Chapter 5

Bushy and I never did get to join Roxy and Andrea in the pool. No, I think mother nature had a hand in it. That little foggy cloud on the horizon morphed into a heavy overcast by the time I was finished with all my telephone calls.

The heavy cloud darkened the sky but did not damp the spirits of those in the pool. The two bottom floors of the building were occupied by other unit owners and thus some kids were in the pool together with Andrea and Roxy. Their racket rocketed up right into the balcony.

Well, that went on up until a thunderclap echoed across the landscape; the rumbling sound running off into the distance, echoing off the cliffs and hills. There were a few yelps from the vicinity of the pool, and the sound of splashing water. A few minutes later, two very wet towel-wrapped girls dripped on the tile floor of the lounge.

“Jeez! Roxy says that is thunder!” Andrea exclaimed, shivering a bit.

“Yes, and I forgot you Capetonians are not used to thunder and lightning,” Bushy commented.

“Go take a shower, you two. Just now you catch something serious and fatal,” I interjected.

“Good idea!” Roxy replied and made for the shower in her and Bushy’s room. I thought they were an item, and the shared room confirmed it. Andrea skipped off to her bedroom, leaving wet footprints on the tiles.

“Watch that you don’t slip!” I warned, but she was around the corner, and I heard her bedroom door close.

“I suppose that’s the end of our braai...” I changed topics.

“Nah, just you watch!” Bushy replied, and he proceeded to move over to a control panel at the sliding doors to the balcony. “This is how Ash does it.”

He pressed a button on the control panel, and the balcony roof started closing. Driven silently by its electrical motors, it expanded like a louvre-type Venetian blind, covering the south part of the balcony.

“Gee! Now that is something,” I observed.

“We can close the other half too, if you wish?”

“Yeah, maybe we should. Keep the giggle-squad dry...” I chuckled, and Bushy closed the north part of the roof as well, effectively enclosing the balcony.

“See! This is how we keep dry. Prepare to devour a braai and still hear the ocean surf on the beach.” he remarked. “Do you want something to quench your thirst so long? I think the girls will be awhile...”

“Yes, let me go get us something. Will beer do okay?”

“Beer will be good. I’ll probably hover on it for a while. I’m not much of a beer drinker.”

“Same with me. I drink for pleasure, not pain!” and with that I went off to fetch us each a brew.

About the same time at the offices of Miller & Miller Attorneys, Greyton.

The night was closing in. Long shadows had crept over the village as the sun sank behind the Riviersonderend Mountain range. Here and there the yellow glow of electric lights shone behind drawn curtains. The stock animals had long ago made their way home to stables and kraals.

Edgar Miller was finishing up the few things on his desk. The estate of the late uncle Willem Botha was awaiting a letter from the Master of the Supreme Court. Edgar expected that within the next day or two.

Then there was the matter of Aunty Mathilda suing Uncle Edward for damages incurred by his cattle breaking the fence and trampling her vegetable garden. A thousand Rand damage plus cost. Yeah, the cost being two-thousand four hundred Rand so far.

Edgar’s cell phone vibrated on the desk next to him. He picked it up and peered at the display. “Private number.” Well, it could be a prospective client.

“Edgar Miller. Good evening. How can I help you?”

“Good evening, Mister Miller. It’s not what you can do for me. It’s what I could do for you,” The voice said.

“And I am speaking to whom?” Edgar replied.

“The name is Erich. Erich Eberlin, from the firm Goldwin Eberlin Investment Trust in Cape Town. I represent a client who has a proposal for you.”

“A proposal?”

“Yes, a proposal.”

“And what proposal would that be, Mister Eberlin?”

“My client wishes to purchase your practice. Email with the offer would follow our discussion,” Erich said, and Edgar laughed.

“I, no let me rephrase, my brother and I, would not be interested in any offer to purchase.”

“Oh, but I do think that you should consider this offer, Mister Miller. It may be very beneficial to you. Better than directing cars at the local U-Save in Caledon.”

Edgar’s blood ran cold. Did that little upstart really want to go ahead with his threat?

“And why should I need to direct cars at U-save, my learned friend?”

“After the South African Law Council scratches you from the roll for cause, you will be a little compromised for employment, my learned friend.”

“And why should the SALC scratch me from the roll?”

“Come now, Mister Miller, we both know the truth about the goings-on between you and Quad Five Investments.”

And there it is again: the reference to Quad Five. Damn! Ever since that young upstart came to town and befriended the Louw bitch, everything went south.

“My brother is a partner in this practice, and he needs to be part of these negotiations, else, I, and on behalf of my brother, must reject this offer.”

“You don’t even know what the offer entails, Mister Miller,” Erich pointed out.

“Then what is the offer, Mister Eberlin, and who is the client?”

“Come now, Mister Miller, my client will stay anonymous until the deal goes through, in which case he will identify himself. What the offer entails ... let’s say it will be worth your while and provide a nice retirement fund after you pay out your brother, and the taxes, of course.”

“It sounds tempting but send the mail and let me pass it by my brother.”

“There’s a condition to this offer, Mister Miller. The condition being that YOU, Mister Miller, go into retirement. The rest of the staff and your brother will be free to either leave or join the new practice.”

“And if we decide to not take the offer?”

“U-save parking area, Caledon, seems an option. It’s either sell or be taken over and scratched from the roll.” Erich said. “The mail will follow. And, oh yes, this offer expires by midday tomorrow. Good evening, Mister Miller; a pleasant evening to you,” Erich said and broke the connection.

“Edgar sat motionless behind his desk. Things were going so well. He nearly made four million on the previous three farms, and now stands to make two million on the last farm, the Louw farm. But that young upstart, what’s his name? Arno De Lange? Yes, Arno De Lange. He has started something that can really muck things up.

And with whom did he speak about this? Even if Quad Five can get rid of him and the girl, there are others that know. This thing will snowball, and he will eventually be caught out; losing his licence to practice and even losing his business. And if the Assets Forfeit Unit gets in on the act, he will also stand a chance to lose his house, his car, and his investments. Then he really will have to go direct cars parking at the U-Save Parking lot.

Edgar sighed. Should he just count his blessings and sell out to this Erich Eberlin’s client?

Is it worth fighting them? It seems like Quad Five itself is at a loss to stop this De Lange guy. What now? How to proceed? He is sixty-three years old; the right age to ... retire ... before he gets humiliated. What about Quad Five? How can he escape them? They can reach everywhere. Maybe, just maybe ... he must seek his alliance some place else?

Camps Bay. A house in a street on the upper slopes of the Twelve Apostles Mountains.

The night comes slowly in this part of South Africa. Sometimes, during high summer, the sun dips its deep orange head under the sea at around 19:20. Even the twilight is long, fading to dark night only around 20:50 to about 21:05.

Right now the Atlantic Ocean to the west was looking-glass flat, the setting sun painting a long golden-orange light streak on the surface of the sea, and not a cloud to be seen in the sky.

Behind the lavish house in Woodhead Close, just around the corner from the Kramat Mazar of Sheik Ali Sayed Bassier, the Twelve Apostles Mountains reach up 750 metres above sea level. The range is just over six kilometres long and reaches from “Kloof Nek”, or the saddle between Table Mountain and Lions Head, almost to Hout Bay.

Looking out over Camps Bay, the range consists of eighteen peaks, with twelve of them easily distinguishable. Judas Peak, St. Luke’s Peak, and St. Peter’s Peak are the most prominent of the sandstone buttresses that form the back of Table Mountain, along the north-western shore of the Cape Peninsula, covering some of the most scenic stretches of coast in the world.

During the time of the Dutch rule of the Cape of Good Hope, the mountain range was named “Kasteelbergen,” (Castle Mountains) or “Gewelbergen.” (Gable Mountains.)

But the serenity of the scene did nothing to stem the concern and worry in Ludwig Aldermann’s mind. The cell phone in his hand felt hot and heavy.

“It’s impossible! Did you see them?”

“They drove out of the parking lot just as we came in. It was them. The car, the blond girl and the guy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! The car number was CAA 787-10 WP, just like you said.”

“Where are they now?”

“They turned towards Vredendal, still further up the N7, then disappeared. By the time we turned around to follow them, they were gone.”

“Dammit! This is a wild goose chase. Come back. Just leave them!” Ludwig said into the phone and cut the connection.

This is the second group he sent out to verify that the bitch, and the asshole, were in Lamberts Bay.

So, they have been seen and were identified. They are in Lamberts Bay. Yet they were seen in George and in Shelly Beach KZN, as well, the blue BMW, the blond girl and the guy. How the hell can they be in three places at the same time?

Credit card transactions were conducted in all three of those locations! All transactions within an hour of each other! Then again, and again! West Coast, South Coast, and East Coast. All at the same time!

But there was something else cooking. Someone, or rather four anonymous some-ones, had bought 30% of the shares in Quad Five Investments. Although Ludwig still owns 40% of the shares, the controlling interest in the company -30%- going to two or four shareholders spells trouble.

He just hopes it was the shares he made available to his employees, and that the employees bought up those shares. It was to be an incentive to keep his employees’ loyalty. But why did only four people buy shares, and then a total of 30%?

Ludwig’s plan was that he would keep his 40% interest and let the sixteen employees each get one or two shares.

Before he could analyse the situation further, his phone rang. It was his financial adviser.

“Yes!” He answered curtly.

“I hope you have a reason why you’re in a foul mood. Else I am going to push you further up the cardiac arrest curve.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know of a company called ‘Goldwin Eberlin Investment Trust (Pty) Ltd?”

“No! Never heard of them.”

“Well, neither did I, but they just announced that they are interested in purchasing stock in Quad Five.”

“What!”

“Well, it seems like they are listed on the London Stock Exchange, but I can’t get conformation until the markets open in London and Europe.”

“Dammit! Dammit! Why now?”

“Well, look on the bright side, they did us a favour. Tomorrow when the markets open, our stock price is going up!”

“What did they say in this announcement?”

“Just that they want to invest in South Africa, and that they looked at some of the local up-and-coming companies, like Quad Five Investments. I’ll email you the press release...”

“Yeah ... Yeah, do so ... For duck’s fake, ‘up-and-coming’! Quad Five ain’t up-and-coming, we are here! The audacity!”

“Calm down. Wait until they contact us, then we look at their proposal and take it from there. It looks like they are serious.”

“Okay.”

“Just before the JSE closed at 17:00, five separate transactions went through, and 30% of Q5 shares were purchased. Two transactions by an E. Eberlin and two by a D. Goldwin...”

“That’s it! Someone is trying to muscle in on our business. But why?”

“Well, a further 25% of our shares were purchased by someone named A.B. De Lange, a South African. Ludwig, that is 55% of our shares! How did it happen? I told you to not make that many shares available to the staff!”

“Dammit!”

“Well, I just wanted to let you know. I’ll send that email now. Good night, Ludwig.”

“Yeah ... good night...” But his mind was somewhere else ... A.B. De Lange? Why does it sound so familiar?

He took his phone again and dialled a number. It rang for a while, and he was just about to disconnect when it was answered.

“Yes, Ludwig, what is it now...?” Edgar Miller sighed.

“Who did you say that guy was that threatened you with Law Council?”

“De Lange, Arno De Lange. Why? I thought you dealt with him and the girl.”

“Arno De Lange ... Driving that blue BMW...?”

“Yes! I told you his name. But it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m out of it. I want no part of your shady deals.”

“Edgar Miller, you can’t just pull out. You have contractual and professional obligations.”

“Says who?”

“Says I!”

“Well, discuss it with the new management. I just sold my practice!”

“You did what!”

“Sold my practice.”

“To whom?”

“Erich Eberlin, of Goldwin Eberlin Investment Trust.”

Tightness took hold of Ludwig’s chest; and a burning sensation welled up in his head. A fire took hold of his chest and everything in the room started to look like a red misty veil was drawn over it.

Ludwig’s hand opened, and the cell fell onto the thick carpeted floor. He wanted to get up, open a window and get fresh air. But as he got up his knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, clutching his chest and trying to rip the fire out, while the pulsing drumming in his ears persisted, becoming louder and louder...

Then quietness set in. The fire was still there, but Ludwig did not care as everything in the room before his eyes started to fade into blackness.

“Ludwig? Ludwig ... are you there? Ludwig ... answer me? Why do you want to know about De Lange ... Ludwig ... Oh well, he hung up...” Came out the speaker of the cell phone lying on the off-white luxury Karastan carpet.

A penthouse on the KwaZulu–Natal South Coast.

The embers of the fire glowed red-hot, and here and there flame fingers licked at the unburned wood. Now and again the coals sizzled as some residue from the braai grill dripped onto the red-hot coals. That fatty residue would then ignite a fresh flame and send a smoky tendril up into the fireplace chimney.

We four sat at the long dining table that was outside on the balcony, eating our supper and drinking the white wine that Bushy liberated from Ash’s “wine cellar”, with the words; “The boss won’t mind...” I must say, Ash keeps a good wine selection in his “cellar”. This bottle was the third one of the evening, and I made a note to replace it soon. Can’t let old Ash run dry, now can we?

The thunderstorm had long passed, and patches of moonlight broke through the cloud cover, lighting up the rolling waves in a sliver glow. The breaking surf shone grey-white in the light from the moon. The thunderstorm had left a little chill factor to the breeze that filtered over the balcony. Although the balcony roof was still closed, both girls had both gone back inside to dress a little warmer.

Bushy and Roxy had been telling us about their excursion to Somalia and how a girl named Darya and a guy named Ronny had found each other and how Roxy had helped to pull them together. Andrea was a little subdued, but did participate in the conversation.

“So you guys did actually run into some Somali Pirates?” Andrea asked at length.

“Oh, that was fun!” Roxy chuckled. “It was supposed to be me firing some live .50 rounds into the empty ocean, but then we spotted the pirates harassing a container ship, and I got to fire that five-oh on a live target!”

“How did it feel, Rox? Andrea asked.

“Better than sex! The adrenaline rush was awesome! I almost had orgasmed by just feeling the recoil of those guns and seeing the hits on that pontoon boat...”