Vortex

Vorster nodded. When he’d read the DMI report, he’d simply skimmed the page-long compilation of ANC personnel rosters, equipment lists, code words, and the like. Nothing on it had struck him as being especially interesting or significant.

Muller laid his briefcase on the desk and unlocked it.

“Not everything they found went on that list, Minister. I kept a particular group of documents separate. “

He handed Vorster a sheaf of papers.

“These refer to an upcoming special

ANC operation. Something they’ve called Broken Covenant.”

He stood silently as Vorster thumbed through the papers, watching with interest as the older man’s face darkened with rage.

“God in heaven, Muller! These damned blacks are growing

too bold by far. ” Vorster’s calloused hands tightened, crumpling the documents he still held. He stared at his subordinate.

“Could such a monstrous thing really be done?”

Muller nodded slowly.

“I believe so, Minister. Especially without extraordinary security precautions on our part. It’s actually quite a workable plan.” He sounded almost admiring.

Vorster scowled.

“And what’s being done to kill this thing in its cradle?” He pointed to the papers in front of him.

“Nothing… as yet, Minister.”

Vorster’s scowl grew deeper.

“Explain yourself, Meneer Muller. Tell me why you’ve ignored such a serious threat to this government!”

Muller’s pale blue eyes stayed fixed on his superior.

“I’ve referred this matter to you, Minister, because it occurred to me that it might serve a number of political purposes. I thought you might want to personally inform the President of this plan’s existence. After all, nothing could more clearly demonstrate the foolishness of trying to negotiate with our enemies. “

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Vorster’s scowl faded into another thin-lipped smile.

“I see. Yes, I do see.”

The younger man was absolutely right. A majority of his cabinet colleagues seemed blindly determined to quiet the current round of racial unrest with words. Words! What idiocy! Vorster knew that blacks respected only one thing power The power of the whip and the gun. That was the only real way for true Afrikaners to maintain their baasskap, their mastery, over the nonwhite races of South Africa. How else could 4.5 million whites avoid being submerged by the 24 million others they ruled? Too many in Pretoria and Cape Town had forgotten those numbers in this hateful rush toward “moderation. “

As Muller said, it was time to remind them.

Vorster eyed his subordinate. The man’s instincts were good, but his arrogance was an irritation. The Scriptures were clear. Sinful pride opened a doorway for Satan’s whispers. Perhaps Muller needed a small taste of the lash himself. Not much. Just enough to keep his mind focused on his true master.

With short, powerful strokes he began smoothing the documents he’d crushed.

“Very clever, Muller. Not too clever for your own good, I hope?”

Muller stiffened.

“No, Minister. But I am loyal… loyal to you and to our cause!”

Vorster’s smile widened, though it never reached his eyes.

“Of course you are. I’ve never doubted it.” He folded the captured plans for Broken

Covenant and slid them into a drawer.

“Haymans has called a special cabinet meeting in Cape Town to discuss our current foreign policy. Maybe

I’ll use this little present you’ve brought to me to set the right tone for the discussion tomorrow.

“In the meantime, Muller, I want this matter held strictly between the two of us. Understood?”

Muller nodded.

“You have the only printed copy of the material, Minister.

And the negatives are locked in my safe.”

“Has anyone else seen this?”

“Just the technician who developed the film. I’ve already sworn him to secrecy.” Muller arched a single finely sculpted eyebrow. “in any event,

Minister, I’m certain he can be trusted. He is one of our ‘friends.”

“

Vorster knew exactly what Muller meant by “friends. ” He meant the

Afrikaner Weerstandbeweging, the Afrikaner Resistance Movement. The AWB existed to assure South Africa’s continued domination by an all-white and “pure” Afrikaner power structure. Its publicly known leaders organized mass political rallies of gun-toting fanatics and maintained a brown shirt paramilitary group known as the Brandwag, or Sentry. They preached a gospel combining both militant nationalism and virulent hatred for those they saw as dangerous “aliens” in South Africa-blacks, Indians, mixed-race coloreds, Jews, and even Englishdescended whites. And though the ruling National Party dismissed the AWB as a lunatic fringe group, its members~ ip continued to climb steadily. In fact, every gesture madu by the National Party toward political and racial moderation boosted the

AWB’s strength.

Few, if any, knew that the AWB maintained another, more ominous organization-an organization whose members were scattered secretly throughout South Africa’s political and military elite. None attended the