A Time to Die c-13

by Wilbur Smith

  She is a bargaining chip. Surely You realize that."

  Slowly Sean's fury abated and he nodded stiffly. "Okay, China, what do you want?"

  "Good." General China nodded. "I was waiting for you to ask that question. Sit down." He indicated one of the stools facing his desk. "I'll order a pot of tea and we can talk."

  While they waited for the tea, General China busied himself with the papers on his desk, reading and signing a batch of orders t gave Sean a chance to recover himself When an orderly brought the tea, General China gestured for him to clear the papers from the desk.

  When they were alone again, China sipped at his mug and want. Well, I regarded Sean over Se rim. "You ask what it is I confess that at first it was nothing more complicated than must simple retribution. After all, Colonel, it was you that destroyed my command that day at the camp at Inhlozane. You put the only manent blemish on my professional career, and you inflicted Pc "Reason physical damage on my person." He touched his ear.

  I'm sure you will agree."

  enough for me to want revenge, Sean remained silent. Although he had not tasted tea in days and craved it, he had not touched the mug, which stood on the edge of the desk in front of him. Of course, I knew that you were operating the Chiwewe hunting concession. In fact, as a junior minister of Mugabe's government, I was one of those who gave approval to the grant. I thought even then that it might be useful to have you so close to the border."

  Sean forced himself to relax. He realized that he might learn more, achieve more, by a show of cooperation rather than defiance. It was difficult to do, for he could still taste Claudia's mouth.

  He picked up the tea mug and took a mouthful.

  "You certainly get around." He smiled. "Comrade one day, general the next. Marxist government minister one day, Renamo warlord the next."

  China waved a hand deprecatingly. "The dialectics of Marxism never truly interested me. Looking back now, I realize I enlisted in the guerrilla army for a very good capitalistic reason. At the time it was the best way to get on in LIFE--does that make any sense to you, Colonel?"

  "Perfect sense," Sean agreed. This time his smile was genumie.

  "It's a well-known fact that the only way communism can be made to work is if you have capitalists to pay the bill and manage the show' You phrased that very well." China nodded his appreciation.

  "I only found that out later, once ZANLA had ousted Smith and taken over the government in Harare. I discovered that as a former guerrilla I was feared and mistrusted by the soft fat cats who had avoided the actual fighting but now had taken control of the show.

  I saw that far from receiving my just rewards, I was more likely to end up in Chikarubi prison, so I allowed my capitalistic instinct to guide me. With a few other like-minded citizens, we were arranging another change of government, and we were able to convince some of my old comrades-in-arms, who occupied senior positions in the Zimbabwean Army, that I would make a suitable replacement for Robert Mugabe."

  "The good old African game of coup and counter coup Sean suggested.

  "It is refreshing to talk to someone who follows the reasoning so readily." China nodded approval. "But then you are an African, albeit of the less fashionable hue."

  "I'm flattered to be recognized as one," Sean told him. "But to return to your altruistic desire to put the best man in charge--"

  "All, yes... well, somebody boasted to a woman, and she told her other lover, who just happened to be Mugabe's chief of intelligence, and I was forced to cross the border in some haste, and here I fell in with yet others of my former comrades who now had joined Renaino."

  "But why Renamo?" Sean asked.

  "It is my natural political home. I am good at what I do, and Renamo welcomed me. You see, I am part Shangane- As you know, our tribe sprawls over both sides of the artificial line imposed by surveyors of the colonial era, who took no consideration of demographic realities when they agreed on borders."

  "If you are now a capitalist, General China, as you claim to be, then there must be more in it than that. Some future reward in store for you?"

  "You do not disappoint Me," China said. "You are as perceptive and devious as any African. Naturally there is something in it for me.

  When I have assisted Renamo to form the new government frica as its ally, between them they of Mozambique, with South A. They will will be able to apply irresistible pressure on Zimbabwe be able to force a change of government in Harare... a new president to replace Mugabe." in one mighty

  "From General China to President China bound," Sean cut in. "I'll give you one thing, General, you don't think small."

  "I'm touched by your appreciation of my aspirations."

  "But where does all this leave me? You talked earlier of revenge for your impaired hearing-what made you so forgiving?"

  China frowned and touched his ear. "To tell the truth, I would have enjoyed that. In fact, I had already planned a nocturnal raid on your camp at Chiwewe. I had moved up a unit of my men to the border opposite your concession and was awaiting only an opportunity to escape from my duties here for a few days personally to pay you a visit, when a change of plan was forced upon me.

  Sean raised an eyebrow to signal his interest and attention.

  "Very recently there has been a drastic alteration in the balance of power here in the celAral province. We of Renamo had fought ourselves into a domiAlant position. In fact, We control all the country except the thajor towns, we have reduced food production to the point where Frelimo must rely almost entirely on foreign aid, we have virtually strangled their transport system. We raid the roads and railways at will, and our forces move freely about the countryside, recruiting from the villages. We have, in fact, set up t changed our own alternative administration. However, all that very recently-"

  "What happened?"

  lately but stood up from the desk China did not answer immedi and went to stand in front of the wall map. "As a distinguished counter guerrilla fighter, Colonel Courtney, I do not have to explain our strategy to you nor do I have to lecture you on the weapons that we employ in the war of the flea. We don't fear nuclear bombs, heavy artillery, or modern pursuit planes. We chuckled when Robert Mugabe purchased two squadrons of fighters from his Soviet friends, obsolete MiGs, Floggers the Russians were pleased to be rid of and which Mugabe cannot afford to keep in the air. There are few, very few modern weapons we fear except"--China paused and turned to face Sean again' but you are the expert, Colonel. You know as much as any man alive about anti guerrilla operations. What do we fear most?"

  Sean did not hesitate. "Helicopter gunships," he said.

  China sat down heavily in his seat again. "Three weeks ago the Soviets delivered a full squadron of Hind helicopters to the Frehmo air force."

  Sean whistled softly. "Hinds!" he said. "In Afghanistan they call them the "flying death.""

  "Here we call them hen shaw-the falcons."

  "There is no air force in Africa that could keep a squadron of Hinds in the air for more than a few days-they simply don't have the backup. Sean shook his head, but China contradicted him quietly.

  "The Russians have supplied technicians and mumitions and tio spares, as well as pilots. They aim to smash Renamo in Six months."

  "Will they succeed? Can they succeed?"

  "Yes," China said firmly. "Already they have severely limited our mobility. Without mobility, a guerrilla army is defeated." He made a gesture that took in the dugout. "Here we cower underground like moles, not warriors. Our morale, which was so high just a month ago, is crumbling away. Instead of looking proudly ahead, my men cringe and look to the skies."

  "It's not an easy life, General," Sean commiserated with him.

  "I'm sure You'll come up with something."

  "I already have." China nodded. "You."

  "Me against a squadron of Hinds?" Sean chuckled. "I am flattered, but include me out."

  "That is not possible, Colonel. As the Americans say, you owe me one."

&
nbsp; He touched his ear. "And I owe you one-Miss Monterro."

  "All right." Sean nodded with resignation. "Spell it out for me."

  "The plan I have in mind requires a white face, a trained officer who understands black troops and speaks their language."

  "Surely, General China, you don't subscribe to old General von Lettow-Vorbeck's theory that the best bush troops in the world are

  2,16 black soldiers with white officers. Why the hell don't you do whatever this is yourselr"

  "I know my own limitations," China said. "I am a better administrator than a soldier. Besides, I have explained, I need a white face." He held up one hand to prevent Sean interrupting again.

  "Initially you'll be working with a small group. Ten men."

  "My Shangane escort." Sean was ahead of him. "That's the real reason you sent me off on that little jaunt with them."

  "Perceptive, Colonel. Yes, your reputation seems to be well founded. In just a few days you have gained their respect and, dare I say it, loyalty. I think they'll follow you on the most hazardous assignment."

  "I'll need more than ten Shanganes. There are two others I want with me."

  "Of course, your Matabeles," China agreed readily. "They are definitely part of my calculations."

  This was the opportunity to inquire about Job and Dedan that Sean had been waiting for. "Are they both safe?" he demanded "Quite safe and well, I assure you."

  "I won't even discuss anything further until I have seen them and spoken to them," he said flatly.

  China's eyes narrowed. "I beg you not to adopt that attitude, Colonel.

  It will only make our future relationship difficult and unpleasant."

  "I mean it," Sean repeated stubbornly. "I want to speak to my men General China glanced at his wristwatch, then sighed theatrically.

  "Very well." He lifted the handset of the telephone and spoke into it again, then looked up at Sean. "The two of them will be required to work with you, you can explain that to them. There is an excellent chance that, with all your cooperation, I will be persuaded to give you yot* freedom. Of course, that offer of freedom includes the nubileeMiss Monterro."

  "You are very generous." Sean was ironic.

  "Wait until you hear my full terms. You might think I drive a hard bargain." General China turned to the lieutenant who came through the doorway in response to his summons and said in Shangane, "Take this man to visit the two Matabele prisoners," he ordered. "You may allow them to talk for"-again he glanced at his wristwatch-"ten minutes. Then bring him back here."

  There were three men in the escort that marched Sean down the underground passages and out into the dazzling sunshine.

  The prison barracks consisted of a single hut of mud daub and thatch surrounded by a stockade of poles and barbed wire, the whole covered by a spread of camouflage net. A warder unlocked the gate to the stockade, and Sean went in. He walked to the door of the hut.

  Over an open fireplace in the center of the floor stood a black three-legged pot. Two thin mattresses of split reeds on each side of it were the only other furnishings. Dedan was asleep on one mattress, while on the other Job sat cross-legged and stared into the smoldering coals.

  "I see you, old friend," Sean said softly in Sindebele.

  Job came slowly to his feet and just as slowly began to smile. "I see you also," he said, and then they laughed and embraced, clapping each other on the back. Dedan jumped up from the other mattress, grin rung with delight, and seized Sean's hand, pumping it brutally.

  "What took you so long, Sean?" Job asked. "Did you find Tukutela? Where is the American? How did they catch you?"

  "I'll tell you all that later," Sean cut him off. "There are more important things now. Have you spoken to China, did you recognize him as the one we caught at Inhlozane?"

  "Yes, the one with the ear. What are our chances with him, Sean?"

  "Too early to be sure," Sean warned. "But he is talking about some sort of deal."

  "What?" Job broke off, and they both spun to face the door of the hut. Outside there was an abrupt shrilling of alarm whistles and wild shouts.

  4What s going on?" Sean demanded, and strode to the doorway.

  The gate to the stockade was still wide open, but the guards were scattering, unslinging their weapons and peering up at the sky. The lieutenant was blowing shrill hysterical blasts on his whistle as he ran.

  "Air raid," said Job at Sean's shoulder. "Frelimo gunships.

  There was one two days ago."

  Sean heard the engines now, very faint and distant, and the whistling whine of the rotors, growing swiftly shriller and more penetrating.

  "Job!" Sean grabbed his arm. "Do you know where they are holding Claudia?"

  "Over there." Job pointed through the doorway. "A stockade like this one."

  "How far?"

  "Five hundred meters. "The gates are open, and the guards are gone.

  We are going to make a bolt for it."

  "We are in the middle of an army. And what about the gunships?" Job protested. "Where can we go?"

  "Don't argue, let's go."

  Sean raced through the doorway and out of the stockade gates.

  Job and Dedan were close behind him.

  Which way?" Sean grunted.

  "Over there, beyond that clump of trees."

  The three of them ran in a bunch. The camp was almost deserted as Renamo took to their dugouts and bunkers, but Sean saw that there were crews manning the light antiaircraft guns in the fixed emplacements, and they passed a small detachment armed with the portable RPG rocket launchers heading for the nearest kopJe.

  Elevation would give them a good field of fire from which to launch. However, the RPG was not an infrared seeker and had very limited surface-to-air capability.

  The Renamo were so preoccupied that not one of them even glanced at Sean's white face as they scurried to take up their positions. Now the whistle of approaching rotors was punctuated by the crackle and rap of ground fire.

  Sean did not even look around. Ahead he saw the glint of barbed wire. The women's stockade was also well camouflaged under brush and netting, and it too seemed deserted by the female wardens.

  "Claudia!" he shouted as he came up to the fence and gripped the wire.

  "Where are you?"

  "Here, Sean, here!" she yelled back. There were two buts inside the stockade wire. The doors were locked and there were no windows. Claudia's voice came from the nearest building, almost drowned out by the thunder of engines, the shriek of rotors, and the roar of ground fire.

  "Give me a boost, "jean ordered, and backed away from the wire. The fence was seven feet high, he judged. Job and Dedan ran forward and crouched below it. Sean sprinted straight at them and, as he leaped up, he drove his feet into the cupped hands they had formed for him with interlocking fingers. In unison they bobbed up and flung their arms high, flipping Sean forward and over. He cleared the wire easily, somersaulted in the air, and landed on his feet. He cushioned the shock, tumbling like a paratrooper, and rolled smoothly back onto his feet, using his momentum to hurl himself forward.

  "Clear the door!" he yelled at Claudia as he built up speed and crashed into the crude hand-hewn panel. It was too solid and heavy to shatter under the drive of his shoulder, but the hinges ripped clean out of the daubed wall and crashed inward in a cloud of dust and flying fragments of dried mud.