Countdown to Corruption. Glenn Edward Kirk

I will come with you but in my car. You will have to get a lift back.”

      There was no overwhelming desire to go home just yet but I certainly was not going to be trapped there without my own transport.

      We arrived and Jackson and I walked in together. There were eleven people sitting around a table waiting for us as Marlon arose and greeted me with his hand outstretched. Cordial enough I thought.

      I greeted them.“ Hello All, why the urgency?”

      “Good evening Charlie, I would like to introduce you to our business committee.”

      I remained silent. The strategy was to let matters take their course. I did not want to hear details of any business, be it social or commercial, that they so desperately wanted to discuss in my presence. A quick exit was planned with the intention of my never returning.

      “Well Comrades, it is a pleasure to have you all together tonight.”

      Bad start I thought to myself.

      “We are gathered here for a very special occasion. I will start with the background.”

      What have I let myself in for entered my mind.

      “As I said, I will start with the background. Each one of us, including you, Charlie, is painfully aware of the injustice and havoc apartheid has inflicted on the black majority in this country of ours. We are not here to try and rectify the political abnormalities. No, we are here to control and change the business sectors’ injustices and abnormalities.”

      I jumped to my feet, immediately on the defensive. “Hold it Marlon, you give me no choice but to leave immediately. It is obvious where you are going with this and herby advise you I will not be part of any conspiracy.”

      “Sit down you bloody idiot!!” he screamed across the table, “you ARE part of this and you WILL listen.”

      “I am getting out of here.” I moved towards the door. Two burly figures blocked my exit. I looked at Marlon and saw venomous hatred and burning anger in his face. I quickly calmed down. A calming and accepting approach was my only hope of getting away.

      “You are already part of this.” He dimmed the lights and a projector beamed images of me and the others on to a screen.

      “You see we have filmed all our meetings and with clever editing it is obvious you are participating and plotting.”

      I was shocked beyond belief. My stomach churned. A file was angrily thrown at me.

      “Take a look at this you little piece of shit.”

      I opened it. There were copies and originals of memo’s, confidential working papers and reports, all from the secret and private records of the Industrial Division of my Company. Jackson had done a good job. The implications were monstrously terrifying.

      “That one file is a miniscule part of a library we have created. A library documenting and recording the inner workings of twelve major South Africa companies. Yes, we have people in each company working for us. They are our understudies, with us preparing to take over when the revolution begins. We are not interested in participating in party politics. We WILL control the economy. The power WILL be in our hands.”

      “What about Mandela? Is he part of this?”

      “If Mandela is released he could be a problem. He might want to negotiate with the white regime but we will deal with that if and when the time comes. Back to now.”

      “Charlie you have no choice but to continue as one of us. It is one of two choices for you. You participate or get locked up as a political activist. The evidence against you is massive. According to that one file you have committed fraud on a grand scale. You face a life time behind bars or at the very least twenty years and you will never work again.”

      “I will not be part of this you bastard!”

      “There is no country you can run to. The ANC has informants and members in every corner of the world. Be warned, if you do not cooperate fully you put your wife and daughter at severe risk. You and your family will never be able to hide from us.”

      The enormity of my situation suddenly consumed me. My darling Sophie, my little girl was in serious danger. She was my everything. I looked around the room.

      “How do you see me contributing Gentleman?” I struggled with the words. Fear had taken over but determination to safeguard my little girl fuelled my resolve. I had to appear to agree with those around the table. These men were my enemy and had to be destroyed. A plan for their destruction must be the primary move in any strategy taken.

      “You will continue in your new position within the Steel Division ……. how do you think you got there……and do not make one false move. Remember we have members watching and reporting. Should we even suspect disloyalty your wife and daughter will disappear. You are far too intelligent a man not to do as we say. Your first instruction will be given to you in the morning.”

      I quickly got up and left and made my way home. What had he meant by saying “ how do you think you got there?” Was Hetherington part of this? It could not be. My mind raced. My life up till this moment had been relatively sheltered and somewhat stress free. Finding myself embroiled in fictitious claims of corporate espionage and surrounded by possible charges of high treason rocked my entire being. Was this the real world from which my parents had, at great expense, sheltered me? Twelve years of public boarding school had definitely been instrumental in controlling my perception of what the world was all about.

      As I approached the entrance to my house paranoia set in. A blue Volvo was parked on the opposite side of the road. Was I being watched? I turned and drove through my gates waiting to ensure they closed behind me, moved on, stopped at the front door, switched off my car and suddenly froze. Rachel was an emotional loose cannon and would never be able to handle this. Nothing could be revealed to her. In fact nothing could be said to anybody. Sharp focus and concentration was necessary to plan my way forward. Sophie was my priority, her safety paramount. “ Please God help me,” I prayed as I got out of the car.

      Chapter 3

      As soon as the Agent drove me up to the house I knew I was going to buy it.

      It was a sprawling 700 square meter thatched roof house with separate staff quarters and garages. Over 1200 square meters of thatch roofing. Rachel initially was not too keen but reluctantly agreed that with her decorating skills it could become a very special family home. Now looking up at it, all I saw was a highly vulnerable home and easy terrorist target. Terrorism was a rapid developing phenomenon in a divided South Africa and I had unwittingly set up home in a tinder box.

      “Control yourself Charlie,” I mumbled softly to myself. I entered the house . Rachel heard me and called out.

      “Hello darling , I will be down in a minute.”

      I went into the drawing room and headed straight for the drinks tray, poured out and downed a scotch but decided against a second. Alcohol was not a favourite of mine and clouded thoughts were not an option. Rachel walked in and I again realised there was absolutely no way I could explain our predicament and tell her about the events that preoccupied my mind without multiplying the problems facing us. An hysterical and out of control wife was a non starter for me. Formulation of my own plan and my own solution was the way to go. Outside help would lead to disaster.

      “You do not look too good. Had a tough day?” she asked.

      “Yes, there are matters that need my urgent attention and I have to be totally focused. Please understand, I will go straight to my study after supper.”

      “Luckily we have nothing on tonight. Anyway it is early to bed for me. Remember we have a dinner date with your boss tomorrow.”

      I flinched at the thought. Supper was dreadful. I could not eat, Rachel got annoyed, I left the table. I sat in my study, lights off, my mind racing.

      “Slow down Charlie,” I demanded of myself. Suddenly I thought of the Volvo parked across