“Colonel Sumi will probably execute hostages. I hope that he does not take any members of your family hostage.”
“I expect him to execute my family members. But a true revolutionary should never be moved one centimeter from the correct revolutionary path by such concerns, Hannes. Besides, they are all bourgeois. My true family members are my revolutionary brothers and sisters. You will need to understand such things before you can be on the executive, Hannes. Even expressing such concerns can leave you open to charges of devi-ationalism.”
“Of course.” Van der Merwe stumbled. “Keep going. I think that I have a stone in my shoe. I will catch up with you in a second.”
He reached under a rock and found a wave pistol that he had placed there the previous night. Running up behind Van Nuys, he silently shot him in the back.
During the rebellion, Raul Sanmartin had squeezed information out of Hannes Van der Merwe like a wet cloth. In return, he had promised to keep some of Van der Merwe’s friends alive, and after the rebellion, he apologized to Van der Merwe and explained why.
“In your whole life, Jopie, you never apologized or saved a friend, did you?” Van der Merwe said quietly.
Pulling the radio control out of Van Nuys’s pocket, Van der Merwe ran up the hill. Eventually, he reached a pay phone and dialed up Senior Intelligence Sergeant Resit Aksu, Sanmartin’s most experienced operative. “Resit,” he said apologetically, “I think that I have blown my cover.”
On a ridge overlooking the parking lot eight hundred meters away, Lieutenant Thomas, Vereshchagin’s reconnaissance platoon leader, set aside his sniper’s rifle and breathed a long, long sigh of relief. Since the first word came through from Van der Merwe, Thomas had been waiting on the ridge six hours a day for four days. Incontestably the best shot in Vereshchagin’s battalion, Thomas could have shot the buttons off Van Nuys’s shirt, although the exploding rounds he was using would have had a different impact.
It was, nevertheless, a great relief to Thomas. Under the circumstances, it would have been very much a “pressure” shot, and more so if Van der Merwe had changed his mind and walked past the hidden pistol.
Moments later, Raul Sanmartin was on the telephone to Admiral Horii’s aide, Watanabe. “Captain Watanabe, this is Captain Sanmartin, Major Haijalo’s executive officer. Please move everyone out of Admiral Horii’s office for a few hours. You might want to clear the adjoining offices as well, just in case ... It would take me a while to explain. Just tell the admiral that my armorer, Rytov, and I are on our way to defuse the situation. See you in a bit.”
ADMIRAL HORII LISTENED TO SANMARTIN’S EXPLANATION WITH A
great deal of interest. “And these missiles are aimed at us? Colonel Sumi will be furious, neh, Watanabe?”
“You could have been killed!” his aide responded, horror-stricken.
“You would have been with me, Watanabe, so that it would not have been any extra bother for you.” Horii returned his attention to Sanmartin. “This incident will not reflect well on Colonel Sumi. He will wish to take immediate action against the ARM.”
Sanmartin smiled. “We already have. We caught a man named Terblanche who is a member of their executive. We didn’t want a public arrest, so we just sent a team in through his office window. I understand that he was quite surprised.”
“Colonel Sumi will wish to question him.”
“I would recommend against it. If I promise Terblanche to turn his people over to the civil authorities rather than Colonel Sumi, it is possible that I can use him to pull in the rest of the ARM’s executive. Of course, if I made such a promise, I would have to make sure that it was kept,” Sanmartin said in a carefully neutral tone of voice, watching Horii’s eyes.
“This would seem to be a very difficult matter,” Horii said.
“Surely it is impossible. These men have murdered Imperial soldiers,” Watanabe said, outraged.
Sanmartin gave him an amused look.
“How do you propose to persuade Terblanche to cooperate, Captain Sanmartin?” Horii asked.
“We have three or four more hours before people realize that we have him. Terblanche thinks that 1 caught Jopie Van Nuys and persuaded him to turn his coat, so that it’s only a matter of time before we mop up the ARM. He knows what will happen if I turn him over to Colonel Sumi. I think he’s willing to cut a deal.”
There are three elements to “turning” someone: a carrot, a stick, and a strong reason to believe that there is nothing fundamentally dishonorable about cooperating. Sanmartin had plenty of carrots and sticks in his bag, including one “revolutionary sister” who was a girlfriend from Terblanche’s prerevolutionary days and for whom Terblanche clearly felt more than fraternal feelings. But without a persuasive argument that cooperation would salvage something—the lives of Terblanche’s revolutionary' “brothers” from what would otherwise be a complete debacle—Sanmartin had no way of persuading Terblanche to cooperate short of breaking him into small pieces, and no interest in trying. For one thing, he had made promises to several ARM members that he and Aksu had recruited, including Hannes Van der Merwe. For another, Terblanche’s girlfriend was a first cousin of Maria Viljoens.
Horii considered. “I imagine that Colonel Sumi could persuade Heer Terblanche to cooperate without the need for the condition that Captain Watanabe finds so distasteful, don’t you think?”
“In this case, Colonel Sumi’s methods may be counterproductive,” Sanmartin said coolly. “Also, my wife has scruples, and I may have acquired some.”
“Indeed.” Horii studied Sanmartin for a few moments. “You may try your methods. Colonel Sumi will be very irate, I imagine. If you fail, we can allow him to try his.”
Sanmartin smiled faintly. “I intend to have Terblanche call an emergency meeting of the ARM executive. It would be nice if they thought they’d succeeded in assassinating you.” Sanmartin pulled the radio control out of his pocket and offered it to Admiral Horii.
“Indeed.” With a glance at Watanabe, Horii pressed the button. A second or two later, a loud explosion rocked the building. Shouting and the sound of rapid footsteps filled the corridor outside.
Sanmartin stood up and bowed slightly. “With your permission, honored Admiral, I’d better get out of here before your people get too excited. I might mention a call I got from the police yesterday. Someone left a bundle of bank notes on the doorstep of a well-known ARM sympathizer, along with a typewritten note that read, ‘for the cause.’ He suspected a trap—probably incorrectly—and turned it in. I wonder who left it there. And why.”
“I agree. It is a quite unsophisticated method of delivery,” Horii murmured.
As the dobr closed behind Sanmartin, Watanabe asked, “Honored Admiral, you will permit Captain Sanmartin to turn these assassins over to the civil authorities?”
“Captain Sanmartin is correct to strike quickly. When you have closed with the enemy, you must hit him as quickly and directly as possible, in one timing. I will keep my bargain, Watanabe. Until conditions change,” Horii said dreamily. “Colonel Sumi will be veiy irate.”
LATE THAT NIGHT, BEYERS WAS AWAKENED FROM A FITFUL SLEEP BY
a knock on his door. He pulled the coverlet over his wife and padded into the hall in his night robe. Tom Winters was already there and motioned, indicating that all was in order.
Major Piotr Kolomeitsev was waiting on the pavement outside. “My regret for disturbing you, Heer President, but it is a matter of some urgency. I have two transport loads of student terrorists, forty-seven of them, from the ARM’s ‘Liberation Combat Detachment,’ which has been in the forests—I hesitate to use the term ‘operating’—these last few months. Raul has made a deal with Admiral Horii to turn them over to your judicial authorities, and it would be prudent to hand them over before Colonel Sumi learns we have them. My landrost in Bloemfontein is not in his bed, and for once I do not know whose bed he is in.”
“I will make the call,” Winters said, and went to the phone. “Yes. R
aul turned over nine members of the ARM’s executive a few hours ago,” Beyers said slowly. “Would you care to come in, Major? I am sure I can find you a cup of tea.” Kolomeitsev shook his head regretfully. “No, I must decline, Heer President. I know my people will not sleep until I do, so the sooner I get back the better.”
“Is this all of the ones in the forest?”
“No, we have another nine in bags,” Kolomeitsev replied, “for a total of fifty-six.”
‘The poor boys.” Beyers sighed, as Hanna Bruwer joined him by the door. “Which of them are the leaders?”
The Iceman smiled, slightly. “These are followers. The sheep, if you will. When the occupants of the Liberation Combat Detachment’s command tent began exhorting their followers to resist us, we obliterated it, which had a salutary effect on these others.”
“I hope that we can integrate them into our society after they get out of prison,” Beyers said, running his hands through his thinning hair.
“These? They run to a type,” Kolomeitsev said indifferently. “In six months I can make whatever you want of them. Sober citizens, pacifists, fascists, communists, ministers of God if you like. Ask Anton.”
“Soldiers?” Bruwer asked.
The Iceman shnigged. “Soldiers, too. Not especially good ones, I am afraid, but yes, even soldiers.” He added with glacial unconcern, “This finishes the ARM. They have sympathizers left in the cities, but in every civil war there comes a time to overlook some things.”
“I will tell the landrost to give you a receipt to show Colonel Sumi,” Beyers said.
“One question.” Bruwer laid her hand on Beyers’s arm. “Piotr, the information that led you to this ‘Liberation Combat Detachment’ did not come from Terblanche or the other captured ARM leaders, did it.”
Kolomeitsev smiled and bowed very slightly. “No. We knew where they were. It is, after all, my forest. But as Anton said, they were feeding themselves and doing no real harm, and they were at least as miserable as they would have been in jail. With the ones in town rounded up, Anton thought it would be best to make a clean sweep. We have played the ARM card about as far as it can be played.”
“Thank you, Major,” Beyers said, glancing at Bruwer. “Please thank your men for me.”
“I will do so. Heer President, Madam Speaker, I bid you good night.” Kolomeitsev saluted and left.
Wednesday(312)
“HONORED COLONEL, I REVIEWED THE JOHANNESBURG CONFINE-
ment facility as you directed,” Yanagita said, standing stiffly at
attention. “It would appear that the facility is adequate to hold the captured ARM terrorists securely.”
Sumi looked up. “Sit.”
Yanagita did so, nervously. Beholden to two masters, the peripatetic intelligence officer had thus far managed to serve both without offending either.
In the comfort of his quarters, Sumi was wearing traditional garb. His uniform hung where his orderly had left it out for him. He drank deeply from a flask of sake beside his elbow and resumed buffing an immaculate sword. “Do you own a sword, Yanagita?” he asked, gently stroking the bare metal. “Only my Academy blade, honored Colonel.”
“You should get yourself a really good one. See? Feel this.” Sumi held his sword out for Yanagita to see.
“It is very impressive,” Yanagita said, touching the weapon gingerly. “You hardly ever see such exquisite craftsmanship.” “It was made by Sukesada,” Sumi said with obvious pride. “The metal has been folded over and beaten ten thousand times.”
Yanagita lowered his head deferentially. “It is a beautiful weapon, honored Colonel.”
Sumi drained the sake flask and flung it across the room. “The cheap trash that people make these days would bend the first time you tried to cut though someone’s neck, but the man who crafted this understood swords.”
He stood and took a small practice cut. “After you use a sword like this one, whenever you look at someone, you make a judgment as to whether he has an easy neck to cut or a difficult one. The best necks aren’t too skinny, or too fat either. With a good neck, you cut—like so—and the head falls easily, like a flower.”
Yanagita realized with a touch of panic that the security police colonel spoke from the heart and from personal experience.
“Our military forces have become degenerate in this age, Yanagita. Officers lack true Yamato spirit. Admiral Horii,” Sumi said, with absolute contempt, “does not even own a sword.” He resumed polishing the weapon. “Has Matsudaira-san spoken to you about the land tax?”
“Yes, honored Colonel. At some length.”
“It is shameful that this situation is allowed to continue,” Sumi declared vehemently.
Admiral Horii having shown little interest in resolving the situation, Daisuke Matsudaira was beside himself.
“It is shameful,” Sumi said, half to himself and half to Yanagita. “Please ensure that other young officers know this, Yanagita.”
THE NEXT EIGHT DAYS PASSED RELATIVELY QUIETLY. AS HANS
Coldewe pointed out with what could have passed for wit, the Assembly wasn’t in session, so everyone’s purses were safe.
WATER
Friday(313)
WALKING INTO HIS MORNING STAFF MEETING, ADMIRAL HORII NO-
ticed that Lieutenant-Colonel Vereshchagin was not present. Quickly scanning the faces of his officers, he murmured to Watanabe, “Today?”
Captain Watanabe hung his head and whispered, “Yes, honored Admiral.”
“Akiramemasa, ” Horii responded, indicating that he was resigned to the situation and accepted it.
After concluding with routine business, Colonel Sumi stood. “Honored Admiral, your staff has a recommendation on appropriate resolution of the political situation here.” He walked over and placed a ringi in front of Horii.
Glancing at the seals on the document, Horii saw that each of his staff and senior officers had concurred in its contents.
“In that this is a political matter, I would urge you to give it careful consideration,” Sumi said with politely veiled scorn.
Although Sumi’s ringi was vaguely phrased, Horii could see that he proposed to dismiss the civil government and to take “precautionary” measures to resolve the problem posed by “foreign” officers.
“I hope that all aspects of this matter have been carefully considered,” he said deliberately.
“Shall we cover our ears while stealing the bell?” Sumi demanded, referencing an incident in China’s “Spring-Autumn” period. “Failure to dismiss the civil government fools no one and merely makes it appear that we lack resolve to take forceful actions.”
Against the united opinion of his officers, Horii took refuge in mokusatsu—lofty silence. He did not agree with the advice he had been tendered, but he could avoid unpleasantness, at least for the moment.
Colonel Enomoto, the commander of the Lifeguards Battalion, noted his displeasure. “I think that it is our earnest wish to give you the best possible advice, honored Admiral. After you have had an opportunity to review the matter, we should then discuss the actual implementation.”
“I agree,” Horii said.
Afterward, in the privacy of the temporary quarters he had assigned himself while his former office was under repair, Horii spoke sadly to his aide, Watanabe.
“Ah, Watanabe. These things that Matsudaira wants, what do they truly matter so far away from the homeland?”
To ease his admiral’s qualms, Watanabe said, “Honored Admiral, the people here are tanin, so perhaps it should not be viewed as a matter of great consequence,” indicating that Suid-Afrika’s inhabitants were not tied into the intricate web of social, business, and family contacts that bind Japanese together.
Horii reproved him. “All men are one under the eyes of heaven, Watanabe.” He sighed deeply.
“I do not understand, honored Admiral. What possible danger could there be? Resistance here has been crashed twice over!” Watanabe said, genuinely perplexed.
“No, honored Admiral.”
“You should read about him. He was a very insightful man.”
“Please tell me what in particular I should read, honored Admiral.”
“I suppose that I should, Watanabe,” Horii said, the old proverb that a man away from home need feel no shame flitting through his mind.
“He said that officers who are brilliant and lazy make good commanders, that officers who are brilliant and energetic make good staff officers, and that officers who are stupid and lazy may be retained because they will not rise to positions of great responsibility and can be trusted to perform dull duties. However, he urged generals to immediately rid themselves of officers who are stupid and energetic, saying that there can be no greater danger.
“Colonel Sumi,” he said, betraying his thoughts, “is a very energetic officer. He believes that if a bird will not sing, we should kill it.”
“Perhaps we can make the bird want to sing, honored Admiral.”
“Or perhaps it would no longer be necessary for the bird to sing if we waited long enough. But no man can escape the workings of fate, Watanabe. No man.”
Saturday(313)
WHEN BRUWER AWOKE, SHE TURNED OVER AND FOUND SHE HAD A
husband again. Tapping him on the shoulder, she said, “Raul, when did you come in? I didn’t hear you.”
“Around midnight.” He sneezed twice and wiped his nose. “I told Matti I deserved at least one night a week at home in a real bed.”
“Hendricka is probably awake by now, and if she hears your voice, she will be in here like a little rocket. What happened yesterday?”
“Our battalion’s in trouble again. One of the Manchurians who tortured an ARM sympathizer named Breytenbach to death made the mistake of bragging about it in front of a couple of Sversky’s boys. They smiled, bought him a couple of drinks, and then took him outside.”
“Oh, no,” Bruwer exclaimed.
Robert Frezza - [Colonial War 02] Page 13