Hyena Dawn (66 page)

The headline was, ‘Sudden Death of American Diplomat in Paris.’ ‘Mr John Fry,’ the article ran, ‘former economic adviser to the American Embassy in South Africa, died suddenly last week in Paris. A statement from the American Embassy here maintains that foul play is not suspected. Evidently Mr Fry had been ill for some time.’

Rayne folded up the paper and looked at Sam. ‘At least it’s a small measure of vindication for Michael Strong and all the others who died.’

‘
I thought you’d be pleased.’

Rayne looked across at the postcard on the corner of his desk. It was from Deon and Sonja, on honeymoon in the Seychelles. He knew the news would please them too.

‘
Sam, I’m going to take a walk.’

‘
It’s raining . . .’ But she didn’t continue her protest, and smiling, watched him go.

She loved this house in the Magaliesburg Mountains outside Johannesburg. She was here as Bruce Gallagher’s guest - welcome to stay here with Rayne for as long as she liked. She got on well with Bruce Gallagher, and was glad that he seemed to understand what his son was going through.

She remembered Deon and Sonja’s wedding ceremony a week before. How she had wished that it could be her and Rayne. She’d never wanted children before, but now she wanted them desperately.

Sam watched Rayne’s straight back as he walked up the slope towards the top of the hill. She looked down at the books on his desk. She had no doubt that he would achieve his goal, that he would one day become the brilliant advocate he so longed to be. But there were other things that she was more concerned about. She knew that he was still in conflict with his past.

She stared after him, praying that he might find some peace within himself, might finally understand that life was for living.

As he neared the summit, the rain pelted down and lightning crashed round him. Storm clouds filled the horizon, and the parched lands beneath drank up the rain. There was nothing up here except himself and the elements, and he was reminded again of the violence on the roof of the Goldcorp Building.

Slowly a faint smile spread across his face. It was Fry who had died, not him. Aschaar who had died, not him.

He thought again of those last terrible moments with Aschaar; of Mozambique, and the men who would never return. He thought of the day - so long ago it seemed now - when he had killed his own men in the bush. All his adult life had been spent gathering knowledge of death and war, a knowledge not worth having.

Now he wanted to become a part of his own country again, to fight for a future free of violence and corruption. He would spend the rest of his life fighting injustice.

Rayne stood for a long time on the summit of the hill. Then he started to walk back to the house.

Now, at last, he knew that he was at peace with himself. The violence was a part of his past. He had a duty to the men who had died, a duty to live.

It was time to tell Sam how much he loved her.

The walk turned into a run.