Gold Mine by Wilbur Smith

Author:Wilbur Smith [Smith, Wilbur]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Fiction, Espionage, Action & Adventure, Fiction - Espionage, Thriller, Intrigue, Gold Mines and Mining, South Africa
ISBN: 9780312940614
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2006-10-15T03:21:27+00:00

They sat facing each other.

"Only three things worry me," Terry told Rod.

"What are they?" Rod rubbed soap into the face flannel.

"Firstly, your legs are too long for this bath." Rod rearranged his limbs, and Terry shot half out of the water with a squeak.

"Rodney Ironsides, would you be good enough to take a bit more care where you put your toes?" "Forgive me." He leaned forward to kiss her. "Tell me what else worries you."

"Well, the second thing that worries me is that I'm not worried."

"What part of Ireland did you say you were from?" Rod asked. "County Cork?"

"I mean, it's terrible but I'm not even a little conscience-stricken.

Once I believed that if it ever happened to me I would never be able to look another human being in the eyes, I'd be so ashamed." She took the flannel from his hands and began soaping his chest and shoulders. "But, far from being ashamed, I'd like to stand in the middle of Eloff Street at rush hour and shout "Rodney Ironsides is my lover"."

"Let's drink to that." Rodney rinsed the soap from his hands and reached over the side of the bath to pick up the two wine glasses from the floor. He gave one to Terry and they clinked them together, the sparkling Cape burgundy glowed ruby red.

Rodney Ironsides is my lover!" she toasted him.

"Rodney Ironsides is your lover," he agreed and they drank.

"Now, I give you a toast," he said.

what is it?" She held her glass ready, and Rod leaned forward and poured the red wine from the crystal glass between her breasts. It ran like blood down her white skin and he intoned solemnly: "Bless this ship and all who sail in her!" Terry gurgled with delight.

"To her captain. May he keep a firm hand on the rudder!"

"May her bottom never hit the reef!"

"May she be torpedoed regularly!"

"Terry Steyner, you are terrible."

"Yes, aren't I?" And they drained their glasses.

"Now," Rod asked, "what is your third worry?"

"Manfred will be home on Saturday." They stopped laughing, Rod reached down for the burgundy bottle and refilled the glasses.

"We still have five days," he said.

It had been a week of personal triumph for Manfred Steyner. His address to the conference had been the foundation of the entire talks, all discussion had revolved upon it. He had been called upon to speak at the closing banquet which General de Gaulle had attended in person, and afterwards the General had asked Manfred to take coffee and brandy With him in one of the ante-rooms.

The General had been gracious, had asked questions and listened attentively-to the answers. Twice he had called his finance minister's attention to Manfred's replies.

Their farewells had been cordial, with a hint of state recognition for Manfred, a decoration. In common with most Germans, Manfred had a weakness for uniforms and decorations. He imagined how a star and ribbon might look on the snowy front of his dress shirt.

There had been a wonderful press both in France and at home. Even

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