In the beginning of the.., p.1
In the Beginning of the Night, page 1
In the Beginning of the Night
Peter Rimmer
Contents
Also by Peter Rimmer
Foreword
1. Salisbury, Rhodesia 1966
2. Sundowners
3. Mana Pools
4. Secret Assignations
5. Devil’s Gorge
6. The Full Circle
7. Watchful Eyes
8. A Birds-Eye View
9. Cara Mia
10. Hide and Seek
11. The Deep Blue Sea
12. An Island Indaba
13. Flying Knives
14. Revenge
15. With the compliments of Safaris Limited
Cast of Characters
Dear Reader
About Peter Rimmer
Acknowledgements
Join Peter’s Band of Readers
Also by Peter Rimmer
* * *
The Brigandshaw Chronicles
The Rise and Fall of the Anglo Saxon Empire
Book 1 - Echoes from the Past
Book 2 - Elephant Walk
Book 3 - Mad Dogs and Englishmen
Book 4 - To the Manor Born
Book 5 - On the Brink of Tears
Book 6 - Treason If You Lose
Book 7 - Horns of Dilemma
Book 8 - Lady Come Home
Book 9 - The Best of Times
Book 10 - Full Circle
Book 11 - Leopards Never Change Their Spots
Book 12 - Look Before You Leap
Great Value Box Sets
The Brigandshaw Chronicles Box Set (Books 1-3)
The Brigandshaw Chronicles Box Set (Books 4-6)
The Brigandshaw Chronicles Box Set (Books 7-9)
The Brigandshaw Chronicles Box Set (Books 10-12)
* * *
Standalone Novels
All Our Yesterdays
Cry of the Fish Eagle
Just the Memory of Love
Vultures in the Wind
In the Beginning of the Night
The African Trilogy Box Set including Cry of the Fish Eagle, Vultures in the Wind and Just the Memory of Love)
* * *
The Asian Sagas
Bend with the Wind (Book 1)
Each to His Own (Book 2)
The Asian Sagas Duet Box Set (Books 1-2)
* * *
The Pioneers
Morgandale (Book 1)
Carregan’s Catch (Book 2)
The Pioneers Duet Box Set (Books 1-2)
* * *
Novella
Second Beach
Foreword
In the Beginning of the Night was a novel that my father, Peter Rimmer, began writing in 1966 and is thought to be one of his first pieces of work. It certainly is a departure, as far as we are aware, from most of his other novels, those being historical fiction, whereas this book is an adventure thriller. Peter was most assuredly honing his craft in his early years, so if you have read any of his later novels, like the Brigandshaw Chronicles, you will find the style of writing to be very different.
It is a story which will take you to a bygone era with places Peter definitely visited, most particularly the isle he and my mother, Rosemary, knew as Paradise Island in the Mozambique Channel. An island that was idyllic and adored by both. Sadly, it is no longer a tourist resort, but perhaps one day it may become so again.
We sincerely hope you enjoy this novel of adventure.
Heather Stretch
Kamba Publishing
December 2021
1
Salisbury, Rhodesia 1966
The “Fly CAA” sign had nothing but blue sky behind it. It looked down from the top of nineteen storeys on to a wide street of angle-parked cars that reflected the tropical sun. The street was wide enough to outspan two sets of oxen at the same time. The colours of summer dresses, and the people inside them, ignored this relevant fact as they dodged the streams of open-windowed cars going towards and away from the building that held up the Central African Airways sign. Below, the smaller, far less noticeable neon sign of Safaris (Pvt) Limited flashed a red strip around itself more in desperation than anything else. It was in hopeless competition with the glare of the sun.
The Safaris window display was a collection of travel brochures. Inside, Korina Prague looked, to the travel-hungry gazers on the wrong side of the plate-glass window, as if she enjoyed her job, although perhaps not as much as they enjoyed the sight of her. The two other girls among the spears and animal skins were almost as pretty. Around the walls were posters of lions that appeared half asleep but were full of eye-glint, elephants after mud baths and impala poised before flight from the click of a camera.
The movement of the young females was watched with interest by Herman Small as he waited to be served; he was able, he realised with particular satisfaction, to catch them from all angles as they moved from telephone to telephone. Korina Prague made him feel he was missing something, so he changed the weight of his body on to the other foot. The telephone nearest to him was a winner as she had to lean across the table towards him to pick it off the hook. It made him even more certain that his trip was going to be successful and that his father’s money was not going to be wasted. He moved his weight back on to the other foot as she smiled at him while still talking into the telephone. He didn’t listen to what she was saying. Her mouth was soft and full at the centre, the soft redness seemed to come out to him as she spoke. Her eyes were brown, large and compelling. She stood with her legs pressed against both sides of her green cotton skirt.
He could sense that other people were standing behind him but, with Korina Prague just two feet in front of him, he didn’t have enough curiosity to turn round.
Finally, she put down the receiver and turned to them all.
“Ah... I can see you’ve all arrived. I’m Korina Prague. Mr Dacks will be off the telephone in a moment. Won’t you all sit down. Welcome to Rhodesia.”
He could hear a foreign accent in her voice, slightly guttural, but hidden, though he didn’t know it, by the swallow-each-word technique of the Rhodesians. He continued to stare at her as she came around the desk; she ignored the renewed ringing of the telephones and walked into the centre of the group of passengers who had all been on Herman’s flight. One, Anna Featherstone, was a girl even younger than himself with all her ‘airs and graces’ intact; a type he recognised and disliked. There were four others. His eyes went to a woman of thirty with heavy make-up, who flaunted both her poise and the rings on her fingers. There was a large emerald on the third finger of Francine Mure’s left hand and, nearer the knuckle, a more reasonably sized solitaire diamond.
Korina Prague looked at the jewellery with appreciation and then smiled at the passengers in turn. Her message was felt by the men.
“I hope your flight from London was comfortable,” she said. “The VC10 is usually very good… Ah, Mr Dacks is off the telephone. Will you follow me?”
Herman Small watched the tight movement of her rear as it went away from him towards the open door and passed into the glass-fronted office that looked out directly at the girls and the telephones and customers of the Safaris enterprise. His view was obscured by Mrs Hall, a well-corseted, short woman with dyed grey hair and expensive clothes. She walked with confidence to an easy chair, sat down and took the cigarette and light from Mark Dacks as if she had rehearsed the part for a stage-play.
Francine Mure caught Mark Dacks’s eye and he wondered if the emerald was ever his; he smiled to himself, made his black eyebrows go up slightly and flicked the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue. She refused a First Lord cigarette from the copper cigarette box and immediately took a packet of menthol from her bag, ignoring his ignited lighter. He didn’t offer Anna Featherstone a cigarette because he didn’t believe in such things for one so young at the start of a tour.
The middle-aged Harold Ackit got in just before Herman Small; he was already smoking.
Herman made himself comfortable like the others, was grateful for the cigarette, and made a note not to inhale in front of so many people as the first drag usually turned him pale in the face and made his head fuzzy. His particular centre of interest, Korina Prague, stood behind the desk and leaned her thighs firmly against it; she wore neither jewellery nor rings.
The desk was clear of any papers. Two copper-bearing granite rocks, away from the clean blotting pad, were in one corner and a model meteor on a triangular stand was trying to take off from the other. A large, illustrated map of Rhodesia hung on the wall above Mark Dacks’s head and the blue area of Lake Kariba was prominent. To the right was a glass-fronted cabinet complete with rock samples. Mauve crystals of amethyst stuck cleanly and unnaturally from a chunk of quartz. The cabinet was locked. One wall had a headless leopard-skin nailed to the wooden partition next to a small door that looked innocent but wasn’t. The opposite wall, which would have led out on to the street wide enough to inspan oxen if it had had an opening, held up a framed picture of a low-level aerial photograph of Salisbury that showed off the skyscrapers to their best advantage. There was no wasted space in the room, which was just sufficient to seat five passengers.
Herman noticed Anna Featherstone’s well-shaped, medium-long legs and was surprised that his eyes had strayed from desktop level and the central attraction of Korina Prague. He decided that maybe he’d begun to expect too much from the trip but continued to enjoy what he could see for the moment. He knew what he wanted and knew there
Mark Dacks seated himself and imperceptibly brushed Korina Prague. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the watching, innocent passengers.
“Hello. I’m Mark Dacks and this is Korina Prague. Now, let me see if I can guess. Ah, you must be Mrs Hall.”
“How clever of you to know.”
Mrs Hall was in her sixties. She had fitted her cigarette into a stubby, workmanlike cigarette-holder and held it firmly from underneath, having taken it out of her mouth to speak. Her strong teeth clenched shut on the Bakelite again.
“And Mrs Cunningham.”
“I used to be Mrs Cunningham but I’m now Mrs Mure.”
“I’m sorry. And you are Miss Featherstone?”
“I think I’m the only girl left so you must be right.”
“Now, you must be Mr Ackit and you Herman Small. Good, now we all know each other. A car is waiting to take you to Meikles Hotel where you will spend the first night. You’ll have plenty of time to get some good sleep later and so be fit for the drive to Mana Pools tomorrow. No one enjoys anything if they are tired. The time is now nearly four o’clock, which will give you all time to change and be ready for a sundowner in my flat at six o’clock. You have paid a lot for this exclusive tour and though the friends who recommended it to you may have said it was worth every penny, we intend to prove it. Safaris never advertises. We rely on pleasing you, and on you and your friends coming back again. In the next six weeks we shall put five years of happy thoughts into your lives. This is a great country with everything to offer and I’ll promise you now that you’ll never forget it.”
‘And neither they will,’ thought Korina, ‘if they find out the true exclusiveness of the tour.’ She then caught Herman Small gazing at the area just above her thighs and pressed them into the lid of the desk. She felt good.
Mark Dacks couldn’t see any snags in the faces that looked at him. He took a cigarette for himself and considered that life was full of promise. He stood up to his full six feet, leaned his knuckles on the table and smiled at the room in general and then more particularly at the three women in turn. He decided that the younger one had promise. He also concluded, after looking at Francine Mure, that she must be an exceptional performer to have acquired so many rich husbands.
“The car will pick you up at six from the hotel. Dress how you like. We don’t waste time out here making ourselves uncomfortable unless it is necessary. There’ll be a buffet supper for those of you who’d like to stay. Make up your minds when you get there. It’s always better to be spontaneous. You won’t want to be back late at the hotel so this is why we’re starting early. I hope you all enjoy Rhodesia, and look forward to seeing you this evening.”
He came around the desk, treading firmly on the head of a badly cured leopard skin, pulled the door open and smiled them out towards the convertible Ford Galaxy that was waiting patiently beside the parking meter. He and Korina Prague exchanged glances as she followed the passengers towards the brilliant sunshine, then the smile faded from his face as the car slid away from the kerb and gave the CAA sign an interesting view of head-tops, dress-fronts and a sun-glinting bonnet. The exhaust fumes were lost in the moistureless brilliance of the highveld air.
2
Sundowners
“You look your most seductive in that outfit,” commented Mark Dacks. “I hope that lad doesn’t get too excited about the cleft in your dress or your curvy backside. Cultivate him, yes, but keep him under control.”
“You make this sound like the first time, Mark.” Korina Prague smiled at him.
“We must always think of it like that. It keeps the mind alert. They look a nice crowd and should enjoy themselves. I’ll answer the doorbell. You keep standing there and stun them in your green dress. That colour is definitely yours. It would be nice to see you wearing one of the emeralds but that can’t be helped.”
Mark Dacks moved easily towards the front door of his penthouse. His white tuxedo, with the red band around a strong waist, matched the sun-drenched furniture in the throes of evening. The sun hit in across the roof garden in its last deluge and picked out the rich redness of the thick Persian carpets on the well-polished mukwa floor, overpowering the violent colours of a large abstract over the cocktail cabinet. The oiled wood of the front door glinted from its cracks. The French windows behind gave out into the pure, almost coolness of early evening air. The scent of jasmine was strong, sweet and exotic.
The door opened to his pull and Mrs Hall saw all of this in the flash of what would always stay in her memory. The sun bathed her harshly and picked out her age.
“I’m glad you got here first,” said Mark Dacks. “It means we can have a quick drink before the others arrive. Please come in. You must have caught a taxi.”
“No, I walked. I enjoyed myself. People were helpful and told me the way. The red flowering trees are quite lovely. I enjoyed the square with the fountain too. You have a beautiful city.”
“I think so too, but then I’m biased. This is my country. What will you drink? How about a dry martini? In a week’s time you’ll want a longer drink but straight off the plane should see you along nicely with a cocktail. I make them specially myself.”
“I always drink them at home. Hello, Miss Prague. You look very attractive in that dress. It suits you. This is all such a change from London. What a fantastic colour the sun is making out there in the sky as it sets. One has to get into the countryside in England to see the sunsets. Thank you, it looks just fine… Cheers… Yes, and it tastes good. May I go outside? I have never seen anything so lovely as that sunset. You have such a wonderful view from up here on top of so tall a building. No, you go and answer the bell. I am old enough to enjoy this by myself.”
Mark Dacks looked out past her to the colours above the distant bush and around at the highveld clutching at Salisbury. The bush had allowed it only a small patch of the vastness of Africa. A jolt of pleasure kicked him in the stomach and reminded him that he was where he really wanted to be. The quick dusk had taken the colour out of the light away from the blazing smile of the setting sun. He turned round at the third buzz of the bell and strode towards the front door. He flicked on the light-switch as he trod the second carpet and the concealed lights spread a few inches up their pin-points of wall. It was the in-between of day and night. The sundowner. He opened the door to Anna Featherstone, Francine Mure, Harold Ackit and Herman Small. They filed in past his welcome to be greeted by the orange violence of the distant but dominant horizon. The drinks chinked and the laughter began.
The sun turned its back on the new night and drew with it the last colours from the bottom of the dome of sky. The fire of day was almost out.
Herman Small drank his beer with the usual pleasure and reminded himself of the warning he had been given about there being more alcohol in the beer than at home. He didn’t mind making a fool of himself but he did dislike the hangovers. After filling his eyes to the full on Korina Prague’s inviting cocktail poise, he slowly swivelled his eyes to Anna Featherstone. The expectant, frustrated surge rose in him sharply to a new high. He swallowed at the sight of soft, round breasts pushing firmly above the loose cut of an orange and black dress that flared from her waist and bust. Her bra was doing most of the job but he didn’t care.
To counter his desire to touch her, he walked over to the cocktail cabinet and took another cold beer from the ice bucket as directed by Mark Dacks when he had been given the first. The new beer bottle frothed as promised. He poured into the side of his glass, put down the empty bottle and tasted the new beer with satisfaction. He wiped his mouth and took a First Lord from the packet newly offered to him by Mark Dacks and decided he liked the man. He tried to hold himself a little straighter as a result.
