Isiginali

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

The Afrikaner gangsters stood outside the Michelangelo hotel waiting for the valet to return with their vehicle. Marais was still fuming from their fruitless meeting. That old bastard Hulley had invited them to Sandton with the sole intent of embarrassing them. If they were to have met in any other part of the city, his ‘offer’ would have been seen as a declaration of war. The valet returned with Marais’ white Rolls Royce Phantom. He inspected it—making certain there wasn’t a hint of a scratch on it. Sheytler approached the driver’s side and handed the valet a fifty before getting in.

“Thank you sir.”

Marais waited with an odious expression for the imbecile to come round and open the passenger side door for him. And this was a person who expected to be paid for his service.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, sir.”

He stepped into the Phantom without uttering a response. Once the door was closed, Sheytler slammed his foot on the gas and they were off. In Sandton, there were numerous construction sites with the logo HHI, Inc., prominently displayed on them. He had been seeing the same in downtown Joburg for years. Hulley was making big moves right under everyone’s noses.

“Look at this shit.” Marais said in Afrikaans. “If that old man thinks he can root me out of my business, he’s got another thing coming.”

“You say the word and I’ll put two in his skull.”

Marais smiled. He tapped Sheytler on the arm. His loyalty was to be admired. They had come up the hard way in this country and now that they had finally found their footing, here came some decrepit Rhodesian flikker, trying to strongarm them. The Rhodesian military pendant he wore on his suit jacket was a tell-tale sign. He was sending them a message from the moment they walked into the restaurant. The arrogance of it all.

The Brits and their anglosphere cousins seemed to possess an air about themselves—believing that they were the pinnacle of whiteness. Anyone who would dare challenge them was deemed a threat. Which was why they tried everything under the sun to strip the Afrikaner of the spoils they so richly enjoyed. They were clever in their ability to frame a narrative. No matter how many African nations they were kicked out of, the Brits were hailed as heroes to the continent—in relation to the rogue Afrikaner. Just pure unadulterated poppycock of the highest order. The truth was, the Anglos would never accept the reality that South Africa was conquered and ruled by those of Dutch ancestry. That was why they worked so hard to destroy what they themselves had proven incapable of building.

Their follies in Uganda, Zimbabwe and Sudan were a dead giveaway. If global supremacy wasn’t going to succeed for the British crown, then the same fate would apply to everyone else who tried. They were a jealous lot. As the Americans would say, they were fuckin’ haters.

“We’re not there yet. “Marais said. “But it may come to that. In the meantime, we’ll make sure the boys are ready.”

“Copy that.”

They returned to the city proper in less than twenty minutes. The traffic was fading as they were headed back downtown. The HHI, Inc logos were even more noticeable than before. So much of the area was undergoing revitalization.

Who was Hulley trying to fool? The vast majority of South African citizens would never be able to afford the residences that were being built in this part of the city, unless his intention was to have them abandon Durban or the Western Cape. Just another old English man with big money and big dreams.

Situated among the numerous buildings that were still under construction was the Englebrecht. An older, boutique hotel, that stuck out like a sore thumb. There was a line of people waiting to enter the building. Armed security kept them from turning into an angry mob.

To the untrained eye, one might have assumed that this was an underground nightclub of sorts. To the contrary, this was one of Marais’ most notorious drug dens. A place where the rich and the poor congregated to fulfill their every carnal desire. It was pay for play at the Englebrecht. However, if the customers came with enough rand—the world was their oyster. For a night at least.

“Looks like a busy night.” Sheytler said.

“That’s my favorite kind.”

Sheytler drove past the building and made a left turn into the private parking garage that led below the hotel. The Rhodesian had almost succeeded in ruining his night, but Marais was not about to give him the satisfaction. Their decision to leave when they did should have clued him in on that. They were not the type of men to be trifled with.