Vortex

Ian Sheffield sat with one arm draped around Emily’s shoulders, reading the same mystery novel for what must be the seventh or eighth time in as many days. She murmured something unintelligible and squirmed deeper into his grasp -dozing lightly. He kissed the top of her head and turned the page with a practiced thumb, stifling a yawn. Damn it. As always, the main character had just walked straight past the story’s most crucial clue without noticing it.

He set the paperback down and tilted his head back against the sofa. It had been damned decent of Emily’s friend and former classmate to volunteer the use of his apartment, but he wished the guy had been a little more widely read. Five so-so mysteries, a travel guide, and three college-level political-science textbooks weren’t much of a library with which to while away the passing hours and days.

Emily was the lucky one. She could make occasional, lightning-fast trips outside to pick up supplies. He and Matthew Sibena were trapped in this tiny apartment-unable to so much as show their faces in public lest they be recognized and arrested. Every scrap of news Emily could pick up on her trips to the neighborhood market seemed to indicate that they were still at the top of South Africa’s Most Wanted list.

Soft snores drifting through the open door into the apartment only bedroom showed that Sibena had again taken refuge in deep, uninterrupted sleep. Ian felt the trace of a smile flicker across his face. Over the last two weeks, the young black man had astounded them by being able to sleep through anything and at any time. He could sleep through the noise of the morning rush hour, in the sweltering heat of a sun-lit afternoon, or even on a night that seemed far too quiet. It was a talent Ian often envied.

“Oh! ” Emily sat up suddenly, looking pale and frightened.

“Bad dream?” He gently stroked her shoulder.

She shook her head, puzzled.

“No, I do not think so.” She sat listening for a moment.

“I thought I heard something just now. Soft footsteps right outside the door.”

Ian cocked his head, listening for himself.

“I don’t know, Em, I don’t hear any th-“

A savage kick smashed the front door open and left it dangling from one set of bent hinges. For one terrifying second, Ian felt his heart stop beating. He sat frozen in shock.

“Police! Police! Nobody move! Nobody move!”

Men in blue-gray uniforms poured into the apartment from the outside hallway. Two charged past the sofa, splitting up and spreading out to search the other rooms. A third policeman slid to a stop in front of them, aiming a Browning Hi Power pistol very precisely at an imaginary point right between Ian’s eyes.

The barrel looked ten feet across.

“Do not even think to move, man, or I will blow your blery brains across the girl there.” The pistol didn’t waver.

“You are the American reporter,

Ian Sheffield?”

Still in shock, Ian nodded.

“Then I arrest you on charges of espionage and violation of the National

Emergency decrees.” The smug note of triumph in the man’s voice was unmistakable.

Ian flushed bright red, ashamed to have been caught so quickly and apparently so easily.

“Lieutenant!” One of the other policemen emerged from the bedroom, dragging Matthew Sibena along in an iron-fisted grip. The young black man looked dazed, frightened, and completely disoriented.

“Look what else

I’ve found!”

The officer arched a single finely sculpted eyebrow.

“A black?” He sneered at Ian and Emily.

“ANC, eh? Your controller, perhaps?”

Sibena twisted helplessly in the larger South African policeman’s locked arms.

“No! That’s not so! I’m not ANC, I swear it, baas. “

“Shut up, kaffir!” The police lieutenant still hadn’t lowered his gun.

“Well, American?”

Ian looked back and forth from Emily to Siberia to the pistol, thinking fast. Right now, the three of them didn’t have the slightest chance to wriggle out of this nightmarish situation. The police were too alert, too ready for trouble. The odds and ends of martial arts training he’d picked up for physical and mental exercise wouldn’t be of any use if they thought he might be dangerous. He needed to divert their attention away from him-to convince these policemen that they had him thoroughly cowed and under control.

He let his face crumple in abject terror and allowed a whining note to creep into his voice.

“That’s right. He’s an ANC guerrilla. The ANC was supposed to get us out of the country before any of this happened.”

Emily breathed in sharply suddenly, but stayed silent. Good girl, he thought. She knows me too well to think I’ve suddenly cracked.

He glared accusingly at Siberia’s stunned face.

“Your people failed us, comrade! And I’ll be damned if I’ll take the fall for them!” Watch it,

Ian, he told himself. No need to lay it on too thick.

“That’s enough. ” The lieutenant smiled in satisfaction.

“You can make a full confession later. In the meantime, just stay still and keep your mouth shut. “

Another policeman, smaller than the one holding Sibena, wandered back into the living room.