Countdown to Corruption

By Glenn Edward Kirk

The Reader is introduced to Charlie Hall, a young Englishman, recently married, dealing with his first year as a Management Trainee in Corporate South Africa. He is invited to join a group of young South African men drawn from various associated industries to meet on a weekly basis for a social drink and general discussion. The agenda of these meetings changes and he quickly finds himself caught in a web of blackmail and corruption. Unable to extricate himself from this sensitive but explosive situation he becomes intimately involved in complex relationships across Africa, England and the United States. We are transported through a hub of terror, crime, rampant violent decimation of all wildlife and increasing discontent. The plot encompasses highly controversial solutions to Africa’s problems both political and financial and the sub-plots provide considerable insight into the challenges Charlie faces to achieve his objectives of a peaceful and united Africa.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: May 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781925819120

Book preview

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 me some time to fully appreciate the depth of Jackson’s knowledge and understanding of business within the Industrial Division. I was initially shocked and then fascinated. I mentioned it to Hetherington.

Yes, he is a gem isn’t he, he said. I said nothing.

Jackson and I slowly developed a reasonable friendship within the framework of apartheid South Africa. He started to confide in me, we became office buddies. I soon saw in him a certain envy of my position as a personal assistant to an Executive Director, a position I guessed he aspired to. Unfortunately the apartheid barrier prevented him ever achieving this. He disguised his anger but there were a few occasions when he let slip and I was sharply reminded of a deeper emotion within. I did not at first understand but later saw the root of the problem. It was my white security in an unjust society, a society that afforded me privileges built on vile prejudice and enforced by a fanatical government , a government that manipulated Christian beliefs to suit their ultimate aim of total oppression of all who were not Caucasian.

Hello darling, I casually said. I have told you about Jackson at the office. There is something intriguing about him and I would like us to have him for dinner one evening, something very casual.

Do not be ridiculous. You will only embarrass him .

Rachel, there is a deep hurt within him which I cannot fathom. I want to know what motivates him and genuinely believe he will open up in a comfortable atmosphere and besides, you are a professional at making people feel relaxed in our home. He is good company and can add another dimension to our rather cloistered and privileged life in Africa.

Absolutely not! came the determined and rapid reply.

Very well. I will invite him out for drinks and take it from there.

Looking back I now realise this was the start of our mutual disinterest in each other, an initial motivating factor which was to propel our marriage into a vacant sphere of distant neutrality.

Drinks with Jackson was pleasant but I could not dispel a feeling of uncertainty about the wisdom of this get-together. There was a lack of satisfaction and enjoyment that should have generated interesting and fun levels of interaction. He held back and displayed little enthusiasm. This was possibly due to the uncharacteristic situation of black and white not openly socialising in public. We could not simply walk into a bar and order drinks which resulted in Jackson suggesting we meet at a snooker club near our office. He was a member and the patio area would be tolerant of white visitors. Fortunately it was empty and I felt comfortable. It would not have been my venue of choice.

On parting Jackson said, that was really good Charlie. We must do it again, thanks. We left in different directions.

Little did I realise how this Wednesday socialising would impact on my life.

It was around this time that I began to notice a developing neurosis in Rachel. Her social life was paramount. Her sister Mary and husband David had moved to South Africa, a move that was essentially a business transfer. David, an old Harrovian, had joined the Guards after leaving school but, shortly before his marriage to Mary, changed careers and accepted a position in an investment company operating out of London. The official reason for the African transfer was to see how the Johannesburg branch operated within a much smaller market structure. It was obvious to me it was purely a manipulation on behalf of Sir Frederick to have his daughter near her parents. David was not an entrepreneur and it was blatantly obvious the career choice was wrong. He had little to say in the matter.

It soon became a reality to me that a deep jealousy existed within Rachel towards her sister. I was an only child and had never witnessed or experienced sibling rivalry. I tried to help but all reasoning fell on deaf ears. Finally it reached a climax. Mary was to host a party for her sisters’ birthday and naturally the guest list included most of our friends. Rachel went into total decline.

She wants to take over my friends, she cried.

Come on Rachel, friends that become cool towards us are not worthy of our loyalty and friendship. You are being ridiculous. Friendship spreads and you will enjoy Mary in your social circle.

NEVER!

We went to the party and it was a huge success. Rachel was extraordinarily charming and full of fun. We got home around 1.30 am. Within an hour she was having convulsions. I called our family doctor, Dr. Lawrence who fortunately was on call. He arrived within 20 minutes. I explained what had happened and the family dynamics. His examination was thorough, his diagnosis simple: Extreme stress and emotional trauma resulting from severe anxiety and jealousy regarding her sister. The social competitiveness in Johannesburg was appallingly destructive. A tranquilizer injected into her backside quickly sorted her out. The next day it was as if nothing had happened. It was an evening I would long remember.

I originally thought I had married a fascinatingly attractive woman filled with laughter and amusement. I had in fact married a vacuous girl living in a cocoon of little consequence and total foolishness. Rachel’s grasp of reality was non- existent. Her reading intellect extended only to Barbara Cartland novels which precluded any intellectual opinion and discussion on most subjects. She typified the silly female whose life revolved around ladies afternoon bridge and tennis parties, general gossip plus