a few years earlier when she had been Alix Aarvik, the daughter of an English mother and a Norwegian father who had been killed during the war. It was in the course of a professional investigation and, one thing leading to another, he had gone to North Africa to return to Britain with a bullet wound in the shoulder and a sizeable fortune for Alix Aarvik. His divorce was ratified about that time and he had contemplated marrying Alix, but there was not that spark between them and he had not pursued the idea although they remained good friends.

Since then she had married Dirk Hendriks. Stafford did not think a great deal of Hendriks. He distrusted the superficial veneer of charm and suspected that Hendriks had married Alix for her money. Certainly Hendriks did not appear to be gainfully employed. Still, Stafford was honest enough to admit to himself that his dislike of Hendriks might be motivated by an all-too-human dog in the manger attitude. Alix was expecting a baby.