“Oh, my Lord. Why me?” Breytenbach asked in a strained voice.
“Everyone must do their part in the struggle against oppression, as much as they are able,” the voice said. “Your classmates who are comrades have said that you will do your part. Will you?”
“Why, yes,” Breytenbach babbled, “but still, it is my car, after all.”
“Some comrades will use it and leave it. The new Imperials are not as vigilant as Vereshchagin’s men.”
Almost overnight, Suid-Afrika’s inhabitants had begun calling Admiral Horii’s men “the Imperials,” while referring to the resident Imperial soldiers as “Vereshchagin’s men.”
“No suspicion will attach to you,” the voice continued. “You will do your part, will you not?”
“My car will be there,” Breytenbach said dully, chilled by some of the stories he had heard about how the Movement dealt with traitors.
“Liberty. Long live the Resistance!” the voice said.
“Long live the Resistance,” Breytenbach responded.
As he hung up the telephone, he quoted softly to himself, “Liberty, liberty. What crimes are committed in thy name?” He dutifully went out and unlocked his little car.
An hour later, in a seedy part of Pretoria-Wes, Breytenbach’s car slowed next to two Manchurian soldiers standing on a street comer, and a gunman in the passenger seat sprayed them with bullets. One Manchurian died, and a second was critically wounded. The police recovered the abandoned car about twelve blocks away.
Saturday(309)
COLONEL SUMI PULLED UP TO THE PRETORIA STAATSAMP WITH A
squad of blacklegs.
The policeman at the door stopped him before he could enter. “I am sorry, sir. You cannot go in there armed.” He was unmoved by threats.
With singular ill grace, Sumi turned his pistol over to his aide and left most of his security policemen at the door. “President Beyers is not in, but Speaker Bruwer-Sanmartin is in her office, and I am certain that she will make time to see you. It is on the first floor,” the policeman said cheerily in clipped English. Sumi went up the steps and hesitated at the top.
“Colonel Sumi? I assume that this is you,” Bruwer called out crisply. “Please come in.”
Sumi entered her office followed by the two blacklegs. He bowed slightly. “Vroew Bruwer-Sanmartin, I wish to see President Beyers immediately.”
Seated behind a plain metal desk, Bruwer was simply dressed in a dark blue—almost black—outfit with her blond hair cut very short. The only jewelry she wore was a steel wedding band.
“Heer Beyers is unavailable at this moment. We packed him off to light a fire under some civil servants. May I assist you instead? I have ten minutes to spare for any constituent who can manage to find my door, so I can spare at least that much time for you,” she said politely, still seated at her desk.
“Two of our soldiers were shot last night, and one is dead,” Sumi stated harshly.
“I have heard this. Gunmen of the Afrikaner Resistance Movement,” Bruwer replied, not bothering to conceal the disdain in her voice. “My heartfelt condolences to the comrades and the families of the two soldiers.”
“Your police have not found the killers. The situation is intolerable and requires uigent measures. I have advised Admiral Horii that we should take hostages for the townspeople’s good behavior. I will need your assistance in compiling a list of names.” Sumi made no effort to conceal the menace in his voice.
“Make my name the first one,” Bruwer said curtly, staring at Sumi directly.
Sumi blinked at her, momentarily taken aback.
“If you have not heard, Colonel Sumi, the Afrikaner Resistance Movement is a small band of criminal fanatics who enjoy minimal support from the population. Their goal is to destabilize the government which I have the honor to represent. This is not Earth, and taking hostages from the civilian population will do more to destabilize us than anything the terrorists are capable of doing. If you take hostages, there will be a general strike and mass demonstrations in protest.”
“How do you know this?” Sumi demanded harshly, and immediately regretted the question.
Bruwer looked at him and said in a level voice, “Because I will organize the strike and lead the demonstrations.” She continued matter-of-factly, “If the ARM boys see that shooting at your soldiers provokes you into doing stupid things, they will try to shoot two or three of them a week, and I would prefer to keep your soldiers alive. You do realize that whoever allowed those two boys to wander around the streets at night like that was a donkey.”
Her telephone rang, and she picked it up. Cradling the receiver, she said, “One moment, dear.” She looked at Colonel Sumi. “It is my husband, Acting Major Sanmartin. You were, of course, observed coming here. He bet me money this morning that you would come and suggest something like this, and he wants to know whether you have detained me.”
Sumi wordlessly denied it.
She spoke into the telephone, “Raul, I think that Colonel Sumi and I have reached an understanding. Ciao!"
She put down the telephone and told Sumi coldly, “Please be assured that we will do all that we can to find the persons who murdered your soldiers. However, since USS controlled all shipping to this planet, you may wish to ask Mr. Matsudaira how so many weapons from Earth managed to end up in the hands of the fanatics among my people. As I have said, I am greatly distressed by this death, and I extend my sympathy and my condolences on behalf of my people.”
“They are accepted,” Sumi said heavily.
“So, then, Colonel. If you do not propose to detain me, I have work. I have already received eleven calls from my constituents complaining about the detachment of comfort girls your task group brought. We have laws against prostitution here, and the more God-fearing of my coreligionists are quite scandalized. Indeed, I would be grateful if you could contrive to make their presence less obtrusive. Thank you for your visit. It has been a pleasure, I am sure.”
“In a manner of speaking, Madam Speaker,” Sumi said, bowing with grudging respect.
“Oh, and Colonel Sumi—Christmas is Tuesday on the local calendar here. Merry Christmas to you.”
“Merry Christmas, Madam Speaker,” Sumi replied.
As the door closed behind Sumi’s blacklegs, Bruwer exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. A moment later, she began rubbing her temples, trembling slightly.
A few moments later, the telephone rang again. Bruwer opened her eyes and picked it up, squinting at the vision screen. “Hallo, Hans. What are you up to?”
“Just checldng to see that everything is all right. It never pays to assume things, as with the tango.”
“The tango?” Bruwer repeated.
“Didn’t Raul ever tell you the story about the tango? Husbands shouldn’t keep secrets from their wives,” Coldewe said with guileless simplicity.
Bruwer eyed him speculatively.
“As I’m sure you know, Finns are the shiest people on Earth. You’ve heard the joke about the Finnish man and woman who are stranded on a desert island for five years, and when the ship comes to rescue them, they shout, ‘Thank God you’ve come! Please introduce us. We have so much to talk about!’ ”
Hans Coldewe had acquired his sense of humor in a combat zone, which most people agreed made a difference.
“Anyway, Finns of opposite sexes all go to tango clubs to meet each other, so when Raul arrived on Ashcroft, C Company naturally expected him to be an expert. The men were extremely disillusioned when the truth emerged.”
As patrons of Suid-Afrika’s charitable organizations had discovered at numberless benefits, on a dance floor Raul Sanmartin had the natural grace of a cheap marionette. “How much of this are you making up?” Bruwer asked wearily.
“Less than half.” Coldewe coughed delicately. “I have this from several reputable sources.”
Bruwer smiled sourly, as the tension from SUmi’s visit began to leave her. “Where’s Raul? He put you up to this, didn’t he
?” Coldewe made expressive gestures, and Sanmartin moved into view. “I’m not sure anyone in Argentina under the age of ninety knows how to tango.”
Bruwer eyed them both.
“It was the best we could come up with on short notice,” Coldewe admitted.
LATE THAT AFTERNOON, THREE WELL-DIRECTED POLICE RAIDS ON
the homes of ARM sympathizers resulted in the detention of two suspects and the seizure of ten kilograms of leaflets and three computers, but no hard leads.
Sunday(310)
SUPERIOR PRIVATE BOSMAN WAS ALERTED BY THE SOUND OF THE
helicopter’s engine. Crouched in the low brush, he looked at his section sergeant, Niilo Leikola. “Now, who could that be?” Leikola had heard the same sound. “We’ll see.” He put field
glasses to his eyes and began methodically scanning the open kind around their small kopje.
Moments later, a small utility copter touched down on the veld, and three individuals dressed in Imperial uniforms got out carrying assault rifles. They waved, and the copter abruptly rose and disappeared. They shouldered their equipment and began walking toward the forest edge.
“A hunting party, I expect,” Leikola said disgustedly. He pointed. “Down the back slope and through the ravine over there. Let’s see how close we can get to them.”
Twenty minutes later, Lieutenant Isa Miyazato heard a bush hiss, “Please stop, sir.” His two companions almost bumped into him.
Leikola stepped out from behind a fern tree. “I am Section Sergeant Niilo Leikola, number three platoon, A for Akita Company, First Battalion, Thirty-fifth Imperial Rifles. Please identify yourselves and explain your presence here.” Leikola held his light machine gun a little to the side, leaving the three Japanese officers in little doubt that he could trigger a burst that would cut down all three of them.
Miyazato smiled impishly. “I am Lieutenant Miyazato of the Sixth Imperial Lifeguards Battalion. My companions are Lieutenant Akamine and Sublieutenant Kudokawa, officers in the First Battalion of the Manchurian regiment. We came for a little sport.”
“This is a nature preserve, sir. Please lay your rifles on the ground and have a seat,” Leikola responded.
“What is the meaning of this?” Akamine said irritably. “Can’t you see that we are Imperial officers?”
“Yes, sir. This area is closed to hunting. I am authorized to detain you until a senior officer can arrive to place you under arrest. Major Kolomeitsev is on his way. Please lay your rifles on the ground and sit down until he arrives.” Bosman stood and stepped away from the bush with his assault rifle leveled to emphasize Leikola’s directive.
Miyazato glanced at his companions. They set their assault rifles aside and sat down to wait.
Ten minutes later, Leikola heard a helicopter’s engines and felt a small shock from his wrist mount. Triggering his headset, he responded, “Leikola here.”
“Kolomeitsev. Coming through.”
A long rope snaked down a gap where a fern tree had toppled, and Piotr Kolomeitsev expertly slid down it. He unsnapped himself, and the helicopter flew off to land in a clearing. The three young officers hastily rose to their feet, and the senior officer, Miyazato, saluted crisply.
Kolomeitsev returned Miyazato’s salute. “I am Major Kolomeitsev. You came here to hunt amphtiles?”
Miyazato responded automatically. “Yes, sir.”
“Then consider yourselves under arrest. Hunting is prohibited here. Maps prepared within the last five years show the reserve quite clearly. The local government takes preservation of wildlife seriously, and while our primary mission is to hunt terrorists, we assist the locals. I personally fail to see any sport in hunting amphtiles; they have not learned fear of humans and do not shoot back. Were you aware that this was a reserve?” Miyazato looked away. “No, sir.”
“Ignorance is not an acceptable excuse. Moreover, the .Afrikaner Resistance Movement has a base camp somewhere within fifty kilometers of here. While they are not as practiced as Sergeant Leikola and Private Bosman, they might have enjoyed being on the other end of an ambush for a change. If you had found them before we found you, it would have been embarrassing to have to explain another three bodies to Admiral Horii.” Leikola suppressed a smile. Kolomeitsev’s men, who unquestionably had more sympathy for amphtiles than for Japanese officers, called themselves “the night shift” and had more than considerable skill in creeping around. During the faction fighting on NovySibir, the awed inhabitants had called them the “dukhi” or “ghosts.” The ARM boys had learned why.
“Any terrorists we encountered would have met with an unpleasant fate, sir! Hai!” Abruptly, Miyazato unholstered his pistol and assumed an exaggerated shooter’s stance and a ferocious mien. The pistol barrel drifted uncomfortably close to Bosman.
“Lieutenant, please explain what you are doing,” the Iceman demanded sharply.
“Nothing, sir,” the young officer said, relaxing Ms shoulders and letting the pistol droop.
“Why isn’t your pistol on safety?” Kolomeitsev asked in a deceptively mild voice.
“Oh, it isn’t loaded, sir!”
“Please place it on safety and give it to me, Lieutenant.” The young officer looked at the Iceman in disbelief and then complied.
The Iceman held the pistol in his hand and caressed the practice grips. “A pretty gun.”
The lieutenant missed die irony in his voice. “Yes, sir,” he said proudly. “It is a Nakamura target weapon. I had it specially made. The trigger sear is filed down for match shooting.” “Indeed. Are you sure that it isn’t loaded?” the Iceman asked, very firmly.
The lieutenant collected himself hurriedly, and the muscles in his throat moved. “Yes, sir.”
The Iceman leveled the weapon at the bridge of the young officer’s nose and thumbed the safety off. Then he smoothly shifted his aim a few centimeters to his right and squeezed the trigger. The pistol leaped in his hand.
The Iceman turned the pistol around to study the smoke drifting from the barrel. “You are correct. It has a very light pull.” Kudokawa and Akamine looked at him in shock. The Iceman removed the magazine, ejected a round from the chamber, and snapped the safety on. He handed the weapon back to its owner.
“Do not take that weapon off safety until you are returned to your compound,” Kolomeitsev directed. He began walking toward the forest edge where his helicopter was parked.
Leikola picked up the three officers’ assault rifles and handed them to Bosman. “Please follow us.” He added unkindly, “In the future, Lieutenant, please be more careful. Major Kolomeitsev prefers any loss of life to be intentional.” Predictably, Admiral Horii was absolutely furious when he heard about the incident, which left the Iceman completely unmoved. Even the ARM boys knew better than to hunt amphtiles in the Iceman’s forest.
Monday(310)
JOP1E VAN NUYS HUNCHED OVER THE TABLE AND SLAMMED THE
palm of his hand against the top for emphasis. “The only way to cleanse this planet of its Imperial stain is to execute more Imperials!”
Phillipbon drawled offensively, “Go have a beer while the rest of us deliberate, Jopie.”
“Stop that, Phillipbon. And you calm down, Van Nuys,” Gerrit Terblanche ruled. “We must all stick together.” He looked at the other faces in the cellar with him. “No one doubts the dedication of anyone here.”
The surviving leaders of the Afrikaner Resistance Movement were young but hardened. Terblanche, the eldest, was a few years out of school. Unlike his colleagues who had studied philosophy or social science, Terblanche was an engineer and tried to exercise a calming influence. Also, as one of the few Movement leaders who had not been forced underground, Terblanche had no intention of wasting all of his Christmas Eve on politics.
Withering under his gaze, Phillipbon looked down at the table and said in a more reasonable tone of voice, “Vereshchagin is sniffing at our heels. Executing a few Imperial soldiers on street comers won’t help us, it only convinces people tha
t we are gangsters.”
Van Nuys slammed his palm on the table again with a whip-crack sound. “The people must be educated!”/
The Movement had already uncovered traitors to the people in its ranks. Some of the bloodstains on the table hadn’t washed out completely.
“Enough, Jopie,” Terblanche ruled.
“We must plan our operations to achieve our goals, not to attract thrill-seekers,” Phillipbon said. “If we want to execute Imperials, we should start with the new admiral.”
“Why not Vereshchagin?” Van Nuys asked.
“Because we have tried twice and failed, or have you forgotten? But the new admiral will be unwary.” Phillipbon grinned. “Besides, the new Imperials don’t like Vereshchagin.” A few heads bobbed in agreement. “It is a good idea,” someone else said.
“Jopie, are you in agreement?” Terblanche asked pointedly. Van Nuys sucked in his breath. “We should continue street executions, but I agree that we should go after the fascist admiral. I wish the honor of carrying out that operation.” Phillipbon nodded, and Terblanche said, “All right. Come up with a plan that you can present to us.”
Van Nuys nodded proudly.
Van Nuys had been a militia private in Krugersdorp during the rebellion, and had chanced to be away visiting a girl when Vereshchagin’s recon men gassed his barracks. The other twenty-nine men of the Harmonie commando died that night. He remembered seeing their bodies. The nightmares came when he slept in a closed room.
* * *
LATE IN THE AFTERNOON, AN ARM MARKSMAN IN A STOLEN BAKKIE
truck fired at two Japanese officers on a Pretoria street comer, seriously wounding one of them as well as an elderly shopper.
Tuesday(310)
HALFWAY THROUGH A LONG, STILTED CHRISTMAS SERMON FROM A
young and earnestly liberal minister, Bruwer prodded her husband in the ribs, knowing full well that he knew how to sleep with his eyes open from his Academy days.
After church, Hendricka and her kitten filled the house with shreds of gaily colored gift-wrap, then Raul and Betje Beyers fixed Christmas dinner while Hanna completed her annual ritual of returning unopened presents to persons attempting to curry her favor. Brief notes accompanying the returned gifts explained that Madam Speaker only accepted gifts from her immediate family, that Madam Speaker’s husband didn’t accept gifts from anyone including his immediate family, and that Madam Speaker’s daughter owned too many toys already.
Robert Frezza - [Colonial War 02] Page 5
