Always choose the place for a negotiation, set the time, and make sure you’re early. Those were Josh’s father’s words and he’d taken them to heart. It was eleven o’clock in the morning and he was sitting in Syd’s sports bar in Lourensville. Syd and his son Alex were busy cleaning up last night’s mess and stocking the bar. Josh had taken place in what he called the gunslinger’s chair. He sat at a small table, his back against the wood-paneled wall with a complete view of the bar and the entrance.
In the bright light of day, the beer and wine stains in the faded carpet were clearly visible and the smell of stale alcohol made him feel slightly nauseated. Yet again, he hadn’t had much sleep. He sipped on a Coke, no beer this morning. He needed all of his faculties.
A TV mounted on a wall emitted a low sound. A rugby match was on. Some second-stringer teams were scrumming down, and the few patrons weren’t paying attention. The big game would be later at five o’clock, when Syd’s Bar would be packed to the gills, noisy and festive. The party would probably go on into the small hours. A few years ago, he would have been part of it. Nowadays, he had bigger things to attend to.
He knew that Hans Bekker was unlikely to tell him anything worth knowing. Why should he? For Josh, this meeting was about testing the waters. The answers, if there were to be any, would be in the details. He would pay close attention to the man’s body language. Observe him. Make a note of where he talked too much or got defensive.
Josh took another swig of Coke and when he looked up, he saw the rangy figure of Hans Bekker making his way toward him. Josh waited a few moments before he stood. He extended his hand to shake Hans’s and held it firmly for a few seconds longer than necessary. Hans was taller than Josh by a few inches, sinewy and lean. His light-brown hair was cut in a short buzz cut, his eyes, a pale, watery gray, were direct.
“Mr. de Lange. Long time, no see.” His face had a hard grin.
“Sit down, Hans.”
“Coke, huh? Last of the big drinkers. Hey, sweetheart.” He signaled to a waitress. “How’s a double Bells on the rocks?”
To Josh, he asked, “So, how’s the crop this year?”
“Fine, everything is on schedule,” he said, keeping his voice even.
The waitress arrived with Hans’s drink. She was petite and pretty. Her dark hair fell in a shiny Cleopatra-style bob.
“Here, sir,” she said demurely, placing the whisky on the table.
Hans slapped a twenty rand note on the table as a tip. As the girl reached for it, he snatched it back.
“Twirl around for me and it’s yours,” he said.
The girl, looking uncomfortable, edged away, declining the tip and his advances.
“So, do you want to tell me why I’m here inside Syd’s Bar on a perfectly good Saturday morning?”
“I think you know.” Josh looked straight into those pale-gray eyes. No one blinked.
“Why go down the same road again, Bekker? You’ll make total asses of yourselves like last time, when Sun Valley Wines ended up with egg on its face and having to pay costs.”
“All that court stuff is bullshit. That’s not how I work, de Lange, and anyway, I don’t make the decisions.”
“But you do have shares in Sun Valley. Your rich daddy bought them for you after you bombed out in Johannesburg, with the construction business that was nothing more than a front for money laundering for a bunch of low-life criminals.”
“You’re a fine one to talk. You’ve been gifted a wine farm from the time you born, never worked for a thing.”
The accusation stung and Josh took a few seconds to recover.
“You’re lucky you only served nine months. You laundered money for some of the most despicable people in the country. Wildlife poaching syndicates, prostitution, you name it.”
“Yeah, well, some business opportunities work out and some don’t.” Hans smiled humorlessly. “You can work as hard as you like and somehow things just turn out the wrong way.” He leaned forward on the table. “I think you’re about to find that out, de Lange. Returning from the big city, desperate to make a success of your dad’s farm.”
“It’s not my father’s wine farm. Mountain Shadows has been in my family for seven generations.” Josh’s voice rose, enough for Syd to pause in his stocktake and appraise the situation developing in his bar.
“Well, let’s see how the seventh generation manages to fuck it all up.” Hans’s eyes narrowed.
Josh laughed. “Unlikely. I have wine-making in my bones. Face it, Bekker, you can try to intimidate us all you want. But you and your team just don’t have what it takes. I mean, your last attempt at Pinotage? That was meant to be Sun Valley’s flagship offering. I’ve tasted better stuff out of a box. Not even the supermarket chains would touch it at a discount.”
“You’re a real snob, aren’t you, de Lange? You think that a name and a pedigree is everything. That customers are drawn to the history and all that crap. Well, you know what? I think you’re right.” Hans leaned back in his chair laconically and signaled for another whisky.
Josh kept his face neutral, but his body tensed. What the hell was Bekker up to now?
“You see, the thing is, a name can be acquired. It’s really that simple.”
“Mountain Shadows is not for sale.”
“Not now, maybe, but believe me, everybody has their price. They don’t think they do. But let’s just say that when enough pressure is applied, people generally do what’s in their best interest. To hell with pride. In the meanwhile”—Hans took a deep swig of whisky—“I suggest you come up with a figure, just for safety’s sake.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Bekker. You and your partners are still outsiders in this valley. If you really think sabotage is a passport to success in this industry, then you’re going to need all the luck you can get. Paying a bunch of desperadoes to hack our vines and piss in our fermentation tanks doesn’t make a winemaker.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hans put his hands in front of him in a display of faux innocence. “Sounds to me like you have some unhappy workers on board. Just another one of your woes.”
Josh stood up and his chair scraped beneath him. Hans did the same. All traces of phony friendliness were gone. Hans’s face was a mask of belligerence.
“You make me laugh, de Lange. With your fancy private school education and your do-gooding. The playing field has changed. We have new investors now who have pockets far deeper than yours.”
“I know all about the Palmer family, Hans. A bunch of political has-beens State-side, trying their hand at something they know nothing about.”
Hans visibly flinched at the mention of the Palmers. Clearly, he thought it was some kind of state secret.
“And they may have deep pockets, but I hate to tell them it takes more than money to create award-winning fine wine. Hiring you to manage things was their first fuck-up. No doubt they will make plenty more.”
“We’ll wear you down, de Lange. We’re in this for the long game and after all, a man can only take so much. Look at your father. It wore him down in the end, didn’t it.?”
At the mention of his father’s name, Josh felt a rush of anger. “My father buried the Sun Valley challenge and so will I,” he said. His voice was low and deliberate.
“Take that attitude and you’ll have to watch your back, de Lange.” As he said this, Hans unzipped his jacket and allowed it to flap open. Josh had noticed the bulge at Hans’s hip when he’d arrived. Now a large automatic pistol was plain to see.
“Once a hood, always a hood.” Josh shook his head.
“I’ll fucking bury you, de Lange. You have no idea what you are up against.” The two men eyed one another.
It wasn’t only Josh who had seen the gun. Syd, who’d been keeping an eye on proceedings, now leaped over the bar, a large baton in one hand. His son Alex was by his father’s side in a second.
“You see that sign?” he asked Hans. “It says Right of Admission Reserved, asshole. Now you can walk out of here on your own accord or Alex and I can throw you out. Which will it be?” Syd tapped the baton against his palm. He was a compact man, with an air of authority and biceps that bulged under his t-shirt.
Josh didn’t take his eyes off the gun.
“Gentlemen, chill out. I come in peace. It’s all just business right, Josh?” he said, winking insolently before he turned and sauntered through the front door.
Josh didn’t answer but fixed his gaze on the retreating figure of Hans Bekker.
“Thanks, guys,” Josh said to Syd and Alex.
“No problem, Josh. We had you covered the entire time. That guy’s bad news, and I hear you have had some trouble at Mountain Shadows. I take it our friend there has something to do with it.”
“Wow, news sure travels fast around here. It’s nothing we can’t take care of,” Josh said, trying to reassure Syd and himself. Truthfully, he felt shaken to the core. He knew he’d had to give Hans Bekker a show of force, let him and his partners realize that the de Langes weren’t about to roll over. He also had to get the message across that the Palmers’ anonymity was blown. The secret ace up Sun Valley’s sleeve had now fallen onto the table.
Josh thanked Syd again and left the bar, his head spinning, his body still coursing with adrenaline. He realized he would have to be proactive. Sun Valley was moving quickly. The way things stood, it looked like they were headed into all-out warfare. Josh shuddered at the thought, for he knew that in warfare even victory could come at a high cost.
He resolved that he would have to leverage his contacts in the industry and call in favors from his fathers’ friends in business and government. The one thing he couldn’t figure out was Lucy. Where did she fit into all of this? Was this really part of the Palmers’ revenge plan?