Countdown to Corruption. Glenn Edward Kirk

ection>

      Dedication

      To my daughter Henrietta.

      Chapter 1

      A flicker of discomfort swept across his face. So that is what this is all about. He has a problem with his “Jewishness”. I, a devout Anglican, was about to be married to his daughter in the Johannesburg Anglican Cathedral, St. Mary’s, and he was anxious about her Jewish heritage! Rachel had been christened and confirmed in the Christian faith and yet he still had a hang-up about the family background. I kept quiet. No point in pursuing a matter, the relevance of which, belonged to the distant past. He was a rather large man with a steadfast belief in his own importance which left me baffled by his religious discomfort.

      My name is Charlie Hall and I was in Johannesburg, invited by my future father-in-law to a one on one lunch. I had flown in from London two days earlier with the wedding scheduled to take place in five days time. I had chosen my groomsmen, the majority of whom had travelled with me from London, and Sir Frederick had regimentally organised the rest. It suited me, after all he was the one carrying most of the cost!

      The wedding day rushed at us with great pomp and circumstance…drinks...dinners…opening of gifts and, of course, the signing of our prenuptial agreement. We were both twenty two years of age with some assets. Both sets of parents had insisted on this and my wife to be, Rachel, and I agreed. I owned a rather fine Georgian house in London, our marital home to be, but the combination of love and exuberance of youth could have missed the importance of individual asset protection.

      Finally the big day arrived amidst great excitement and last minute attention to detail. Brief panic set in when it was discovered the bride’s dress had not arrived but a quick call to the designer sorted the problem out. It had been delivered to the wedding venue and not Rachel’s home, an error quickly and easily rectified. The wedding ceremony was very special for both of us. It was being held at St Mary’s Cathedral, a Romanesque style building designed by Sir Herbert Baker situated in the middle of Johannesburg. This created a logistical nightmare for Sir Frederick, particularly with the timeline allowed, but somehow he managed to pull it off without any major disruption and the guests all managed to travel safely with minimum stress to the reception venue. The wedding was a magnificent affair. His organisational skills were exceptional and everything went according to plan. It was as special as Rachel had envisaged and dreamed, she positively glowed and nothing could take the smile from her enraptured face. The time came to say farewell and we were soon boarding our flight for Rome and Milan. I wanted to give my new bride a never to be forgotten honeymoon and put an enormous effort into selecting destinations and arranging the itinerary. For me it was hugely exciting which did not diminish with Rachel’s reprimand of my being unduly selfish for not consulting her on the final arrangements! I was to collect my new car at the Alfa Romeo factory in Milan and then on to The Palace Hotel in St. Moritz before driving slowly back to London and my post-graduation studies, coupled of course with married life.

      As a student and bachelor London was my city of choice. I revelled in the sights, sounds and indeed smells of this magnificent metropolis. The stimulus to gather knowledge and enjoyment was ever present, with me seriously developing the enjoyment side. The perspective had changed but sharing it with my new wife was exciting and different. I later realised we were really two rather spoilt youngsters playing a game. It was fun.

      “Rachel, darling, I have invited six of my student friends for drinks on Friday. I want you to meet them.”

      She pouted ever so slightly.

      “Do we have to have them so soon? I only want to be with you,” she cried.

      This should have been a red flag of things to come but I ignored it. They came to the house and Rachel was her charming social self. The evening was a great success.

      The weeks went by and I found myself happily settled into a comfortable domestic routine. It was pleasantly satisfying. Rachel’s father and her mother Alice came to visit and the four of us enjoyed some of London’s finest restaurants and attractions. A good time was had by all. Soon we had to say good bye and settle back into our expanding daily timeline.

      “Rachel, my love, you have so much time on your hands. Why not take in some of the vast cultural delights London has to offer. It is three years since you lived here so get back into that investigative and fun mode you used to so enjoy.”

      “I have no friends here who can join me and you know I only want to be with you,” she winced.

      “You have your sister. Ask her to suggest something and the two of you go out and have a good time.”

      “NEVER….She spends her day running her children around and, besides, we do not have the same interests.” She hesitated. “ Let’s start a family.” I was speechless! Not in my wildest dreams had I expected this and swiftly responded with a controlled and calm approach hoping to make her see how impossible having a baby would be.

      Nine months later found us charging into University College Hospital as expectant parents. They had been nine difficult months. Rachel was impossible and dramatically self suffering. She had demanded my constant attention and from the moment I stepped through our front door, be it in the afternoon or early evening she would not let me out of her sight. The situation could only deteriorate, and it did.

      Our daughter was born at 6 pm. I was shell shocked. The labour had been long and when the pain became unbearable an epidural was a necessity. However a little girl was welcomed with love and joy into this complex world of ours. I was overwhelmed at being a father. Rachel beamed with exhausted pride. I held my daughter in my arms and a feeling of enormous love swelled within me, a feeling I would never forget. I arrived at the hospital the following morning and immediately sensed a change in my wife. The nurse motioned me to leave the room and followed me out. Rachel had shown no bonding with our little girl. It was explained to me that this was natural and relatively commonplace after an epidural and I was not to worry. It was a matter of time and all would soon be normal. After hearing this my initial panic subsided but I recognised I was in unchartered waters and decided to take a wait and see approach before discussing the problem with Rachel. The nurses’ prediction proved correct. The problem lasted no more than three days and once we were home everything happily settled and we started the next stage of our lives as parents.

      It took me another year to fully realise I had an emotionally immature wife, an expert manipulator but also a very good mother. She missed her friends and support system in Johannesburg , South Africa and was adamant we must live there. If my marriage was to continue I had no alternative but to accept her necessity to move. A month later we boarded the flight at Heathrow, destination Johannesburg. Our furniture, car and other personal belongings followed. Little did I know how my life was to change.

      Chapter 2

      Corporate life was enjoyable but challenging. The competitiveness among the younger management trainee staff demanded relatively long hours but also much interaction at a social level. Rachel was a major asset and as the months passed we found we were in great demand. She loved the popularity. My sleep pattern faltered but I quickly learned to readjust. We were both happy and the future looked promising. Promotion came a year down the line when I was chosen to be a personal assistant to Mr. Damian Hetherington, an executive director. I liked him. He was an Engineer, a brilliant negotiator and this, together with his entrepreneurial skills qualified him to run the Industrial Division. My job was to ensure everything operated smoothly in his office, to prepare for meetings and, most importantly, to learn as much as I could from him. I thrived in the environment. This was when I got to know Jackson.

      Jackson at that time was Hetherington’s personal driver and “dogs body”. He was officially an employee of the Corporation. He appeared to be a very affable chap but I soon learned that there was far more to him. I am particularly sensitive to peoples’ mannerisms and interaction with their surroundings. He had a remarkably quick appreciation and understanding of office matters and his ability to remember and mentally file all conversations and events was particularly noticeable. He appeared to be ever present although he spent quite a bit of time driving the Boss to and from meetings and generally around Johannesburg. It took