Rage - Smith Wilbur (читать книги онлайн без сокращений .TXT) 📗
Since first she had met him, Joe Cicero had been associated will danger and suffering and loss. There was always an aura of myster'.
and a passionless evil surrounding him. He terrified her. The ma] with him she had met for the first time that night. Joe Cicero ha( introduced him only as Raleigh, but Tara's heart had gone out t( him immediately. Although he was much younger, he reminded he so strongly of her own Moses. He had the same smouldering intensit,.
and compelling presence, the same dark majesty of bearing an( command.
i They came back a little after two in the morning, and Tara let them in and led them through to her own bedroom in the back area of the hotel.
'Raleigh will stay with you for the next two or three weeks. Then he will return to South Africa. You will provide everything he asks for, particularly the information." 'Yes, omrade, Tara whispered. Although she was the registered C owner and licensed proprietress of the hotel, the money for the purchase had been provided by Joe Cicero and she took her orders directly from him.
'Raleigh is the nephew of Moses Gama,' Joe said, watching her carefully with those expressionless black eyes as she turned to the younger man.
'Oh Raleigh, I didn't realize. It is almost as though we are one family. Moses is the father of my son, Benjamin." 'Yes,' Raleigh answered. 'I know that. This is the reason that I am able to give you the object of my mission to South Africa. Your dedication is proven and unquestioned. I am going back to Africa to free your husband and my uncle, Moses Gama, from the prison of the fascist racist Verwoerd regime to lead the democratic revolution of our people." Her joy dawned slowly with her understanding. Then she went to Raleigh Tabaka and as she embraced him she was weeping with happiness.
'I will give anything to help you succeed,' she whispered through her tears. 'Even my life." Jakobus Stander had only two classes on a Friday morning, and the last one ended at 11.30. He left the grounds of the University of the Witwatersrand immediately afterwards and caught the bus down to Hillbrow. It was a ride of only fifteen minutes and he reached his flat a little after midday.
The suitcase was still on the low coffee table where he had placed it the night before, after he had finished working on it. It was a cheap brown case made of imitation leather with a pressed metal lock.
He stood staring at it with pale topaz-coloured eyes. Except for the eyes, he was an unremarkable young man. Although he was tall, he was too thin and the grey flannel trousers hung loosely around his waist. His hair was long, flecked with dandruff, hanging over the back of his collar, and the elbows of his baggy brown corduroy jacket were patched with leather. Rather than a tie he wore a turtle-neck jersey with the collar rolled over. It was the self-consciously shabl uniform of the left-wing intellectual, adopted by even the Profess, of the Department of Sociology in which Jakobus was a senior le turer.
Without removing the jacket, he sat down on the narrow bed ai stared at the suitcase.
'I am one of the only ones left,' he thought. 'It's all up to me no They have taken Baruch and Randy and Berny - I am all alone." There had been less than fifty of them even in the best times.
small band of true patriots, champions of the proletariat, almost of them white and young, members of the young liberals or studen and faculty members involved in radical student politics at the Enl lish-speaking universities of Cape Town and the Witwatersran, Kobus had been the only Afrikaner in their ranks.
At first they had called themselves the National Committee ( Liberation, and their methods had been more sophisticated th Umkhonto we Sizwe and the Rivonia group. They had used dynami and electrical timing devices, and their successes had been many an heartening. They had destroyed power substations and railw switching systems, even a reservoir dam, and in the triumphal mood of those early days they had restyled themselves the Africa Resistance Movement.
In the end they had been destroyed in exactly the same manner Mandela and his Rivonia group, by the inefficiency of their aw security and the inability of the members who were captured by t security police to withstand interrogation.
He was one of the only ones left, but he knew that his hours ( freedom were numbered. The security police had taken Berny tw days ago and by now he would have talked. Berny was not made ( heroic stuff, a small pale and nervous creature, too soft-hearted fc the cause. Jakobus had argued against his recruitment, but that wa too late now. The bureau for state security had Berny, and Bern knew his name. There was very little time left, but still he procrastir ated. He looked at his wristwatch. It was almost one o'clock. Hi mother would be home by now, preparing his father's lunch. H lifted the telephone.
Sarah Stander stood over the kitchen stove. She felt tired an( dispirited, but she seemed always to be tired these days. The telephone rang and she turned down the hot plate of the stove, and wipe( her hands on her apron as she went through to her husband's stud> The room was lined with shelves of dusty law books that had one been a promise of hope to her, a symbol of success and advancemenl but now seemed rather to be the fetters that bound Roelf and her iJ penury and mediocrity.
She lifted the phone. 'Hello. This is Mevrou Stander." 'Mama,' Jakobus replied, and she gave a little coo of joy.
'My boy - where are you?" But at his reply her spirits plunged again.
'In the flat in Johannesburg, Mama." That was a thousand miles away, and her longing to see him devastated her. 'I hoped you were--' 'Mama,' he cut her off. 'I had to speak to you. I had to explain.
Something terrible is going to happen. I wanted to tell you - I don't want you to be angry with me, I don't want you to hate me." 'Never!" she cried. 'I love you too much, my boy --' 'I don't want Papa and you to feel bad. What I do is not your fault. Please understand and forgive me." 'Kobus, my son, what is it? I don't understand what you are saying." 'I can't tell you, Mama. Soon you will understand. I love you and Papa - please remember that." 'Kobus,' she cried. 'Kobus!" but the earpiece clicked and then there was only the hum of a broken connection.
Frantically she rang the exchange and asked to be reconnected but it took fifteen minutes before the operator called her back. 'There is no reply from your Johannesburg number." Sarah was distraught. She roamed around her kitchen, the midday meal forgotten, twisting her apron in her fingers, trying desperately to think of some way of reaching her son. When her husband came in through the front door she rushed down the passageway and threw her arms around his neck, and she gabbled out her fears.
'Manie!" RoeIf said. 'I will telephone him. He can send one of his men around to Kobus's flat." 'Why didn't I think of that?" Sarah sobbed.
The secretary in Manfred's ministry told them he was not available and would not be in again until Monday morning.
'What will we do now?" Roelf was as worried as she was.
'Lothie." Sarah brightened. 'He is in the police in Johannesburg.
Ring Lothie, he will know what to do." Jakobus Stander broke the connection to his mother, and jumped to his feet. He knew he must act quickly and decisively now. Already he had wasted too much time, they would be coming for him soon.
He picked up the suitcase and left the flat, locking the door behind him. He rode down in the lift, still holding the heavy suitcase, even though the handle cut into his fingers. There were two girls in the lift with him. They ignored him and chattered to each other all the w down. He watched them surreptitiously. 'It may be you, he through 'It could be anybody." The girls barged out of the lift ahead of him, and he follow slowly, walking lopsidedly because of the weight of the brown su case.
