by John Gardner
Boysie nodded. He had his eyes closed trying to remember all he knew about Suffix. “You’ve obviously been checking up on him. Tell me when I go wrong. Colonel Peter Suffix. Professional soldier. Regular Army. Served with Parachute Regiment. Axed in the late fifties and given the golden bowler. Kicked up a big stink in the press and offered his services to the highest bidder. Served as a mercenary in almost every major conflagration since then. And quite a lot of minor ones. Revolts. Specialist in assisting military coups. Responsible for some hideous carnage in the Congo. Some Tory MP once called him, ‘Undoubtedly a gallant gentleman, but unfortunately a very dangerous one.’ Anything else?”
“Yes. Rumoured to have most recently fought for Ojukwu in Nigeria.”
“And our flight is running into Angola. Mostyn and Suffix. It makes sense. Mostyn would sell his soul and not give a hang who got hurt. Weapons shipped out illegally for some kind of African stir up with Suffix in the lead. Mostyn gets the loot. The bastard. The four-letter effing, rotten …”
*
Boysie saw the teletype message the moment he entered his office the following morning. It sat square in the middle of his desk. The nasty nip in the guts came and went unheeded. He covered the distance between door and desk in three strides.
When he finished reading the message, Boysie shouted for Aida. He called four times: loudly, the name almost strangled at the back of his throat.
The teletype message read:
CHARTER FLIGHT E THREE-THREE-EIGHT GATWICK—LUANDA MADE EMERGENCY LANDING AT OTUKA THIS AM STOP FUEL SHORTAGE STOP DELAYED TWO HOURS SO RUNNING TWO HOURS BEHIND SCHEDULE STOP PASSENGER PETER SUFFIX DISEMBARKED LEAVING AIRCRAFT AT OTUKA STOP.
10
Etszika covers an area of approximately two thousand five hundred square miles. Its seaboard stretches for fifty or so miles along the western coast of Africa. This small tract of land has the Republic of Gabon as its northern neighbour and the Republic of the Congo (Brazzaville) to the south. The border between these two countries dissects Etszika’s frontier in the east.
Etszika was a small British colony, alone midst the French territories of Gabon and the Congo (once part of French Equatorial Africa), until it was granted independence in 1959. It then became the Republic of Etszika.
The people of Etszika are derived from two tribes, the Etsziki and Bowoni, and the country’s economy depends largely upon timber and agriculture, though in recent years the Etszikans have looked more and more towards light industry.
Etszika boasts four small, modern cities; its capital, Otuka, being the largest, is situated on the coast.
Etszika has a president who is elected for a term of seven years. The National Assembly, a one-house legislature, has thirty members.
There is an existing defence and aid treaty with Great Britain. The people are of a friendly and happy disposition and …
*
Boysie stopped reading and flung the encyclopaedia onto the desk. “Aida, I don’t want to know about Etszika’s people being happy and of a friendly disposition. I want to know about its president and the political brains around him. I want to know of plots and intrigues and all the little disturbances. The inner scene. Dig?”
“They’ve got an office in London. Shall I give them a call?” Aida tried to be helpful.
“No, for God’s sake don’t do it with officials. Stealth. Now think, do you know any Etszikans, or whatever they call themselves, in London?”
“Nope.”
“Well, go and think. Do your best.”
Snowflake Brightwater called an hour later.
“Your presence is required.”
“For what?”
“They wish to talk with you.”
“I can’t just up and leave my desk and come running when they see fit to call. I’ve got a job to do, honey. Where?”
“Here. My place.”
“When?” With the weary tone.
“Now. As quickly as you can.”
“What do they want?”
“I think it’s to underline their last instructions,” she whispered. “They don’t want you to blow anything before they are ready.”
“I’ll be there.”
Boysie took a truculent attitude with Frobisher, Pesterlicker and Colefax.
“I hope this isn’t a wild goose chase. I really must point out that I’ve got an office to run.”
“We send men for you and that’s not right …” began Frobisher.
“You must realise that you are, to some extent, in our employ, Mr Oakes.” Pesterlicker was speed testing his wheelchair in circles round Snowflake’s living room. “You did not like the way we called you last time. Now we have shown tact, respect, gentleness even. We wish to see you. We have called you to this lovely lady’s beautiful apartment. What more can we do?”
“Y-y-yes, M-man, y-you’re ge-getting t-too up-up-up-up …”
“Tight?” rasped Boysie.
“T-tight.” Colefax nodded.
“Well, it isn’t easy. I don’t like this business at all.”
“Do any of us?” Pesterlicker screamed to a halt in front of Boysie, making him flinch. “You are getting uptight and it is obvious. You are concerned about being involved in shipments of illegal arms. You are nervous about Colonel Suffix. You are worried about the involvement of your own employer: the man Mostyn.”
“Stuff Mostyn.”
“That is exactly what you must not do. That is why we’ve sent for you. When Mostyn returns you will behave towards him as you would to your closest friend. You will do nothing that might alarm or alert him. Have trust and faith.”
“Me,” said Boysie, his mouth wide. “Me, be nice to Mostyn? He’ll smell a rat.”
“We simply want you to behave normally. Can we have your promise on that?”
Boysie groaned. Promises, promises. He had to promise Mostyn that he would continue to operate Air Apparent. Mostyn in turn promised Boysie’s father’s ex-boss on a plate. Now, more promises.
Boysie raised his fingers in the old Wolf Cubs salute. “I promise that at all times I will do my duty.” It may not have been quite right but it was what came back into his memory.
*
Aida followed him into his office when he returned.
“Got it,” she said with triumph.
“Got what?” Everything was crowding in and Boysie had temporarily forgotten about Etszika.
“Mama knows someone in the Etszikan Embassy. I got to talk to him. Said I was doing a paper of West African politics.”
“And?”
“They are worried about the president. President Anthony. Apparently he’s a good old man brought up in the ways of Western democracy.”
“No wonder they’re worried.”
“Listen. He was re-elected for his second term of office in 1966. But, like everywhere else, there is change and protest. There are those who think he’s too weak.”
“Members of the National Assembly?”
“Yes, some there, but especially people: in the army. There is a small army: around nine hundred men. One of President Anthony’s most outspoken critics is General Bushway, Commander of the army. In the London Embassy, they fear that he may attempt a military coup. But some say the army is divided, that Bushway would need much help from outside.”
Boysie nodded. It made sense. However, it was really none of his business. Frobisher and company had already warned him off. He thought about the next flight, due out on June tenth. Would that be heavy with arms and ammunition as well? Who would be on board? Ordinary passengers bound for Luanda and from thence to Johannesburg? Or men like Colonel Suffix? Men with military ability selling themselves? There was a ready market for those who could shoot straight and had good stomachs. Christ, thought Boysie, we’re back to where I started. Mostyn’s always been in the hire and fire service for liquidators. He’s simply doing it on a larger scale now.
*
The camp was some twenty miles from the airport at Otuka: away from any main
road, deep in the forest.
The two black officers who had met Suffix at the airport went with him to the camp: one sitting in front with the driver, the other in the back with Suffix.
Suffix was pleased to note that the man in the back had a Colt .45 automatic on the seat between them. Suffix was unarmed.
You could only reach the camp by travelling along the narrow, hard, rutted track which wound and dipped through the forest. It was only just wide enough to take the car.
In the forest they were stopped three times. The men seemed to rise from the road in front without warning. Suffix used his eyes well. He could feel the weapons on him from the trees. But he could not see them. That was good. The task force was being trained well.
When they reached the camp Lieutenants Tilitson and Knox were there to meet him. They took him to his quarters: a small hut with a veranda. There were two rooms: one for sleeping, the other for day use. Facilities for washing were outside. He would share the field latrine with the other officers.
As soon as he settled in, Suffix unpacked his gear. Tilitson had brought over his webbing belt and holster, the service .38 which he preferred to the Colt .45, and his olive green beret. On the side of the beret was the silver embroidered cobra spitting fire. In this part of the world Suffix was often known as The Cobra.
The General arrived late in the afternoon.
“Peter, my old friend, it is good to see you. Now I feel safe.” He was a massive man. Thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old; at least six feet tall with great bull shoulders and a fine expressive head.
“It is good to see you, sir. We have much planning. Much talking to do.”
“Indeed. Things are not good. I am watched in the city. The officers loyal to the President are forming a tighter circle than I had thought. However, they think they are safe. There’s bound to be some complacency, and complacency is to our advantage.”
“Well, sir, we cannot act until after the eleventh when the rest of the equipment arrives.”
The General made an impatient sound. “That is what worries me. I don’t really like holding it that long. Still, the night of the eleventh would be ideal. There is to be a party at the President’s residence. They will all be there. It would be easy.”
Suffix clicked his teeth. “Then we’ll have to adapt, won’t we, sir.”
*
“What the devil gives with the Otuka bit? That really bugs me. It’s happened twice.” Boysie had managed to control himself during the hour that Mostyn had spent in the office.
Mostyn’s return was, as usual, silent, creepy, unheralded. Now Boysie felt he must at least face his employer with one question.
“Oaksie. Don’t get so upset.” Soothing. “What do you mean, the Otuka bit?”
“It happened on the first charter. It happened again last week. The aircraft made an emergency landing at Otuka. Why?”
Mostyn’s smile was really a sneer. “Because that’s the way we planned it, lad.”
“Then why plan it that way?”
“Try flying a 707 all the way without making a juicing stop. Look at the map, lad. You can’t get there in one hop. We do not want to draw attention to the trip, nor do we wish to invite trouble. Excelsior had a tacit agreement with Etszika: facilities for juicing at Otuka. The emergency landing signal’s simply for the look of the thing. Don’t you listen to anything they tell you at Excelsior?”
Boysie kept back his rage and held his tongue.
“Anyway,” continued Mostyn, “there’s a lot to do. We’ve got under three weeks to June tenth and I want a fully-booked aircraft. Once that’s over we can all breathe out and pass on the germs. I’ve brought the tickets down for you. Now get selling.”
It was becoming routine: a regular, normal operation. This time it seemed more enjoyable than ever to Boysie because he knew it was simply a matter of days. Either the flight would go as planned and they would catch up with Mostyn later, or, somehow, Frobisher and the others would move to stop things before the flight left. He began to acquire a sense of the fact that it was out of his hands. He even gave up thinking about the decision he would have to make: whether to use Griffin.
The only regret was having to tell the girls of Air Apparent’s demise. He put the moment off daily, telling himself that it would be easier tomorrow. It never was.
The weather was good. Snowflake Brightwater remained perfect. Frobisher, Pesterlicker and Colefax kept their distance and Mostyn did not often show up at the office. Boysie even started to feel secure. Until the sixth of June.
It was Saturday and the office was closed. Boysie slept late and was not even dressed when the bell rang.
Mostyn stood in the doorway, his face like thunder.
“It’s my day off,” said Boysie in his I-broke-no-arguments voice.
“My heart bleeds.” Mostyn advanced, closing the door behind him. “We have a problem.”
“You have a problem.”
“Excelsior’s let us down.”
“So we cancel the trip.”
“They haven’t let us down that badly, but enough to get me out of bed and put me in a menacing mood, Oakes. Excelsior can provide the flight crew and also an aircraft on the tenth. They cannot provide a cabin crew.”
“Your problem …” Boysie started. Then he stopped abruptly. He recognised the look in Mostyn’s eyes and the news slowly hit his brain, was unscrambled by the computers, and translated into answers. “Oh no. That’s not part of the deal. I don’t do that for anybody.”
“I have solved the problem.” Mostyn pushed close to Boysie. “And it’s got to stay solved because I’m off to Africa tonight. I have told Excelsior that we will provide our own cabin crew. One steward and three hostesses. You get to tell the hostesses.”
Boysie closed his eyes. In the foreground of his mind there was an elephant with its side splitting open into a gaping wounded mouth. Great teeth. White. Red. Blood red. The roar.
*
“That’s right. You can see plainly on this map. The president’s residence takes up one side of the Square of Independence, which lies directly behind the Square of the Assembly. In the Square of the Assembly we have the House of Assembly and the Government Administration Building.”
The General spoke quietly. It was their third meeting, sitting in Suffix’s day room. An armed guard was with them, and two soldiers were posted in front of and behind Suffix’s quarters.
“I thought from the start that the layout was favourable.” Suffix looked down at the large scale plan of Otuka spread before them. Some areas—the government buildings, main post office, radio and television stations, the airport—were ringed heavily in red pencil. Suffix’s eyes were centred on the area just indicated by General Bushway. Carefully he began to make more pencil marks, sealing off the three road entrances to the Square of Independence and the Square of the Assembly. “I want to get the army situation quite clear in my mind. You have isolated the regiment which is loyal to yourself?”
“The one that will obey my orders, yes.”
“And the remaining two regiments will be out of the capital?”
“Tomorrow they leave for exercises in the north. Forty miles away.”
“How quickly can they get back into the city?”
“In theory, within two hours. The roads are good. In practice, a good deal longer. The transport officers of both units are loyal to me. I also have several loyal officers and technical men.”
“So we can be certain of a delay of up to … eight hours?”
“Six.”
Suffix nodded. “It should be enough. Now security. What is the situation there?”
“The police force will obey the military. There is no doubt about that; and it will be my military in the first instance. I have also completely infiltrated the NSA, National Security Agency. There are only thirty of them. Eighteen are mine.”
“Any trouble and the other twelve …?”
“Quite.” The General spread out his fingers. “An
y trouble and they will be killed.” A statement.
Suffix was pleased. In matters such as this there was no room for hesitation or squeamishness. Suffix knew why he had been hired. The General was a military officer. in rank only. The man was an idealist; a politician not a soldier. Suffix would be the one in charge of the army that finally emerged. He would also be the one who had to make the military decisions on the ground.
“What other security aspects are there?”
The General leaned back in his chair. “Your own country. They are anxious that Anthony remains in power. From the activity you have experienced in London you know that they are alert. They have people in the country …”
“I don’t think that lot’ll want to shoot it out.”
“No. But the Government Security Corps will.”
“Uh-hu. And they are?”
“Virtually the president’s personal plain-clothed bodyguard. There are twenty of them. Their office is in the Government Administration Building and, I should imagine, they will have between seven and ten men on duty at the residence during the reception.”
“Any chance of isolating them?”
“No.” Firm and with a shake of the head. “They are very much Anthony’s men. I can make no penetration at all.”
Suffix pulled his notebook towards him and began to make detailed notes as he continued to question the General more closely about the Government Security Corps.
*
Ada answered the telephone with a long drawled “Yes?”
It is said that only those who have been reared in the snob class confines, or among serious debt, answer the telephone in this manner.
“Ada?” Boysie’s voice came out in a furtive whisper.
“Mmmm.” It meant the affirmative.
“Boysie.”
“Well, hallo, Oaksie.”
