He was up on the lonely pinnacle of command.
'We know there is gold down there,' he spoke at last. 'A thick rich reef of it. If we reach it, it will go on producing for the next fifty years. However, gold is standing at thirty-five dollars an ounce. The Americans have pegged it, they have threatened to keep the price there for all time. Thirty-five dollars an ounce - and it will cost us between twenty and twenty-five an ounce to go down that deep and bring it to the surface. A slim margin, gentlemen, much too slim." He lit the cigarette, and they all sighed and relaxed, at the same time disappointed and relieved. It would have been glorious to make the charge, but disastrous to have failed. Now they would never know. But Shasa hadn't finished. He blew a spinning smoke-ring down the length of the table, and went on.
'However, I don't think the Americans are going to be able to keep the lid on the gold price much longer. Their hatred of gold is emotional, not based on economic reality. I know, deep down in my guts, that the day is not far off when we will see gold at sixty dollars and one day, sooner than any of us think, it will be a hundred and fifty dollars - perhaps even two hundred!" They stirred with disbelief, and Twenty-man-Jones looked as though he might break down and weep in the face of such wild optimism, but Shasa ignored him and turned to Abe Abrahams.
'Abe, at noon on the eighteenth of next month, twelve hours before the option expires, you will hand over a cheque for four million to the owners of Silver River farms, and take possession of the property in the name of a company to be formed." Shasa turned to David.
'At the same time we will simultaneously open subscription lists on the Johannesburg and London stock exchanges for ten million œ1 shares in the Silver River gold-mining property. You and Doctor Twenty-man-Jones will start today drawing up the prospectus.
Courtney Mining will register the property in the name of the new company in return for the balance of five million shares transferred into our name. We will also be responsible for the management and development." Quickly, succinctly, Shasa laid out the structure, financing and management of the. new company, and more than once these wily seasoned campaigners glanced up from their notepads in blatant admiration of some deft and unusual touch he added to the scheme.
'Is there anything I have left out?" Shasa asked at the end, and when they shook their heads, he grinned. David was reminded strongly of the movie he and Matty had taken the children to see the previous Saturday afternoon, The Sea Hawk, though the eye-patch made Shasa look even more piratical than Errol Flynn had done in the title role.
'The founder of our company, Madame Centaine de Thiry Courtney-Malcomess, has never approved of the consumption of alcohol in the boardroom. However --' Still grinning, Shasa nodded at David, who went to open the main doors of the boardroom and a secretary wheeled in a trolley on which the rows of glasses clinked and the green bottles of Dam Perignon swished in their silver icebuckets. 'Old customs give way to new,' Shasa said, and drew the first cork with a discreet pop.
Shasa throttled back the Rolls Royce engines and the Mosquito sank down through the ribbons of scattered cirrus cloud, and the endless golden plains of the high African shield came up to meet her. Off to the west Shasa could just make out the clustered buildings of the mining town of Welkom, centre of the Orange Free State goldfields.
Founded only a few years previously, when the vast Anglo American Corporation began opening up these fields, it was already a model town of over a hundred thousand persons. ---Shasa-ttipT, ed hs-xygcrc mask. and lc .:t-dagle or} his kesa-s he leaned forward on his straps and peered ahead through the windshield ahead of the Mosquito's blue nose.
He picked out the tiny steel tower of the drilling rig almost lost in the immensity of the dusty plain, and using it as a landmark traced the gossamer thread of fences that enclosed the Silver River farms eleven thousand acres, most of it bare and undeveloped. It wa, amazing that the geologists of the big mining houses had overlooked this little pocket, but then nobody could have reasonably expected the gold reef to spur off like that - that is, nobody but TwentymanJones and Shasa Courtney.
Yet the reef was as far beneath the earth as the Mosquito nox circled above it. It seemed impossible that any human endeavom would be able to burrow down that deep, but already Shasa coulc see in his imagination the tall headgear of the Silver River mair towering two hundred feet above the bleak plain, with its shaf stabbing down a mile and more into the underground river of precious metal.
'And the Yanks can't hold out for ever - they will have to let golc go free,' he told himselfi He stood the Mosquito on one wing and on the instrument panel the gyro compass revolved smoothly. Shasa lifted the wing and she was precisely on her new heading of 125ø.
'Fifteen minutes, with these winds,' he grunted, as he marked the large-scale map on his knee, and the fine exaltation of spirit stayed with him for the remainder of the flight until he saw the dark pencilline of smoke rising into the still air dead ahead. They had put up a smoke beacon to guide him in.
There was a Dakota parked in front of the lonely galvanized ironclad hangar at the end of the strip. The big aircraft had airforce markings. The runway was of rolled yellow clay, hard and smooth and the Mosquito settled to it with barely a jolt. It had taken endless practice to develop that sort of distance judgement after he had lost the eye.
Shasa slid back the canopy and taxied towards the hangar. There was a green Ford pick-up near the mast of the windsock, and a lone figure dressed in khaki shorts aqd shirt stood beside the smoke pot, fists clenched on his hips, watching Shasa taxi up and cut the engines.
Then as Shasa jumped down, he stepped forward and offered his right hand, but his expression, solemn and reserved, was at odds with the welcoming gesture.
'Good afternoon, Minister." Shasa was as unsmiling and their grip was hard but brief. Then as Shasa looked deeply into Manfred De La Rey's pale eyes, he had a strange feeling of djd vu, of having stared into those same eyes in desperate circumstances before. He had to shake his head slightly to be rid of it.
'I am glad for both our sakes that you were able to come. Can I help you with your bags?" Manfred De La Rey asked.
'Don't worry. I can manage." Shasa went back to tie down and secure the Mosquito and fetch his luggage from the bomb bay, while Manfred doused the smoke pot.
'You brought your own rifle,' Manfred remarked. 'What is it?" 'Seven men Remington magnum." Shasa swung the luggage into the back of the truck and stepped up into the passenger door of the Ford.
'Perfect for this type of shooting,' Manfred approved as he started the truck. 'Long shots over flat ground." He swung on to the track and they drove for a few minutes in silence.
'The prime minister could not come,' he said. 'He intended to be here, but he sent a letter for you. It confirms that I speak with his authority." 'I'll accept that." Shasa kept a straight face.
'The minister of finance is here, and the minister of agriculture is our host - this is his farm. One of the biggest in the Free State."
'I am impressed." 'Yes,' Manfred nodded. 'I think you will be." He stared hard at Shasa. 'Is it not strange how you and I seem doomed always to confront each other?" 'It had crossed my mind,' Shasa admitted.
'Do you think there is some reason for it - something of which we are unaware?" Manfred insisted, and Shasa shrugged.
'I shouldn't think so - coincidence only." The reply seemed to disappoint Manfred.
'Has your mother never spoken about me?" Shasa looked startled. 'My mother! Good Lord, I don't think so.
She may have mentioned you casually - why do you ask?" Manfred seemed not to have heard, he looked ahead. 'There is the homestead,' he said, with a finality that closed the subject.