Vortex

“Get out and see if they’ve left the keys in the cab, Hugo.

Otherwise we have to go around.”

The beefy policeman in back nodded and reached for the squad car’s door handle. He never finished the movement.

Bullets shattered the front windshield and punched in through the car’s thin metal sides-tearing through flesh and ricocheting off bone before tumbling off end over end into thin air. Three of the four South African policemen died instantly. The fourth lived just long enough to claw futilely for his holstered pistol before sliding slowly down the bloodsoaked seat.

Thirty meters up the hillside, the Zulu leader rose from his crouch, already replacing the half-used clip in his assault rifle with practiced hands. He turned to the small group of men hiding beside him.

“Take all their weapons and ammunition. And look for a portable radio set. We will need it all before we are done. “

He watched in silence as they raced down the hill toward the bullet-riddled police car. The assault rifles, shotguns, and pistols carried by the dead policemen would more than double the firepower at his disposal. Better still, the news of this bold deed would spread, drawing more young men from the kraals and city streets to his side-and to the cause of his exiled chief.

He smiled. After more than a century of uneasy peace, the Zulu war regiments, the imp is were once again on the march.

SEPTEMBER 6-MINISTRY OF LAW AND ORDER,

PRETORIA

Brig. Franz Diederichs sat at attention in front of Marius van der

Heijden. A general in the Security Branch of the South African Police,

Diederichs was a short, wiry man whose narrow face was dominated by a pair of cold blue eyes and a cruel, thin-lipped mouth. It was a face that reflected its owner’s character and temperament.

“You understand the importance of this assignment, Franz?”

Diederichs nodded once.

“Yes, Minister.”

Van der Heijden ignored him. In his view, subordinates were, by definition, incapable of fully understanding anything they hadn’t heard at least twice.

“The President’s decision to give this ministry direct control over KwaZulu reflects his personal confidence in our ability to get the job done. Nothing must shake that confidence, understood?”

Diederichs nodded again, carefully concealing his impatience. Both van der Heijden’s mannerisms and his ambitions were well-known to those who worked for him.

“Good.” The deputy minister of law and order laced his fingers across a prominent paunch.

“Then you will also understand my insistence that this ‘insurrection’ —he sniffed

contemptuously, as though that were too significant a term for what was happening in Natal—be smashed as quickly as possible.”

Diederichs leaned forward.

“Will I be able to call on additional police units or troops, Minister?”

Van der Heijden shook his head.

“No. Manpower is too scarce at the moment. Every trained man is needed for service on the Namibian front or to help maintain order in the townships. You must work with what you have. You must use terror, Franz!” He pounded his desk once and pointed a plump finger in Diederichs’s direction.

“Terror must swell your ranks!”

His outstretched finger swiveled and came to rest, aimed now at the portrait of Karl Vorster hung prominently on the far wall.

“The President himself agrees with this precept. In his own words, Brigadier. In his own words! He has said that he wants one hundred dead Zulus as payment for every policeman they have so foully murdered. Ten kraals are to be wiped from the face of the earth for every white farm they dare to attack!

Blood must answer for blood! And fire for fire! Show no mercy toward these traitorous blacks, Franz.” Van der Heijden paused, breathing hard.

“End their cowardly ambushes. Root them out. And then kill them!”

For the first time since entering the room, Diederichs allowed himself a single, short smile.

CHAPTER

Storm Warning

SEPTEMBER 7-CNN HEADLINE NEWS

The dramatic images from Namibia occupied center stage during CNN’s hourly news recap. “in a visit designed to show the depth of Cuba’s support for

Namibia, Cuban president Fidel Castro today landed in Walvis Bay on a whirlwind tout of the war zone. ” A smiling, cigar-chomping Castro seemed perfectly at home in a sea of military uniforms. His apparent vigor contradicted persistent rumors of ill health, though the bushy, once-brown beard had gone almost completely gray.

The video image showed Castro, with Vega at his side, touring the captured South African port. Several Cubanflagged merchant ships could be seen behind them hurriedly off-loading tanks, planes, and artillery onto Walvis Bay’s long piers. Antiaircraft units and SAM batteries guarded against South African air attack.

The view shifted to show troops in fortifications outside the town, cheering wildly as Castro and his general appeared.

The footage ended with a close-up shot of a jubilant Fidel Castro pumping his clenched fist in the air in triumph.

Castro’s elated image vanished and CNN’s hightech Atlanta studio reappeared.