Rage - Smith Wilbur (книги читать бесплатно без регистрации .TXT) 📗
The middle pages were mostly filled with public reaction to the campaign and to the government's counter measures. It was too soon for the foreign reactions, but local opinion seemed almost unanimous: condemnation of the barbaric murder of Sister Nunziata, and high praise for police courage and the swift action of the minister of police in crushing the communist-inspired plot.
The editor wrote: We have not always been able to commend the actions and utterances of the Minister of Police. However, the need finds the man and we are thankful this day that a man of courage and strength stands between us and the forces of anarchy -Tara's reading was interrupted by the used car salesman. He bustled back into the tiny office to fawn on Tara and to gush.
'My dear Mrs Courtney, you must forgive me. I had no idea who you were, or I would never have subjected you to the humiliation of querying your cheque." He ushered her out to the yard, bowing and grinning ingratiatingly, and held open the door of the 1951-model black Cadillac for which Tara had just given her cheque for almost a thousand pounds.
Tara drove down the hill and parked on the Donkin overlooking the sea. The military and naval outfitters were only half a block down the main street and from their stocks she picked out a chauffeur's cap with a glossy patent-leather peak and a dove-grey tunic with brass buttons in Moses' size which the assistant packed in a brown paper bag.
Back in the new Cadillac she drove slowly down to the main railway station and parked opposite the entrance. She left the key in the ignition and slipped into the back seat. Within five minutes Moses came out. He was dressed in grubby blue overalls and the police constable at the railway entrance did not even glance at him. Moses sauntered down the sidewalk and as he drew level with the Cadillac, Tara passed the paper bag through the open window.
Within ten minutes Moses was back, the overalls discarded, wearing the chauffeur's cap and smart new tunic over his dark slacks and black shoes. He climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.
'You were right. There is a warrant out for your arrest,' she said softly.
'How do you know?" 'There is a newspaper on the seat." She had folded it open at the report on his arrest. He read it swiftly, and then eased the Cadillac out into the traffic stream.
'What are you going to do, Moses? Will you give yourself up and stand trial?" 'The courtroom would be a platform from which to speak to the world,' he mused.
'And if you were convicted, the gallows would be an even more riveting pulpit,' she pointed out acidly, and he smiled at her in the rear-view mirror.
'We need martyrs - every cause must have martyrs." 'My God, Moses, how can you speak like that? Every cause needs a leader. There are many who would make fine martyrs, but very few who can lead." He drove in silence for a while and then he said firmly, 'We will go to Johannesburg. I must talk to the others before I decide." 'Most of the others have been arrested,' Tara pointed out.
'Not all." He shook his head. 'I must talk to those who have escaped. How much money do you have?" She opened her handbag and counted the notes she had in her purse.
'Over a hundred pounds." 'More than enough,' he nodded. 'Be prepared to play the grand lady when the police stop us." They ran into the first road-block on the outskirts of the city at the Swartkops bridge. There was a line of cars and heavy vehicles and they moved forward slowly, stopping and starting, until two police constables signalled them over and a young police warrant officer came to the passenger window.
'Good aernoon, Mevrou." He touched his cap. 'May we look i the boot of your car?" 'What is this about, officer?" 'The troubles, madam. We are looking for the trouble-makers wh, killed the nun and ate her." Tara leaned forward and spoke sharply to Moses. 'Open the boo for the policeman, Stephen." And Moses climbed out and held the lit open while the constables made a cursory search. Not one of then looked at his face, the chauffeur's uniform had rendered him miraculously invisible.
'Thank you, lady." The warrant officer waved them through and Moses murmured 'That was most unflattering. I thought I was a celebrity now." It was a long and arduous drive from the coast, but Moses drov{ sedately, careful not to give anyone an excuse to stop them ant question them more carefully.
As he drove he tuned the Cadillac's wireless for the South African Broadcasting Corporation's hourly news bulletin. The reception wa intermittent as the terrain varied, but they picked up one excitin item.
The Soviet Union supported by her allies had demanded an urgent debate in the United Nations General Assembly on the situation in the country. This was the first time the UN had ever shown an interest in South Africa. For that alone all their sacrifice had been worthwhile. However, the rest of the news was disquieting. Over eight thousand protesters had been arrested and all the leaders banned or picked up, and a spokesman for the minister of police assured the country that the situation was firmly under control.
They drove on until after dark when they stopped at one of the small Orange Free State hotels that catered mainly for commercial travellers. When Tara asked for board and lodging for her chauffeur, the request was taken as matter of course because all the travellers employed coloured drivers and) Moses was sent around the back to the servants' quarters in the hotel yard.
After the plain and unappetizing fare in the hotel dining-room, Tara telephoned Weltevreden, and $eon answered on the second ring.
They had returned from their hunting safari with Shasa the previous day, and were garrulous and excited. Each of the boys spoke to her in turn, so she was treated to three separate accounts of how Garrick had shot a man-eating lion. Then Isabella came on the line, and her sweet childish lisp tugged at Tara's heart, making her feel dreadfully guilty at her lack of maternal duty. Yet none of the children, Isabella included, seemed to have missed her in the least. Isabella was just as long-winded as her brothers in recounting 11 the things that she and Nana had done together, and the new dress that Nana had bought her and the doll that grandpa Blaine had brought back from England especially for her. None of them asked her how she was and when she was coming home to Weltevreden.
Shasa came on the line last, distant but friendly. 'We are all having a wonderful time - Garry shot a lion --' 'Oh God, Shasa, don't you tell me about it, I've already had three accounts of the poor beast's death." Within a few minutes they had run out of things to say to each other. 'Well then, old thing, take care of yourself. I see the uglies are cutting up rather rough on the Rand, but De La Rey has it well in hand,' Shasa ended. 'Don't get caught up in any unpleasantness." 'I won't,' she promised. 'Now I'll let you go in to dinner." Shasa liked to dine at eight o'clock sharp and it was four minutes before the hour. She knew he was already dressed and checking his watch.
When she hung up she. realized that he hadn't asked her where she was, what she was doing or when she was coming home. 'Saved me from having to lie,' she consoled herself.
From her bedroom she could look over the hotel yard, and the lights were on in the servants' quarters. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with loneliness. It was so chilling, that she seriously thought about creeping across the yard to be with him. It took an effort of will to thrust that madness aside, and instead she picked up the telephone again and asked the operator for the number at Puck's Hill.
A servant, with a marked African accent, answered and Tara's heart sank. It was vital that they find out whether the Rivonia house was still safe. They could be going into a police trap. 'Is Nkosi Marcus there?" she demanded.
