Per Fine Ounce

by Peter Vollmer

  Bloody Americans — why did everything have to be reduced to an acronym? WMDs? God, just call it a bloody atom bomb!

  However, Peace knew Barkly was right. This was payback time, and Van Rhyn had to die, no matter what it took. He was the driving force behind this Afrikaner movement.

  As they prepared to abseil down the side, Cherry was just about to step over the small ledge to begin her descent when suddenly, Peace held out an arm and stopped her. He pointed and they all looked in the direction to where he gestured.

  Two SUVs had appeared and stopped in front of the Die Herberg. Several people filed out of the building. He saw Van Rhyn and General Booyens were among them.

  “Possibly going to find out what the hell’s going on since they probably can’t understand what the military is doing out there. At least I can’t see any weapons,” Peace said.

  The vehicles drove rapidly towards the main gate and passed through. Just then, a South African Army Land Rover appeared in the distance, braking sharply next to the SUVs. South African Air Force officers alighted from the vehicle and started a discussion with those who had climbed from the SUVs. Peace was surprised to see the parties shake hands. They stood around for a few minutes, clearly having a rather in-depth conversation considering the gesticulating. The parties then returned to their vehicles where all of them, including the Land Rover, did a U-turn, and returned to the Die Herberg in the complex. This took a few minutes.

  “Obviously, somebody’s performance was quite convincing. Van Rhyn and his lot certainly appeared satisfied. It seems our bogus troops have been accepted,” Barkly said.

  “C’mon, let’s go,” Peace said, clearly impatient.

  Cherry went first, her familiarity with the routine obvious as the turnbuckle on her harness drummed while she deftly let the rope slide through her fingers. She then swiftly dropped to the ground where she remained crouched. Peace immediately followed with the two Americans close behind him. The ropes had to be left but there seemed little likelihood they would be discovered.

  A cemented road circled the hangar’s perimeter on three sides. This was bordered by a wide swath of bare ground on its outer side on which some wild bush and scrub had taken root. The ground on the side of the hangar that faced the sea was levelled and concreted to where the ground began to fall away towards the water. Two railway lines, exceptionally wide apart, were laid in the cement and disappeared under the huge hangar doors that sealed the building. At the other end of the concrete strip and at least four hundred yards from the hangar, an illuminated steel gantry rose into the night sky, the highest point demarcated by a single red light. Beyond this structure a four-hundred-yard-wide strip of the coastal dunes commenced, which acted as a barrier to the sea. The edge of the dunes fell away directly into the sea with only a narrow beach to be seen.

  No further word was spoken; they knew their objective — the interior of the hangar.

  Other than the massive hangar doors through which the rocket would pass, there were only two entrances to the building — one facing the road, which they immediately dismissed as this would put them in sight of Die Herberg, and the two watchtowers near the road. The only other entrance they could use was that which adjoined the huge sliding doors of the hangar. This was also a steel double door sliding entrance, but was large enough to accommodate large transport vehicles. If anything large was to be offloaded, it would be through this entrance it would pass.

  Peace thought of the bombs. This had to be their objective. They noticed that the sliding doors had a small access door built into it.

  Crouched low, they scurried along the building’s side, one after the other, with Barkly taking the lead. On reaching the corner of the building, he signalled they should stop and all lie down on the ground. He called Peace forward. Cautiously, Peace peered round the corner. No one was to be seen, but what he did see under the huge doors was a line of light from within the hangar and he could hear the distinct whine of machinery. Somebody was using a grinder.

  Croxley was immediately behind them so Peace turned.

  “We’re lucky. They don’t seem to have been put off by the disturbance outside, so they’re obviously not expecting intruders. Let’s hope they stay busy,” he hissed.

  Croxley nodded. Barkly whispered to Peace to look again, stepping back to let him pass.

  The sliding double doors were only a few feet away, the gap at the bottom about two inches through which light streamed. The light from behind the sliding door clearly outlined the small pedestrian door within it. He was about to step back to confer with Barkly when suddenly the small door opened inward, sending a bright shaft of light along the concrete apron. A man in uniform stepped over the sill, an automatic carbine with its steel stock folded back hung from his shoulder and its pistol grip held in one hand. They all tensed at the noise associated with the opening door. As the sound of booted feet approached, Peace drew back from the corner, every muscle tensed in anticipation of the man’s appearance.

  The man appeared around the corner and when he saw them, his eyes widened in surprise. It was obvious that the last thing he expected was to find somebody there — especially clad as they were with their weapons and balaclavas. His reaction was immediate and he tried to raise the carbine muzzle.

  Peace’s movements were a blur. He stepped forward, and gripping his H&K USP9 automatic by its silencer, swung the butt of the gun down at the man’s head. A sickening crack rang out, followed by the man’s legs folding under him as he crumpled to the concrete.

  Barkly bent to examine him. “I think he’s dead,” he said.

  “I know, I hit the bastard as hard as I could. We’ll have to get rid of the body. Shove it deep into the scrub and bush over there,” Peace whispered, his voice cold. He pointed at the adjoining virgin ground. Barkly and Croxley dragged the body across the rough concrete with the man’s boots and clothing making a rasping sound. Cherry threw the man’s weapon into the bush too.

  Peace guessed that the small access door was still unlocked. They were dressed in black and if they stepped into a brightly lit hall, there’d be no mistaking them.

  “Silencers,” he said. The others knew what he meant — no automatic gunfire. “This’ll take balls. Ready?” he enquired with a glint in his eye.

  “I’ve got mine,” Cherry retorted.

  Croxley snorted at her attempt at humour but smiled.

  “Here goes,” Peace said with an intake of breath.

  Steeling himself, he pushed against the door. There was a click and the door swung open, giving him his first glimpse of the interior. He stepped to the side and turned to flatten his profile, only part of his face visible to any on the inside. As expected, this was brightly lit by huge mercury-vapour lights strung along the top of the ceiling in rows way above them. He immediately noticed two elevated walkways attached to the side of the hangar with steel stairways at each end, both giving access to the catwalks which were about twenty feet from the ground. Now that they were inside, the sound of activity was much louder.

  He soon realised there had to be a whole workforce in the hangar’s interior. The catwalks were vacant, which was a relief. Had there been guards they would easily be detected, dressed as they were. Plan B would then come into effect — overrun the site by sheer force of numbers using the nearby company of fake trainee infantry. Of course, no one would then be able to contain the news of stolen bombs, the hijack of the missile-testing site, and Great Britain and the US’s involvement. There was sure to follow an international uproar since South Africa was a sovereign country after all — neither the British nor the Americans had the right to be there.

  There were two huge multiple-wheeled road-hauliers parked directly in front of them, one in front of the other. He could see the large but bare cradles on their loading decks and realised the cradles had to have contained the bombs. But where were they now? In the hangar or somewhere in a weapons storage bunker? The vehicles restricted his vision, but fortunately, those insid
e the hangar couldn’t see them either. Clearly, these trucks brought the WMDs from Copperton.

  “Let’s slide under the rig — it’s a secure place to hide for now,” Croxley said dropping to his knees and crawling under the vehicle. They all followed suit and the dark shadow cast by the vehicle concealed them well. Prone as they were on the floor, they had a clear picture of what lay beyond since they were able to see under the vehicles. The hangar was a cacophony of noise with the sound of machinery, occasional shouting, and the clang of steel.

  “Holy Jesus!” Peace hissed, initially overwhelmed by the sight before him.

  They all swivelled their heads in response to Peace’s remark. Before them, no more than a hundred feet away, stood an enormous vertical missile supported in a cradle mounted on a huge rail flatcar that straddled both sets of railway lines. Numerous lights were aimed at it, and starkly lit the huge matt white cylinder, which was about twelve feet in diameter with the orange, white and blue South African flag proudly displayed on its side. Directly below the flag, written vertically, was Suid-Afrikaanse Lugmag[17]. The cone of the rocket was hidden within the latticework of a massive gantry, which crowded the rocket on both sides, this being at least eighty or ninety feet high. A caged elevator shaft was stationed upwards within the gantry.

  “I guess that contraption is needed to mount the nuclear warhead on top of it?” Croxley murmured, referring to the gantry.

  “You’re damn right — I believe they’re doing just that. Van Rhyn’s insane! I wonder where he’s aimed the damned thing! It’s an Israeli Jericho missile if I’m not mistaken, or it certainly looks as if it is,” Barkly replied.

  “No, no, it’s a South African RSA-4. It’s an ICBM multiple-stage rocket — an orbital launcher and can target anywhere in the world. The South African government boasted that it’s accurate to within three hundred yards,” Peace said. “My boss insisted that I study the South African missile arsenal,” he added. “The good news is that it’s a solid-fuel rocket, which you probably already know, but it’s going to make one God Almighty bang when we blow it. An explosion can’t trigger the warhead; the bomb’s trigger mechanism is too sophisticated.”

  “Still, I think it too damn dangerous blowing this complex sky-high. Just think of the people we’ll kill. What we need to do is kill its heart — the mission control system if you like. That’s where the damn computers are and it’s from there that it’s armed and guided,” Barkly insisted.

  “And pray tell where we might find this mission control?” Peace asked sarcastically, looking around.

  “That’s got to be the blockhouse-like structure that appears on that reconnaissance photograph with only its top sticking out of the ground,” the American replied.

  Peace immediately recalled the structure. “Sorry, forgot about that. I have to admit, I don’t have much compassion for any of those here, even if some are only scientists. They’re about to nuke a hundred thousand or more. Nobody can tell me this lot here is not aware that a nuke is being loaded on the top of this bloody rocket. I think the idea to attack the blockhouse is dangerous. It may be a better option to go for the rocket and bombs. This place is like a box of matches in a fireworks factory,” Peace said, smiling evilly.

  “Apologies, you may be right. That was my damn conscience coming to the fore,” Barkly whispered.

  Peace smiled to himself.

  Suddenly, the sound of engines cut through the air. Clearly, more than one vehicle had stopped outside the sliding doors. The small access door banged open and a few people entered the hangar. From under the rig’s axles, they could only see feet. Peace noticed that some wore camouflage trousers tucked into combat boots. He had the feeling this had to be Van Rhyn and company. Those in camouflage were the officers, and it also dawned on him that the woman in sandals was Janet. The group stood for a minute just inside the hangar conversing in Afrikaans, no more than fifteen feet away from the intruders.

  The group then walked further forward into the hangar and Peace breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I heard what they were talking about,” Cherry said, her voice close to a whisper. “They’ve got this thing aimed at the Cubans in southern Angola, particularly at some place called Cuito Cuanavale. Apparently, the Cubans have a large number of men and armour concentrated there. Booyens was saying that if the Cubans in Africa are scared off and there’s a civil war in South Africa, the Blacks, or kaffirs as he referred to them couldn’t rely on the Cubans for help. But Van Rhyn appears to have other ideas — he wants to drop it on some densely black populated area in the country. He believes using a nuclear weapon, even if used only against the Blacks, would scare the Cubans off in any event. General Booyens…” She shook her head unable to say more and then took a breath. “God, what a self-opinionated asshole. None of them seemed to be concerned that they’d be killing millions,” she said, clearly horrified.

  Peace butted in. “Never mind that, what did he eventually decide? Did you hear?”

  Cherry continued, “Well, he argued that the Cubans were not a force to be underestimated and that they were just looking for an excuse to resume the conflict against South Africa. However, if they were hit with a bomb which would wipe out a good portion of Castro’s expeditionary force in Angola, then he would back off… hopefully permanently.”

  “Well, whatever they finally decide on, we can’t let it happen. We’ve got to take this bird out and now!” Barkly said vehemently.

  “We are agreed on that. C’mon guys, let’s find their little power station, and attach a few of our toys to the machinery,” Croxley added with a smirk.

  “Four’s a crowd. If we’re going to be moving around outside, I suggest you stay here while Jim and I disable the standby generators,” Barkly said.

  Peace agreed. The two Americans then backed off and disappeared through the access door that still stood open. Seconds later, there were the sounds of a scuffle and then a sharp cry from outside.

  “Damn!” Peace exclaimed in Cherry’s ear. “Van Rhyn and his people left someone with the cars. God knows what’s going to happen if they return and find their guard missing.” Peace assumed that the Americans had successfully dealt with the unexpected. He hoped they had got rid of the body. At least, if Van Rhyn returned, he may initially only think his man had deserted his post.

  “There’s little we can do about it now,” she replied.

  Just then, his earpiece crackled. “We ran into some schmuck outside, but he’s no more.”

  “So we heard,” Peace replied.

  Cherry and Peace had taken up station behind a set of huge double wheels on the rig’s trailer. The size of the shadow cast by the wheels was ideal but uncomfortable, forcing them to lie prone on their stomachs, with the massive axle over their heads. They remained silent.

  Peace watched the activity within the hangar, trying to figure out where the technicians were with their launch preparations. It soon became clear that whatever bomb they’d intended to mount was already in position on the missile, since the missile’s nose cone was removed and what had to be a bomb mounted on the top. Where were the other WMDs? He was sure the missile was about ready to move out of the hangar to the launch pad. All that had to be done was to replace the nose cone. Already equipment that had been used in preparation was being moved from the rail tracks. This signalled only one thing.

  Again, he heard Barkly’s voice in his ear. “Okay, guys, we’re done here. We’ve splashed diesoline all over the place. When current passes to the starter motors on the diesel engines, this will trigger the detonators, and the Semtex will do the rest. Goodbye to any emergency power.”

  He knew what the Americans had done. They’d wired the starter motors’ battery wires through a few detonators inserted in the Semtex. The moment current sped through the wires so would it pass through the detonators. Whammo! It was going to be a remarkable sight!

  “We’ll be back with you in a minute or two,” Barkly said.

  True to his word, the
two Americans were soon crawling into position below the rig.

  Peace looked at Barkly and Croxley. Barkly smiled and nodded. Peace pulled a portable walkie-talkie radio no bigger than a box of cigarettes from a pocket.

  “Mike, Mike do you read?” he said speaking into the instrument. “We’re ready — blow the lines.”

  He knew that the commanding officer of the bogus trainee troop was waiting for the instruction, having placed explosives on the pylons that carried the high-tension wires to the complex.

  It was about a minute later when the hangar was suddenly cast in darkness. This was followed a second after by a massive explosion. Although those in the interior could not see the fireball, this was bright enough to briefly illuminate the exterior. They caught sight of this through the open pedestrian door, and could see corrugated iron sheets and other debris flying in all directions; the powerful shock wave collided with the massive steel doors of the hangar with a huge bang, and they rattled loudly on their rails. Those prone on the floor felt it as it surged through the small access door, pushing a cloud of dust before it.

  “Good God!” Cherry exclaimed, obviously having not expected anything quite so spectacular.

  The sudden darkness required night vision glasses, which they quickly extracted from their packs. They took in the bedlam, in shades of white and green, which had now taken hold on the assembly floor. The massive explosion followed by near complete darkness in the interior of the hangar left all in no doubt that something serious had gone wrong. Lamps and torches soon appeared, the cones of light stabbing through the darkness. The Semtex charges they’d been issued with were highly sophisticated, with a radio signal connecting all of them. Irrespective of when they were set, they would explode simultaneously. Peace was taking no chances that they would be found.

  The other important task was to find the other nuclear bombs — they had to be somewhere in the hangar, there was nowhere else they could be.