Golden Fox c-12

by Wilbur Smith

  He ran Ramsey's name through their computer. They fink into the CIA computer. Our own security forces also have an open file on Ramsey de Santiago y Machado. In the three days since Nanny brought your journal to us, I have been able to discover quite a few interesting facts about your Ramsey.' He jumped up from the sofa and crossed to his desk. He pulled open one of the drawers and returned with a thick file which he slammed down on the coffee-table in front of her. Press cuttings and photographs and documents and reams of computer sheets spilled out from between the bulging covers.

  "This came in last night in the Israeli diplomatic bag from Tel Aviv. I didn't call you until I had studied it. It makes interesting reading." Shasa picked out a photograph from the pile. 'Fidel Castro's victorious entry into Havana in January 1959.

  Those are Che Guevara and Ramsey together in the second jeep.' He flipped over another glossy black-and-white print. 'The Congo, 19e5. Patrice Lumumba Brigade. Ramsey is the second white from the left. The corpses are executed Simba rebels.' He picked out another. 'Ramsey with his cousin Fidel Castro after the Bay of Pigs.

  Apparently, Ramsey was instrumental in gathering the advance intelligence of the landing.' He scuffled through the pack of photographs. 'This one is fairly recent. Colonel-General Ramsey de Santiago y Machado, head of the African section of the fourth directorate of the KGB, receiving the award of the Order of Lenin from General Secretary Brezhnev. Very handsome in his uniform, isn't he, Bella? Look at all those medals." She cringed away from the photograph as though her father held a black mamba.

  Garry leant across and took the photograph out of Shasa's hand. 'Is this Ramsey?' he demanded of her, holding it before her face. She dropped her eyes but would not answer.

  "Come on, Bella. You must tell us. Is this your Ramsey)' Still she refused to reply. Shasa had to shock her into acceptance. 'It is all an elaborate deception. He probably singled you out as his victim. He almost certainly arranged the abduction and the water torture of your son.

  He has been toying with you ever since then. Did you know that his nickname is El Zorro Dorado? It seems that Castro himself selected the name, the Golden Fox." Isabella's head jerked up. She remembered the remark made by Jose, the paratrooper, that had puzzled her at the time. "Pcle is the cub of the fox, El Zorro.' Somehow that was the last tiny detail that forced her to face the truth.

  "El Zorro - yes.' Her expression hardened. The first gleam of burning hatred showed in her eyes. She looked instinctively towards her grandmother.

  "What are we going to do, Nana?' she asked.

  "Well, the first thing we are going to do is rescue Nicholas,' she said briskly.

  "You don't know what you are saying, Nana,' Garry objected. His expression was stunned.

  "I always know what I'm saying,' Centaine Courtneymalcomess told him firmly. 'I'm putting you in charge, Garry. This takes precedence over everything else. You can have whatever you need. I don't mind what it costs. just get me that child. That's all that counts. Do I make myself clear, young man?" Garry's bemused expression cleared slowly. He began to grin.

  "Yes, Nana, you make yourself abundantly clear."

  Garry converted the gun-room at Weltevreden into his operations-room.

  He could have chosen any of a dozen better-equipped facilities in one of the Courtney conference-centres or boardrooms. Somehow none of these had the secure family atmosphere of this room, which had for so long been the centre of their lives. None of the others queried his choice.

  "This is restricted to the family. We bring in nobody from outside until it is absolutely necessary,' he warned them.

  He set up two large boards on easels, one each side of the desk. On one he hung a large-scale map of Africa, south of the Sahara. The second board he left blank for the time being, except for a photograph which he pinned at the top.

  It was one that Isabella had taken of Nicholas on the beach. He was in bathing-trunks, his hair tousled by seasalt and wind as he was laughing into the camera.

  "That's to remind me what this is all about,' Garry told them. 'I want to imprint that face on my mind. As Nana has said - from now on that is all that counts. That face. That child."

  49e He scowled at it. 'All right, young Nicky, where are you?' , He turned to Isabella, who was seated at the desk, and placed the heavy volume of 7ane's All the Worws Aircraft in front of her.

  "OK, Bella. Let's presume that it was a Russian military freighter that flew you from Lusaka to this base where you met Nicky. Let's find what type it was.' He opened the book in front of her and began turning the pages.

  "That's it,' she said, and stabbed at one of the illustrations.

  "Are you certain?' he demanded, and leant over her shoulder.

  '11yushin 117e. NATO reporting name Candid,' he read aloud. 'Yane's lists its estimated cruise speed as to 8oo kilometres an hour." He jotted it down on his navigation-pad. 'OK, you say the course was 3oo degrees magnetic and the flying time was two hours fifty-six minutes. We know it was on the Atlantic coast - let's mark that up on the chart." He went to the map and set to work with the dividers and protractor.

  "Garry' - Isabella was worried -'just because Nicky was there last year does not mean that he will still be there, does it?" 'Of course not,' he agreed without looking round from the chart. 'However, from what you tell us, Nicky seemed to be settled at that camp. He was in school and had been there long enough to make friends and build a reputation as a soccer-player - Pele?' He turned and beamed at her through his spectacles like a friendly goldfish. 'We know from both Israeli and South African intelligence reports that your friend El Zorro is still operating in Angola. He was spotted in Luanda by a CIA agent as recently as fourteen days ago. And we have to start planning somewhere. Until we find out for sure that Nicky is not there, we'll presume he is." He stepped back from the map. 'There we go,' he muttered. 'It looks like somewhere north of Luanda and south of the Zaire border. There are five, no, six rivermouths in that general area within a hundred miles of each other. Cross-winds could have made a ten-degree deviation in the Candid's course either way." He came back to the desk and picked up the large sheet of art paper on which Isabella had sketched from memory a map of the airstrip and river-mouth. He studied it dubiously, and then shook his head. 'It could be any one of the six rivers shown on the map.' He peered closely at the map.

  "They are the Tabi, the Ambriz, the Catacanha, the Chicamba, the Mabubas and the Quicabo - do any of those names ring a bell, Bella?" She shook her head. 'Nicky called the base Tercio." 'That is probably a code-name,' said Garry, and pinned her sketch-map beside Nicky's photograph on the second board. 'Any comments so far?'He looked across at Centaine and Shasa. 'What about it, Pater?" 'It's a thousand kilometres from the Namibian border, which is our nearest friendly territory. We can forget about any overland attempt to reach Nicky." "Helicopters?' Centaine asked. Both men shook their heads simultaneously.

  "Out of range, without refuelling,' Garry said, and Shasa agreed.

  "We'd be flying over a battle zone. According to our latest intelligence the Cubans have a solid radar chain covering the Namibian border and at least a squadron of Mig-23 fighters based just north of the border at Lubango." 'What about using the Lear?'Centaine insisted, and both men laughed.

  "We can't outrun a Mig, Nana,'said Garry. 'And they've got more guns than we have." 'Yes, but you can circle around them, fly 'way out over the Atlantic and come back in behind them. I know fighters can't fly very far, and the Lear can go to Mauritius." They stopped laughing and looked at each other. 'You think she got rich by being stupid?" Garry asked, and then addressed her directly.

  "Supposing we could get there in the Lear, then what? We can't land or take off - the Lear needs a thousand-metre runway. From what Bella tells us, it's a short strip and a guerrilla training base with South American or, more likely, Cuban paratroopers guarding it. They aren't going to hand Nicky over to us, not without an argument." 'Yes. I expect we'll have to fight,' Centaine nodded. 'So now it's time
to send for Sean." "Sean?' Shasa blinked. 'Of course!" 'Nana, I love you,' said Isabella, and picked up the telephone.

  "International, I want to put an urgent call through to Ballantyne Barracks at Bulawayo in Rhodesia." The call took almost two hours to come through, by which time Garry had telephoned the airport and spoken to his pilots. The Lear was already on its way to Bulawayo when Sean finally came on the line.

  Garry said, 'Let me talk to him,' and took the telephone out of Isabella's hand. They argued for less than a minute, and then Garry snarled: 'Don't give me that crap, Sean. The Lear will be at Bulawayo airport within the next hour to pick you up. I want your hairy arse on board, but pronto. I'll phone General Walls or Ian Smith if necessary. We need you here. The family needs you." He hung up and looked at Centaine. 'Sorry, Nana." 'I have heard the expression before,' she murmured. 'And sometimes a little strong language works wonders."

  Major Sean Courtney of the Ballantyne Scouts stood before the makeshift situation-board in the Weltevreden. gunroom and studied the photograph of his nephew. His promotion to major and second-in-command of the Scouts was only three months old. Roland Ballantyne had finally manoeuvred him into a full-time billet with the regiment.

  "You can see he's Bella's boy. Takes after her. Ugly little 4"

  brat.' Sean grinned at her. 'No wonder she's been keeping him up her sleeve." She stuck out her tongue at him. He was good for her; he gave her hope again. He was so hard and competent and tough-looking, he brimmed with such sublime confidence in his own strength and immortality that she had to believe in it, too.

  "When will they let you see Nicky again?' he asked, and she thought for a second. She could not tell him about the promise to give her access as soon as the Cyndex tests were completed. That would mean admitting to all of them that she was a traitress.

  "I think it will be soon. I haven't seen Nicky for almost a year. It must be soon. Days rather than weeks from now." 'You won't go,' Garry cut in. 'We aren't going to give you into their clutches again." 'Oh, shut up, Garry,' Sean snapped. 'Of course she has to go. How the hell will we know where they are holding Nicky, if she doesn't?" 'I thought. Garry began, his face flushing with anger.

  "OK, matey. Let's make a bargain here. I run the actual operation - you are responsible for all the logistics and back-up. How about it?" "Good!' Centaine cut in. 'That's the way we'll do it. Go on, Sean. Tell us how you'll carry out the rescue." 'OK. In broad outline, this is it. We will work out the details later.

  First of all we have to accept that it's a fully offensive operation. We are sure as hell going to run into heavy opposition. They are going to try to kill us - we've got to kill them first. We are not going to mess around.

  If we want Nicky, we have to fight for him. However, if things go wrong, we might have to face a political and legal storm both here and abroad. We might be deemed guilty of anything from terrorism to murder. Are we prepared to accept that?" He looked around the circle of attentive faces. They all nodded without hesitation.

  "Good. That's settled. Now for practicalities. We assume Nicky is being held in northern Angola at this coastal base. Bella goes in as she did last time. Once she is in position with Nicky she calls us in." "How?' Garry demanded.

  "That's your problem. You have Courtney Communications at your beck and call. Get them to come up with some kind of miniature radio or even a transponder. As soon as she is in position, Bella will activate it and give us a fix." 'OK,' Garry agreed. 'We have those electronic positionmarkers that we use for flagging aerial geological surveys. We should be able to adapt one of those. How will Bella smuggle it in?" "Again, that's your problem,' Sean told him brusquely. 'Let's get on with it. So Bella is in the target area. She gives us a fix. We go in-" "How?' Garry asked again.

  "There is only one way - from the sea.' Sean swept his hand across the map of the southern Atlantic and down to the nose of the African continent.

  "We've got the trawling and canning factory at Walvis Bay. One of those new long-range trawlers of yours, Garry, the ones you send down to Veerna Seamount. They'll do nearly thirty knots, and have a range of four thousand miles." 'Dairm it, yesp Garry beamed. 'Lancer has just finished a major refit in Cape Town docks. She is at sea at this very moment, on her way back to Walvis Bay. I'll tell them to hold her there, fully refuelled and ready for sea. Van Der Berg, the skipper, is a first-class seaman." 'Tell them to unload the nets and all the other heavy items we won't need," Sean added.

  "Right. I'll also arrange extra war and all-risks cover on the insurance policy. I know the way you bang up equipment.' Garry was becoming indignant. 'Hell, you went through four Landcruisers last year." 'That's enough squabbling.' Centaine brought them firmly back on track. "Tell us, Sean. Are you going to sail Lancer into this river?" 'No, Nana. We'll use landing-craft to run into the beach, inflatables with outboard motors. Do you know anybody at Simonstown naval base?" 'I know the minister of defence,' Bella cut in. 'And Admiral Keyter." 'Beauty!" Sean nodded. 'If you get the boats, see if you can also get permission for a dozen or so boat-handlers to volunteer for a little extra-curricular fun and games. Those naval commandos are hot babies, and they will fall over themselves for a chance at a good barney. Play up the fact that it's an ANC training base that we are going to hose down and that we'll be doing them a good turn." 'I also know the minister. I will go with Bella to see him,' Centaine agreed. 'I guarantee you all the special equipment you need. just give me a list, Sean." 'I'll have it ready by tomorrow morning." 'What about weapons - and men?" 'Scouts,' Sean told them. 'They don't come any better. I trained them myself. I'll need about twenty men. I know exactly who I want. I'll talk to Roland Ballantyneright away. Things are pretty quiet up there in Rhodesia at the moment, the rainy season. He'll let me have them. I might have to break one of his legs, but he'll let me have them. They'll need a couple of days of boat training, but they'll be ready to go by the end of next week." He looked across at Isabella. 'It all depends on you now, Bella. You are our hunting dog. Lead us to them, lass."

  Eleven days after she sent the Red Rose coded confirmation that Capricorn Chenacals had successfully tested Cyndex 25, Isabella received permission and instructions for a visit to Nicholas. She was instructed to take the South African Airways flight to London that refuelled in Kinshasa on the Congo river and to disembark at this stop-over instead of continuing on to London.

  She would be met at Kinshasa airport.

  "It's looking good.' Sean was jubilant as he placed his finger on the map.

  "Here's Kinshasa. It's within three or four hundred kilometres of the expected target area. They are going to pick you up on the doorstep, not the roundabout route via, Nairobi and Lusaka that they sent you on last time.' He looked across at Isabella. 'So they want you to take next Friday's flight? If it works out, that means you will probably be in position on Saturday, or Sunday at the very latest. We will sail from Walvis Bay in Lancer just as soon as I can get up there. The boys have finished their training, and all the equipment is on board Lancer. They have been sitting around doing nothing for almost a week - they'll be glad to be on their way." He studied the map and then punched his calculator. 'We can be in position one hundred nautical miles off the mouth of the Congo river by Monday the twelfth. How does that suit you, Garry?" Garry stood up and went to the map. 'I'll be waiting with the Lear at Windhoek Airport - here. I will make my first fly-over on the night of Monday the twelfth. I'll have to head out to sea at least five hundred miles before I can turn back. That's the estimated range of the Cuban radar net in southern Angola. Five hundred miles is well beyond the operational range of the Mig squadron at Lubango.' He touched the Cuban base on the map. 'All right, then I'll hit the coast at the mouth of the Congo here and fly south down the coast until I pick up the signal of Bella's transponder." 'Hold on, Garry,' Shasa intervened. "How's that working out?" 'The boys at Courtney Communications have done a damn fine job in the short time they had available.' He opened his brief-case. 'This is itp 'A bicycle pump?' Shasa a
sked.