John Davis - Unofficial and Deniable

Josephine said, ‘Just be your ever-charming self. You’ve been in tighter corners than this.’

Harker expected the big front door to burst open, the old man to come beaming out. But no: the door was locked. It was a butler who opened it.

The library was the size of a badminton court, the walls lined with laden bookshelves, the big room divided by more bookcases; a mezzanine floor was above, equally lined and laden. Denys Valentine, about sixty years old, tallish, thick-set, grey-haired, handsome, stood in front of his big marble fireplace, before the crescent of leather armchairs, whisky glass in hand, and said with a self-conscious smile, ‘Josephine’s told me a bit about you, of course, on the telephone. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ He gave a thin smile. ‘A great pleasure.’

Harker had been invited to sit down but he preferred to remain standing because his host was doing that. He knew he was being assessed and he felt on his mettle. ‘Equally, Denys,’ he said with a smile, and waited.

Denys Valentine cleared his throat, then said resolutely, ‘Josephine has indicated to me that you and she are … more or less living together.’ He cleared his throat again.

Harker resented this: he and Josie were mature people, for Chrissakes.

‘That’s true. But she continues to maintain her own apartment, where she works every day. We only see each other in the evenings.’

Denys Valentine said, with another thin smile, ‘And in the mornings.’

Harker looked at him, also with a thin smile. ‘That’s true, yes.’ He added: ‘And I’m confident I speak for Josephine when I say we are very happy.’

Valentine turned a steely eye on Harker. ‘But I am not happy. If you’ll forgive me for saying so.’ He paused. Then: ‘I don’t think any father likes his daughter living in sin.’

Harker had to conceal his smile. ‘Sin?’ He shook his head politely. ‘I don’t believe that’s how it is, Denys. To be happy, to be in love, can hardly be a sin.’

Denys Valentine looked at him. ‘Out of wedlock it is a mortal sin, I’m afraid, the scriptures are clear. “Cursed are the fornicators.” Quote, unquote.’

Harker had to stop himself smiling. What do you say to that? So he nodded politely.

‘Well, Jack?’

‘Well what, Denys?’

‘What are you going to do about it?’ Valentine paused, then went on, ‘To me it is clear. You must either desist or you must marry. Immediately.’

Harker looked at him with a twinkle in his eye. ‘And which of those two options would you prefer to see happen?’

Valentine shifted, then turned to the liquor cabinet. ‘How’s your glass?’

‘Fine at the moment.’

‘Please help yourself when you’re ready.’ He poured whisky for himself and said: ‘I want what’s best for Josephine. Clearly it is not good for her – for her immortal soul – to be living in sin. But alas that doesn’t mean that getting married is necessarily good for her either.’ He turned back to Harker. ‘I must be frank and tell you that I have great difficulty in reconciling myself to your previous career, Jack.’

Harker frowned. ‘You mean you don’t like the fact that I was in the South African military?’

‘But more that that,’ Valentine said, ‘I am a pacifist. When I was drafted into the army during the Korean War I was a conscientious objector at heart. I don’t believe in taking human life – that’s my Catholic belief, my family’s belief. The only reason I didn’t appeal against being drafted was because my law degree and a few of my father’s friends in politics guaranteed me a non-combatant role in the Judge Advocate’s department, doing court-martials.’

Harker smiled politely. ‘Josephine has never indicated that she’s a pacifist.’

Valentine said resolutely, ‘The only circumstance that justifies the taking of human life is to protect the lives of those whom one has a legal and moral duty to defend – like your children. However …’ He smiled thinly. ‘You’re completely finished with the army now, thank the Lord – Josie tells me you don’t miss it at all. However,’ Valentine said, ‘there remains the matter of whose army you were in – namely the South African.’ He glanced at Harker. ‘I have great difficulty with this. Josephine has tried to explain that you were fighting communism, and evidently she has accepted your … she has adjusted to the anomalous situation. But so far I regret I am unable to do so.’ He cleared his throat. ‘All my family are dedicated to democracy. To me it is incomprehensible that an honourable soldier can fight on the side of South Africa’s apartheid regime.’ He looked at Harker and spread his hands. ‘I’m sorry if I offend.’

Harker said quietly: ‘Would you rather your honourable soldier fought on the side of Godless communism which does not permit any form of democracy?’

Denys Valentine gave him a wisp of a smile. ‘Two tyrants fighting each other makes neither right. But since you ask, I am sure that the life of the average worker, the man-on-the-street in Russia, is more just and congenial by far than that of the average black man in South Africa.’

Harker said grimly, ‘I do not defend South Africa’s apartheid, Denys. However, I assure you that it is much better by far than the destructive, chaotic poverty and bloody tyranny that communism and the Gold War have forced on the rest of Africa. And I assure you that the only political power capable – or willing – to take on communism in Africa these days is South Africa, I assure you that it is highly advisable to allow South Africa to defeat the communist tyrant before apartheid itself is defeated – as it will be soon, by its own people. Because without South Africa communism will overrun what’s left of Africa and the poor bloody continent will never recover.’ He raised his finger. ‘In other words, the only hope for Africa is South Africa – the only hope is that it will defeat the communist onslaught, and thereafter become the economic engine that will slowly revive the rest of Africa.’ He ended, ‘Without South Africa’s survival, the rest of Africa is a basket case, for ever.’

Denys Valentine looked at him. ‘You think that South Africa is going to rejoin the human race soon? When will this miracle come to pass?’

Harker resented the tone, not the disbelief. ‘When the war in Angola ends – and that’s going to happen soon. There are overtures by Cuba already. Russia cannot afford the Angolan war much longer – it’s an economic basket case and this new president – Gorbachev – is pulling Russia’s horns in. Soon he’ll sue for peace. South Africa will readily accept because the Angolan war is our Vietnam too and these international sanctions are starting to bite hard.’ He took a sip of whisky. ‘When the communist threat is removed, the new South Africa will start.’

Valentine looked dubious. ‘And then what? How do you feel about being governed by blacks?’

Harker was tired of being subjected to tests. He said, ‘I’m cautiously optimistic.’

Valentine frowned. ‘Why “cautiously”?’

Harker sighed. ‘Well,’ Harker said, ‘the rest of Africa has been chaotically misgoverned. But there’s a chance it will be different in our case because the failures of Africa are in part attributable to Africa being a Cold War battle-ground – both Russia and China threw money at the black tyrants to get them on side and so the West did the same, so misgovernment was allowed to flourish. Tyranny, corruption, genocide, inefficiency were rewarded with more and more money which the tyrants put into their Swiss bank accounts while poverty and disease descended on their unfortunate people. So a culture of shameless corruption developed which was tolerated by the rest of the world. But when the Cold War ends, that tolerance will change – if black politicians do not behave they’ll have their aid cut off. So I think South Africa’s black leaders will not have the freedom to abuse the country as happened in the rest of Africa. They’ll have to behave themselves.’