Per Fine Ounce

by Peter Vollmer

  The timing devices attached to the charges were electronically connected through a short-range transmitter. A few milliseconds before the master charge exploded it would send a signal to set off all other charges, ensuring all Semtex charges exploded simultaneously.

  They had not quite completed the U-turn when suddenly there was a gigantic explosion, as all the multiple explosions welded into one simultaneous detonation. It was huge. The hangar doors were still partially open, and these suddenly bulged outwards and were then wrenched from their rails by some invisible force and flung away from the building as if they were mere cardboard sheets, decimating everything before them. This was followed by an enormous fireball that billowed out of the openings.

  Simultaneously, the roof of the structure blew off, the explosion within the building sending bits of reinforced concrete and other burning material raining down all over the complex.

  The SUVs were two score yards from the partially opened doors of the hangar. The blast’s shockwave slammed into the side of the vehicle, shattering windows and actually lifting the vehicle and rolling it over, with it coming to rest on its side. This was followed by another jarring shock as something heavy collided with the SUV’s underside, and the occupants were slammed into the floor as the SUV skidded on its side a short way on the ground.

  Dazed and battered, Peace still managed to hold on to consciousness. He realised that this had to be his opportunity. The blast had dislodged the accumulated dust in the vehicle, and the interior was now enveloped in it. Coupled with the darkness outside, those in the interior of the vehicle were momentarily blinded.

  Peace lay sprawled on top of the guard who had the sheath knife. Working by feel alone, he manoeuvred into a position where he had his hand up against the man’s right side. The man didn’t move — he was either dead or unconscious. He could hear the driver groaning in the front and groped with his fingers until he found the knife’s hilt. He pulled but could not extract the knife. Again, he tried; still, it wouldn’t slide out. He realised that it had to have some sort of restraining strap.

  The dust slowly began to settle, and he could just make out dark shapes. His fingers found the strap — it was locked around the hilt of the knife with a press-stud. He unclipped it and gingerly extracted the blade. With great difficulty, he managed to insert the blade between his hands and under the plastic cable-tie, the sharp edge against the plastic, but not before he’d gouged his fingers and wrists on the razor-sharp blade. He applied pressure and the plastic parted with a snap.

  Peace could see that the front windscreen of the SUV had shattered, most of it blown away. Through the gap, he detected the rocket assembly structure, or rather what was left of it. A fire raged within and smoke billowed from the top, an orange hue hanging over the building. He knew that no WMDs would be launched from here, certainly not for a long time. To re-commission the nuclear bombs, the cores of which had not exploded, would take months. He wondered what the radiation level was within the hangar. Had the explosion compromised the protective shields around the uranium?

  He staggered to his feet, pulling himself up with a safety belt that dangled from the side of the SUV. He then got hold of the rear door’s sill and hauled himself out, half his body now sticking out of the vehicle. He surveyed the scene around him. It was an area of horrific devastation. Other vehicles were burning, as was the brush beyond the road. He saw several bodies scattered on the ground — some lying still, some groaning and some moving. Two or three others seemed to have better survived the blast, as they staggered around disorientated, their clothing burnt and faces partially blackened.

  His first concern was Cherry. He looked for the vehicle in which they’d shoved her. This had been stationed nearer to the blast, the vehicle only just in motion when all hell had broken loose. The SUV must have taken the full force of the blast; this did not bode well.

  Then he spotted the vehicle. Surprisingly, it still stood upright, although the front now faced away from the hangar. The part of the outside that he could see was charred, and smoke rose from the side. He realised why it had not suffered the full force of the blast — a Rooikat armoured vehicle had partially shielded it. He wondered where Van Rhyn had been when the rocket and charges exploded.

  He turned his attention back to the vehicle in which he’d been seated. The man who’d sat next to the driver had been partially flung out of the shattered armoured-glass windscreen. His carbine lay on the ground next to the vehicle, the stock folded back. Peace picked it up and thrust his head into the gaping hole that was once the windscreen, looking for an automatic. He found two, his own still with the silencer attached and a South African military issue automatic.

  Wasting no time, he made his way to the vehicle in which he’d last seen Cherry. He could see the Die Herberg in the distance. All the lights appeared to be ablaze. Maybe it did have its own standby generator. He could see people milling around outside and already a few were climbing into a vehicle. He approached the Rooikat at a jog, keeping a lookout for Cherry but keeping within the Rooikat’s blind side. He knew that those in the armoured car would be unscathed. He got to the SUV, approaching it from the side opposite to the eight-wheeler, which still had its headlights ablaze, the two horizontal cones of light penetrating the dust and smoke-filled air.

  He peered into the rear window, this now a gaping hole with the glass gone. He could see her huddled on the floor, her hands clasped around her knees and her face pressed into her lap. He expected her hands to have been tied, but they were not. Part of her hair was singed and he caught that peculiar smell of it. The one guard beside her was dead — a jagged piece of steel protruded from his neck. There was blood everywhere. An artery must have been severed, his heart pumping blood from the wound until he died.

  He stretched out a hand and touched her neck. She jerked away, simultaneously turning to see who it was.

  For a second, she just stared at him.

  “My God! You’re still alive. I thought that they’d shot you,” she said, the utter relief evident in her voice.

  “Are you okay? Anything broken or are you hurt?”

  “No! I knew the explosion was seconds away. I curled up in a ball and ignored their protests and the slaps to my head. Fortunately, they had not tied me up; they just removed all weapons. I gathered that, like you, I was to be shot and dumped, probably into the sea. From a comment made in Afrikaans by one of Van Rhyn’s people, we were to become shark food,” she said.

  He saw that she had a raw patch on both her face and on her hands. Since these were oozing a clear liquid, she had obviously been burnt.

  He assisted her as she gingerly climbed from the car. He saw the remaining guard lying prone on the rear seat. The man groaned continuously — he was clearly badly burned, as his face was raw, as was his scalp. His hair had disappeared and his eyebrows were burned away.

  “When everything blew, Van Rhyn was still here,” she whispered.

  He could feel her fear.

  “Don’t concern yourself, we won’t be seeing him. Besides, whatever he had planned has gone up in smoke,” he replied.

  “Moet dit nie glo nie![22]”

  Peace spun around, simultaneously extending his arm with the automatic gripped in his hand, the hammer back. He saw Van Rhyn standing just behind the Rooikat. Gone was the usual aura of total control. He too was badly burned. Peace did not know where the man had been when the charges blew, but wherever it was had not been enough to shield him from the explosion. He was sure Van Rhyn was in great pain and close to being incapacitated.

  Peace was still trying desperately to bring his weapon to bear when a single shot rang out. He felt a sharp tug on his left shoulder as the slug whistled past it, just catching the cloth on his coat.

  When he saw General Booyens in his camouflaged battle fatigues with a pistol pointed at him as he emerged from behind the Rooikat, he realised that it was not Van Rhyn that had fired.

  “Drop the weapon, Commander. Just look ar
ound you, it’s over for you and your woman. One must surely admire your diligence and the result of your efforts, but these will cost your life,” Van Rhyn said.

  He slowly looked around. There were more than enough armed guards to stop him if he attempted to retaliate. To try anything now would undoubtedly mean instant death. The same applied to Cherry.

  Peace dropped the weapon. “You win,” he said, his words just audible.

  “Get into the back of the vehicle,” General Booyens ordered, indicating the open doors at the rear of the vehicle with a wave of his automatic.

  Those who previously occupied the Rooikat had climbed out and were assisting those that had been hurt in the explosion and in the SUVs. Peace pushed Cherry ahead of him, and she entered first. The Rooikat was not a troop carrier but could accommodate six persons with three on each side facing each other. Cherry sat down to face him, followed by two guards and Van Rhyn and Booyens.

  Now that they were in the vehicle and with the lights in the rear compartment on, the extent of Van Rhyn, the General, and the guards’ injuries could be seen. Clearly, most were in pain, which could only get worse as the shock wore off and their injuries began to manifest themselves. They needed medical attention and Peace hoped they were all heading to the infirmary. The testing complex surely had to have one. Cherry also needed medical attention; however, he doubted they were concerned about her.

  With a roar of its V10 engine, the Rooikat took off, the ride surprisingly comfortable for such a large armoured vehicle. The guards were obviously not taking any chances and sat with the muzzles of the carbines touching the sides of their prisoners.

  Peace’s mind reeled as he looked around him. The situation was serious and their demise could literally be minutes away. Think, Peace, think! It would be like trying to get out of a vault to escape from here. Better to wait. But we don’t have the time! Van Rhyn knows what’s at stake and he’ll make sure nothing sticks to him. The explosion has surely changed everything. Maybe Van Rhyn will realise that it’s better not to kill us but rather use us as bargaining chips. Peace gritted his teeth. What the hell do I do?

  He was right; the Rooikat soon stopped. The rear doors opened, and they bustled out of the unit. They were outside a building with an illuminated, ornate board above the entrance, which read Mediese Sentrum. He guessed this to be the Overberg medical centre. He could hear a diesel engine and realised that the facility had a backup generator which was now providing emergency power.

  If the military exercise beyond the perimeter of the testing grounds was still under way, he could hear no sounds of pretend battle — all was quiet. The only sounds emanated from the hangar, which still burned. He saw two helicopters in the sky and realised that they had to have come from the Bredasdorp Air Force base situated nearby. He wondered whether they represented friend or foe, or whether they were just a standard reaction to what had occurred.

  Closely guarded, they were led into the building where he, for the first time in the bright light of the interior, realised the extent of the injuries Van Rhyn and his companions had suffered. Their hair was partially burned away in patches to near the scalp and the burns to their faces, arms, and hands were angry red blotches. Cherry was similarly burnt, if not quite so severe. Clearly, she was in pain although she showed no emotion.

  He did not miss that the guard in charge of the detail was Lambrecht — the same one who had divulged his identity in Cape Town not so long ago.

  Guarded by three men, they were rapidly marched into the Die Herberg, the interior of which resembled that of a country hotel with a reception area from which passages led out in opposite directions. It seemed strange to see such normal structures as a dining area laid out for breakfast the next morning. Finally, they were led into a small hall — bare except for two steel tables on trestles and a few steel framed chairs. The two tables were pushed together and he and Cherry were forcibly pressed down and seated behind each, a few feet apart. The guards’ weapons never wavered and remained trained on them at all times.

  Again, the doors that gave access to the main entrance passage opened and two men entered the hall. They were dressed in camouflage fatigues and were obviously officers of the South African Army — one a major and the other a lieutenant.

  The major walked to Peace’s table and leaned over until his face was inches from Peace. “I’m Major Rautenbach from Military Intelligence and this is Lieutenant Combrink” — it was immediately evident that English was not his home language as his accent was harsh and guttural — “and you’re in deep shit, my friend.”

  “Really,” Peace drawled showing no concern. “Certainly not as deep as you are. You’re on the wrong side. In fact, I think you and your friends are guilty of treason. You will probably be tried and executed for exactly that reason. Quietly, of course. Your government would not want the world to know exactly what went on here, would they? They will undoubtedly tell your wife that you died in an accident and not at the end of a rope.”

  The major took a wild swing, landing a haymaker to the side of Peace’s face. The force of the blow lifted him from his chair and flung him to the floor while the major shouted, “Fokken Engelse![23]” simultaneously.

  Then the man came round and kicked him viciously in the side. Thank God for canvas combat boots, Peace thought, at least the damage would be minimal, as he curled up to protect himself as further kicks landed against his torso.

  He was then bodily picked up, blood now streaming from his nose. Roughly manhandling him, they propped him back into his chair. He turned to face Cherry to give her a look of encouragement, when the lieutenant who stood leaning over the table in front of her swung his hand and slapped her viciously across the face. This too knocked her from her chair. Peace rose to intercept but had barely lifted himself from his chair when he was viciously butted from behind against the head by the folded stock of a carbine, the blow rendering him nearly unconscious. He opened his eyes to see the lieutenant grab the front of Cherry’s lab coat and bodily pick her up and drop her back into the chair. Blood appeared on her face where the burnt skin on her cheek had broken.

  Peace seethed with fury. “You bastard. I’ll kill you for that!” he whispered hoarsely, his grey eyes like flint stone and his mouth clenched in a snarl.

  The lieutenant laughed. “Who are you? Who cares — you’re dead anyway or soon to be!”

  The major pulled up a chair and sat.

  “Unfortunately, you and your comrades have done considerable damage to our plans. However, some can be salvaged.”

  “Really, I don’t think so,” Peace replied with as much indifference as he could muster.

  Again, he was thumped hard in the back with a carbine, the pain excruciating. The major patiently waited for him to recover.

  “Yes, it may take a while and we still have other means,” the major said. “We already know who you are, but I want to know what other plans you think you’ve got.”

  “We don’t know about other plans. Do you honestly believe we’re privy to that? We just do as we are told. But I can elaborate on what you know by now… The Americans and British are already in Gaborone, ready to intervene should things go wrong here. There are more than the usual number of warships off your coast in the Indian and Atlantic oceans. Hell, put a foot wrong and you’ll be invaded. You know that!”

  “That will never happen!” the major spat.

  “Do you really think the West would allow civil war to break out in your country? They’ve far too much invested in it,” Peace said.

  Just then, the doors swung open and Van Rhyn strode in followed by two of his guards. He spoke in Afrikaans, clearly issuing orders. Peace saw the shocked expression on the major’s face. Something serious was obviously on the go.

  Immediately plastic cable ties were produced and both had their hands bound behind their backs. The guards then herded them through the building towards the exit. Once they stepped out into the night, he realised that the Rooikat armoured cars had di
sappeared. Van Rhyn and General Booyens led the entourage, followed by the guards and their prisoners. An assortment of pickups and sedans stood in front of the building.

  In the distance, he could distinctly hear that peculiar thump-thump made by an approaching helicopter. He looked in the direction from where the sound emanated and saw the flashing navigation lights of the helicopter. The guards had also heard it as Peace and Cherry were hurriedly bundled into two sedans, each sandwiched again on the rear seat between two guards. Van Rhyn slid into the passenger seat of the car in which Peace was trapped.

  Already the helicopter was hovering over the helipad some two hundred yards distant, slowly settling to the ground. There was no mistaking the South African Air Force markings on the Denel Oryx helicopter. The sedans immediately drove off towards the helipad.

  The small cavalcade halted close to the helicopter. As they were being bundled out of the car, shots suddenly rang out, and the man who had Peace by the left arm crumpled to the ground, as did another of the guards. Peace had immediately recognised the bark of a Heckler and Koch machine pistol; it had to be Croxley and Barkly.

  Within seconds, the rest of the guards recovered from their surprise and returned fire.

  Van Rhyn jammed an automatic to Peace’s head. “If you don’t do exactly as I say, I’ll shoot you here and now! Run for the helicopter!”

  Peace knew he meant every word. He ran bent doubled over, shots still ringing out. Did Croxley and Barkly know who the hell the enemy really was — the damn shots were so close! Trying to run with his hands tied was difficult and when he heard a scream behind him could not turn round.

  They reached the helicopter, which had settled on the concrete square. Hands from inside grabbed him and dragged him over the sill into the interior. He saw Van Rhyn, General Booyens, and Janet being assisted aboard. That she was here surprised him as he hadn’t seen her get into the car. She had not given him any sign of recognition. The helicopter’s turbines immediately spooled up and the aircraft took to the air again. He noticed the navigational lights were doused, the only lighting being the eerie green of the instruments emanating from the cockpit. The noise rose to a crescendo and only when the side access-door was slid shut, did the banshee abate and become bearable. Of the people who had left in the cars only he, Van Rhyn, General Booyens, Janet, and the chief honcho guard were aboard — or so it seemed. He wondered what had happened to Cherry.