Vortex

“I mean it, boss. Some of our signals spooks are picking up a lot of Spanish radio transmissions-south of the Angolan-Namibian border. I checked at the Cuban desk, and there’s been activity-a lot of it.”

Sighing, Hurley started leafing through them, at first turning the pages slowly, but speeding up as he progressed, until finally he did little more than scan the heading on each page.

Half-abstractedly, he looked at Rock and said, “Get me more,” as he reached for the phone. Punching a four-digit number, he listened to a ring, then an answer.

“This is Assistant Secretary Hurley. I need to speak to the secretary immediately. “

CHAPTER

Roadblock

AUGUST 23-20TH CAPE RIFLES, NEAR BERG LAND 40 KILOMETERS SOUTH OF

WINDHOEK

Motor Route I ran straight through the small village of Bergland and continued, climbing steadily upward deeper into the rugged Auas Mountains.

Just north of Bergland, the South African construction crews who’d built the road had chosen to go through rather than over a steep boulder-and brush strewn ridge running from east to west. Armed with dynamite and bulldozers, they’d torn open a fifty-meter-wide gap, laid down the road, and moved on-never considering the difficulties their handiwork might create for a future invader.

They’d never imagined that their own sons would be among those trying to fight their way through the choke point they’d created.

Now Bergland’s narrow streets were crammed with armored cars and troop carriers. Their scarred metal sides and gun turrets looked out of place among pristine, gabled homes and shops dating from the German colonial period.

South Africa’s spearhead had ground to a complete and unexpected halt.

Commandant Henrik Kruger jumped down off the Ratel before it had even stopped moving and jogged toward the small group of dust-streaked officers clustered around a Rooikat armored fighting vehicle. A map case and canteen slung from his shoulder clattered as he ran. A young lieutenant followed him.

Maj. Daan Visser saw them coming and snapped to attention, an action swiftly imitated by his subordinates. All showed signs of increasing wear and tear. Visser’s bloodshot eyes were surrounded by dark rings, and sweat, oil, and grease stains further complicated the camouflage pattern on his battle dress. Five days of nonstop driving punctuated by several short, sharp, and bloody skirmishes had left their mark.

“What’s the holdup here, Daan?” Kruger didn’t intend to waste precious time exchanging meaningless pleasantries. His battalion was nearly a full day behind schedule, and the fact that the schedule was ludicrous did nothing to soften the complaints coming forward from Pretoria.

“My boys and I ran into some real bastards just beyond that ridge. ” The major gestured to the north, his words clipped by a mixture of fatigue and excitement.

“Caught us coming out of the cut.”

Kruger raised his glasses to study the spot. The paved two lane road crossed an east-west ridge there, and its builders had cut a path through the higher ground. The result was a narrow passage barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass. The kommandant was certain that every antitank weapon the enemy possessed was pointed at the other end of that lethal channel. As he examined it, searching for other passes, the major continued to report.

“They were zeroed in on us. We didn’t have room to deploy, so we popped smoke and reversed back here to regroup. “

Kruger nodded, agreeing with Visser’s decision. The defile was a potential death trap for any troops or vehicles trying to force their way through against determined opposition.

“Any casualties?”

Visser shook his head.

“None, thank God. But it was damned close.” He pointed to a thin wire draped over the Rooikat’s turret and chassis.

“Some kaffir swine nearly blew me to kingdom come with a fucking Sagger.”

Kruger pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. The Sagger, a wire-guided antitank missile, must have passed just centimeters over the Rooikat’s turret-leaving a length of its control wire as testimony of the near miss.

And Namibian missile teams on the other side of the ridge could mean only one thing: they planned to stop his battalion’s advance right here and right now.

Very well. If the Narnibians wanted to risk a stand-up slugging match, he’d oblige them. The more Swapo troops they killed now, the fewer they’d have to contend with later.

Kruger stared up the steep slope leading to the ridge crest.

“Can you get your vehicles over that?”

Visser nodded.

“No problem, sir. But I’ll need infantry and artillery support to deal with those blery missile teams. “