Vereshchagin looked mildly embarrassed. “I seem to have fallen into the practice of doing perfectly horrible things to prevent worse things from occuning.”
Moore stroked her chin thoughtfully. “You know I can't make any kind of meaningful preparation without rumors leaking.”
“I know. I am counting on iL”
Moore stared at him. “I think I need more brandy. In fact, I think we both need more brandy.”
At noon, Steen's finance minister released figures he had been sitting on for three weeks trumpeting a 3 percent upturn in the economy over the previous quarter. The best previous forecast had been 2 percent, and cynical observers, aware that someone would take a spill if the figures were later revised, noted that the minister failed to renew the lease on his Johannesburg residence.
Wednesday (1172)
“HANNES, YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO COME IN HERE BEFORE I've had my coffee,” Klaes De Ia Rey said mildly. The Silvershirt leader studied the two reports Van der Merwe silently placed in front of him. “What are these?”'
“I pulled them from the stack of incoming material. The first one says that leave for soldiers in Coldewe's battalion was stopped early this week, Monday or Thesday---our source wasn't sure. The second says that the Pretoria hospital is preparing to handle a serious epidemic.”
“I suppose the first one has some meaning.” De Ia Rey scratched the end of his nose. “I don't understand what the second one has to do with anything.”
“Former Imperial lieutenant-colonel Eva Moore runs the hospital. Twenty years ago, she set up Vereshchagin's parrot-fever epidemic. I was a militiaman and after I was captured, I nearly ended up as one of the fifty men she sent out to infect everyone else.” Van der Merwe shuddered, perhaps remembering his interrogation.
De Ia Rey clutched the two reports. “What are you telling me?”
Van de Merwe shrugged “It is up to the president’s advisers to say--they have better sources than we do--but if it were me, I'd say that Vereshchagin is plotting an uprising.”
“We have to tell the president” De la Rey stood up. He reached over and held Van der Merwe by the shoulders. “Only we can stop them!”
ESKO POIKOLAINNEN INTERRUPTED HANS COLDEWE AS HE WAS DISCUSSING the machine tools the expedition would need with Major Jan Snyman. “Sir, do you have time to see Roy de Kantzow?”
“The Deacon?” Coldewe looked surprised. De Kantzow's broad shoulders filled the doorway. “Deacon. What brings you here?”'
Filthy DeKe, a platoon sergeant for No. 9 platoon before his marriage, stood to attention, as awkward as ever in civilian clothes. “I frosting hear you're looking for some soldiers.” The epithet “frosting,” from Earth's crack-up years, dated him.
'We are full up, DeKe,” Jan Snyman said quietly.
De Kantzow made no reply, waiting for Coldewe to speak.
“DeKe,” Jan Snyman continued, “you must be pushing fifty standard years.”
De Kantzow waited stoically, knowing that he and a man named Orlov and a dead man named Fripp had taught a boy named Snyman what there was to know about war.
“Don't you like being a civilian?” Coldewe asked. De Kantzow merely shook his head.
“Are you in condition? That’s a silly question. I'll have Natasha Solchava check you out, but you look to be in better shape than the day you retired,” Coldewe said.
The Deacon nodded
Coldewe studied the impassive face in front of him. “This isn't Tokyo, Deacon. I'm hoping there won't be any fighting, and if there is, we'll probably end up dead.”
“Frost it, sir, I don't miss that part of it, no.” De Kantzow searched for the right words. “It’s being part of something.”
“What about your wife?” Snyman asked.
“The silly bitch doesn't hold with swearing,”de Kantzow said mildly, “and she cooks worse than old Frippie ever did.”
Snyman, who knew de Kantzow's wife slightly, thought of her as three parts religion and half a part sense. They had no children. The truth was the Deacon had never adjusted to the civilian world, and probably never would.
Coldewe looked at Snyman helplessly. “What do you think, Jan?”
Snyman searched de Kantzow's eyes. “I already have my NCOs, DeKe.”
De Kantzow nodded abruptly. “I used to be a cracking good private.”
Coldewe threw up his hands in an outrageously theatrical gesture. “Start him walking.”
The 1/35th Rifle Battalion discouraged profanity; The Deacon breathed it. By long-standing arrangement. Filthy DeKe walked punishment tours on the first day of every month to atone for his transgressions for the next thirty.
De Kantzow saluted. “Yes, sir!”
Snyman shook The Deacon's hand solemnly. “I give up. Welcome aboard. Of course, as Hans likes to say, you may be leaping from the frying pan into the fire.”
“Be good practice for the place my wife says I'm going;” the Deacon noted.
Thursday (1172)
CURSING THE SILVER-SHIRTED IDIOT WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SCREENING HIS CALLS, Hannes Van der Merwe flicked his terminal on at the fifth ring. “What is it, Joachim?”
There was a worried look on Van der Bergh's puffy face as it appeared on the screen. “Heer Adjutant. there is a voice-only call you must take.”
Van der Merwe waved his finger impatiently. “You aren't grasping this, Joachim. You are screening my calls so that I don't have to take them, and I am screening the leader's calls so that he doesn't have to take them.”
Van der Bergh nodded nervously, then his face disappeared. Van der Merwe made an effort to pound the desk and stopped his hand in midair. “Vervlaks!” he said mildly. Then he froze as he recognized President Steen's voice.
“Adjutant Van der Merwe, is this call being recorded?”
“Yes, Heer President.”
“Please cease recording.”
Van der Merwe did so.
“We have reached a crisis point” Steen's voice hesitated. “Get De Ia Rey in here.”
Van der Merwe did so. De Ia Rey saluted the blank screen.“Yes, my President”
“De Ia Rey, Anton Vereshchagin's men are planning to mount a coup.” Bitterness tinged Steen's voice. “We cannot fight them.”
“We must announce this to the people,” De Ia Rey said, thinking aloud. “Arm them. My men will lead.”
“No!” Steen's voice barked “We have no proof. None! All of my advisers oppose this. Vereshchagin has undoubtedly made preparations, and the Uniate traitors hinder us. The people will
hear them murmuring Satan's song, and they will not know who to believe. Listen! Months ago, we discussed several plans.”
Van der Merwe could see sweat beginning to trickle down De Ia Rey's face.
“The Uniate leaders will meet in the National Assembly building on Saturday. I will ask for an emergency session at two o'clock, and it is their custom to meet together an hour before-- hand You must seize them there, and their documents. Then I will issue the call to arm the masses. Once you have the building and the traitors under lock and key, Vereshchagin will not dare attempt a coup. To clear the way, I have ordered Vereshchagin's C Company to leave Johannesburg.” Steen's voice hardened. “We will then take steps to deal with all traitors. But the fate of Suid-Afrika rests in your hands!”
De Ia Rey stiffened with pride. “Yes, my President.”
“A final warning---only persons you are sure of must know that you are preparing. Vereshchagin is watching, and Zalm tells me that there are traitors in your organization.”
“I will tell no one more than he needs to know, my President.”
“Good. May God guide your hands. Good-bye.”
Ashen faced, Van der Merwe looked at De Ia Rey. “Klaes, this sounds insane!”
“All we have to do is hold the building for a few hours.” The expression on De Ia Rey's face was exultant. “We will be a rallying point for the entire nation.”
>
“Klaes, I fought against Vereshchagin's men years ago and nearly got myself killed. Holding the Assembly building for a few hours sounds like a good way to do that.”
“We knew there would be risks when we joined. Are you with me to the death on this, Hannes? I need you.”
Van der Merwe nodded.
De Ia Rey clasped his hand. “You are the truly loyal one, Hannes, the only one who never tried to undermine me.”
Van der Merwe blushed.
De La Rey thought aloud. “We can't use men from the other districts, there is too much chance for our plan to leak. You told me yourself that Vereshchagin has spies in Boksburg and likely other districts as well. The men here are the only ones I trust. As soon as we are in control of the Assembly building, we will issue orders to the others to take to the streets.”
“You this sound very simple, Klaes.”
“But we have rehearsed an operation like this, Hannes!”
“No, we have played at rehearsing an operation like this.”
Van der Merwe hauled off and kicked the wall. “I was a militia soldier once, and you know my other background,” he said, alluding to his career as a terrorist who had, as De La Rey knew, just missed assassinating Imperial admiral Horii. “You cannot just throw together an operation like this as the president thinks. Damn! Damn, damn, damn!”
De La Rey put his arm around Van der Merwe's shoulder. “We two can do it. Our men are the best of any district. An order is an order, and the president ordered us himself. Cheer up, Hannes, the Volk rely upon us!”
“Damn!” Van der Merwe gave the wall a final kick. “I am trying to think. We will need all of our people. What about the two murderers we are hiding? The idiot who beat that man to death and the bomber?”
“Use them, but tell them nothing,” De Ia Rey said indifferently.
“We also need some sort of diversion to keep the Johannesburg police occupied.”
“I could order Pretoria district to hold a rally or a demonstration here.”
“It might get them shot” Van der Merwe meditated. “We could have someone from Pretoria phone in a robbery---no, tha’s not good enough.”
“What about a bomb threat?” De La Rey thought aloud.
“Why stop with one? Bomb threats! That will do the trick. I'll arrange it with Pretoria. Well, get all of the cell leaders in here, and then everybody else. Now!” Van der Merwe's face turned grim and foreboding. “We have two days. If we are going to do this, we can try to do it right. You had better have Boksburg or Pretoria send people to replace our men on the streets for the next two nights. but don't tell them why or everyone in the city will know.”
De La Rey frowned. “Hannes, be reasonable. We can't expect our men to prepare day and night!”
“No, but they will need some time for getting themselves drunk, and tonight is as good a night as any. I plan on doing the same.” Van der Merwe carefully unpinned one of the antidrinking signs he had posted. “Think of a good cover story to tell our men, maybe we can say we are planning to seize a
polling station. That way, by midnight, every barmaid in town will know.”
Friday (1172)
ANDRIES STEEN HAD NEVER FOUGHT A REALLY CLOSELY CONTESTED election, and he was unpleasantly surprised when his seemingly limitless lines of credit miraculously disappeared, although Christos Claassen and Saki Bukhanov may have had something to do with it
As the independent newspapers gleefully noted, funds were available at a price, payable upon delivery, and they referred to the emergency legislative session Steen called for Saturday afternoon as the Skuldbekentenis, which can either refer to an acknowledgment of debt or a confession of guilt.
Jan Snyman's C Company left Johannesburg and headed west for unscheduled maneuvers in the Vaal-Oranje Forest Reserve.
Saturday (1172)
“I KNOW THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR THIS, KLAES,” Hannes Van der Merwe said in a low voice as he methodically packed packets of ammunition into his pockets. “but seven people called in sick---nervous flu. We are down to forty-nine people. I had to rearrange the kommandos.”
De Ia Rey, resplendent in the decorations he had issued himself, looked around the room. “Where is Oscar? Don't tell me he is one of the seven!”
“No, I sent him out to find another vehicle. We are still one short.” Van der Merwe shook his head and laughed a little. “No one wants to use his own car for this.”
The Silvershirts around them sat and talked quietly. De Ia Rey had give the Operasie Spuungslang---Operation Spitting Cobra---s trike force Friday evening off, and some of the pitifully young men who had taken him up on the offer had their heads between their legs.
Van der Merwe made room for De Ia Rey to sit, then said, “What did you tell your wife?”
“This is not something that a woman would understand. She still says that I should never have given up the pharmacy for politics.”
“She has a point, you know.” Van der Merwe waved his hand to encompass the room. “You could make a fortune selling hangover remedies. I left my girlfriend a note. She will see it tonight when she comes home from work.”
“You should not have done that, Hannes,” De la Rey chided him. “That is a major breach of security.”
Van der Merwe blew away a speck of dust that had settled on his rifle. “Some things are more important than politics, Klaes.”
“Well, done is done, as I always say. I don't want to fight with you.” There were tears in De Ia Rey's eyes. “Of all of my subordinates, Hannes, no one could have done more to help me. You are the only truly loyal one.”
Van der Merwe looked away, faintly embarrassed. “I saw in the papers that the president announced the special session. The papers say that the campaign has cost him half again what he
expected and speculated that supporters who came through with large last-minute contributions want their thirty silver pieces in advance of the election.”
“He scheduled the session, and Coldewe's soldiers left Johannesburg yesterday, so our way is clear. The president always comes through on his promises,” De Ia Rey said confidently. “And that kind of talk from the newspapers is what we are fighting against. After the election, we will have a esponsible press.”
He was called away a moment later to take a call.
A young Silvershirt sidled up to Van der Merwe and swallowed hard “Adjutant, it isn't true what they are saying, is it?”
“What are they saying?”
“That the party wants us to be killed so they will win the election?” He wouldn't meet Van der Merwe's eyes.
“Who said that?” Van der Merwe looked around the room which suddenly quieted. “No. It isn't true. And don't repeat your question to another soul.”
”But-”
“Not one word. That is an order.” Vander Merwe turned his head as the boy scuttled away. No one saw him smile.
De Ia Rey returned a moment later, his face serene. “That was Zalm. Voice only again. They must be very nervous up there. The president directed him to tell us that the plan is still on. Do you think Zalm knows?”
“I hope not” Van der Merwe watched his cell leaders, many of whom were hardly more than boys themselves, check weapons and equipment
De Ia Rey handed Van der Merwe a copy of the proclamation he had drafted.
“This looks good, Klaes.” Vander Merwe pocketed it
“I wish we could have gotten another machine gun.”
“I wish we could have gotten another machine gun and a mortar and a recoilless gun, and maybe a couple of tanks.” Van der Merwe shrugged. “If wishes were fish, children would cast nets. I see a truck. That must be Oscar. I told Pretoria to make the bomb threats at 11:15. Let’s get everyone loaded.”
The strike force loaded into four trucks and three cars, which would travel separately to the Assembly building to avoid attracting suspicion. When the car carrying De Ia Rey and Van der Merwe reached Vaterlandpl
ats, Van der Merwe stuck his head out the window. “I see Biks and Stoeffel waiting for us, but there must be half a dozen policemen in the plaza.”
“There is no help for it,” De Ia Rey said. “Everyone else should be around back waiting for us.”
They slowed as they drove closer, and a Johannesburg policeman walked over and rapped on the driver's window.
“I am sorry. You can't come here, right now.”
De Ia Rey froze. Van der Merwe reached down, grabbed his rifle, and leveled it at the bridge of the policeman's nose. “Yes, I can.” The policeman was sensible enough not to argue. Van der Merwe turned to De Ia Rey. “I will take care of this, Klaes. Get everyone else inside.”
Van der Merwe got out, using the policeman as a shield, and took his pistol. He motioned for the other policemen to leave the square as De Ia Rey and his storm detachment ran toward the Assembly building. As an afterthought, Van der Merwe handed the policeman a copy of De Ia Rey's proclamation.
Reaching the building, be found two Silvershirts guarding the door and a few more doing nothing. “What is going on? Where is everyone?”
De Ia Rey emerged from the inner chamber trailing a halfdozen men. “Hannes, the place is empty! Where are the Assemblymen?”
Before Van der Merwe could respond, one of the door guards murmured diffidently, “Sir, the policemen outside are shouting that there is a bomb in here.”
There was a pregnant silence.
The door guard persisted, “Sir, what if there really is a bomb in here?”
“Small chance of that,” Vander Merwe finally said. “I think we can say Pretoria district did its job. Klaes, is it too late to go back outside and pretend we made a mistake?”
”We must hold this building. The president is counting on us,” De Ia Rey reminded him. “Also, we have already handed out our proclamation.” He looked out the door anxiously. “Where is Oscar with the other truck?”
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