Rage by Wilbur Smith Read Free Book Online

opposite the stock exchange and within yelling distance of Anglo-American Corporation’s head office, he hadn’t yet got around to building on it; any spare money in the company always seemed to be ear-marked for mining options or extensions or other income-producing enterprises.
    The young blood on the Courtney executive board was
judicially leavened with a few grey heads. Dr Twentyman-Jones was still there, in an old-fashioned black alpaca jacket and string tie, hiding his affection for Shasa behind a mournful expression. He had run the very first prospect on the H’ani diamond mine for Centaine back in the early twenties and was one of the three most experienced and gifted mining consultants in southern Africa, which meant the world.
    David’s father Abraham Abrahams was still head of the legal section, perched up beside his son, bright and chirpy as a little silver sparrow. His files were piled high on the table in front of him, but he seldom had to refer to them. With half a dozen other newcomers whom Centaine and Shasa between them had hand picked, it was a balanced and functional team.
    â€˜Let’s talk about the Courtney chemical plant at Chaka’s Bay first.’ Shasa brought the meeting to order. ‘How much meat is there in the beef against us, Abe?’
    â€˜We are running hot sulphuric acid into the sea at a rate of between eleven and sixteen tons per day at a concentration of one in ten thousand,’ Abe Abrahams told him matter-of-factly. ‘I’ve had an independent marine biologist do a report on it for us.’ He tapped the document. ‘It isn’t good. We have altered the pH for five miles along the coastline.’
    â€˜You haven’t circulated this report?’ Shasa asked sharply.
    â€˜What do you think?’ Abe shook his head.
    â€˜All right, David. What will it cost us to modify the manufacturing procedure on the fertilizer division to dispose of the acid waste some other way?’
    â€˜There are two possible modifications,’ David told him. ‘The simplest and cheapest is trucking the effluent in tankers, but then we have to find another dumping ground. The ideal solution is recycling the acid.’
    â€˜Costs?’

    â€˜One hundred thousand pounds per annum for the tankers – one shot of almost three times that for the other way.’
    â€˜A year’s profits down the drain,’ Shasa said. ‘That’s not acceptable. Who is this Pearson woman that is heading up the protest? Can we reason with her?’
    Abe shook his head. ‘We have tried. She is holding the whole committee together. Without her they would crumble.’
    â€˜What is her position?’
    â€˜Her husband owns the local bakery.’
    â€˜Buy it,’ said Shasa. ‘If he won’t sell, let him know discreetly that we will open another bakery in competition and subsidize its product. I want this Pearson woman far away and long ago. Any questions?’ He looked down the table. Everybody was busy making notes, nobody looked at him and he wanted to ask them reasonably, ‘All right, gentlemen, are you prepared to spend three hundred thousand pounds to give a good home to the oysters and the sea urchins of Chaka’s Bay?’
    â€˜No questions!’ he nodded instead. ‘All right, let’s take on the big one now. Silver River.’
    They all shifted in their seats, and there was simultaneous and nervous exhalation of breath.
    â€˜Gentlemen, we have all read and studied Dr Twentyman-Jones’s geological report based on his drilling on the property. It is a superb piece of work, and I don’t have to tell you that it’s the best opinion you’ll get on Harley Street. Now I want to hear from each of you your own opinions as departmental heads. Can we start with you, Rupert?’
    Rupert Horn was the junior member of the executive team. As Treasurer and Chief Accountant he filled in the financial