by Adam Roberts
A World Bank adviser, Robert Klitgaard, watched Obiang arrive at Malabo late in the 1980s when Moroccan soldiers patrolled the apron. One had ‘a submachine gun … wrinkled fatigues and an olive-drab baseball hat’, he noted. Others lined the fence of the airport, ready for an assault from a nearby forest. There was no attack that day, but a plan was exposed ‘to assassinate the President as he deplaned, in full view of the honor guard, the Moroccan soldiers, all the ministers and military men, and the television camera’. Some forty high-ranking officials were arrested, tortured and jailed for (supposedly) dreaming up the idea. Nearly two decades on, paranoid Obiang might have been suspicious of a trip to the airport, and indifferent to the bait of six Land Cruisers. It was more likely he would send his brother, Armengol, or playboy son, Teodorin, both of whom like luxury cars.
But the plotters knew little of this. They thought the idea was sound, and set an attack date of 25 January, just over a month later. There remained much to do. Early recruitment of soldiers had begun, and some finance had been promised. Du Toit’s friend and business partner, Henry van der Westhuizen, had approached a highly placed man in Uganda to discuss weapons. But a deal was not assured. Nor were travel arrangements fixed. Steyl was to organise both Moto’s arrival from Spain and transport for the main attacking force from South Africa. Now he said he could not deliver. He recalled: ‘By late in 2003 I was supposed to be ready to get troops up there [as well as Moto’s team]. But around November I said I can’t do both.’ Mann was unamused. Steyl suggested that an Ivan Pienaar could arrange planes for the footsoldiers, leaving him to deal with Moto. Mann, though not pleased, agreed.
And the helicopter? Obiang had two MI-24 helicopter gunships. The attackers wanted something, too. In the days of Executive Outcomes, and earlier when 32 Battalion fought in Angola, helicopters were essential kit. Mann and the others knew one could tip the outcome of a battle. The idea of using a helicopter for this attack had been floating around for months. ‘In military operations you have lots of things: cannons, pistols and other stuff,’ said Steyl. ‘A helicopter? It wasn’t essential, but a luxury item. We would use it when we were there. We never discussed exactly what we’d do. We discussed having hard points [where a machine gun could be fixed] on it. But you could also have a guy in the door with an AK-47 … Had things gone down successfully it would have been a mystery bonus. It would make us look powerful.’ As another bonus, Mann had someone ready to fund it.
11
Enter Scratcher
‘Some are always willing to surrender morals for profits.’
British businessman, 2005
Mann, though rich himself, always sought money from elsewhere for his new project. He had promises of $10 million set out in the two investor agreements in November 2003, but wanted more. His hunger for funds led to one of his bigger blunders: involving the famous son of a former British prime minister. Mann had been friendly with Mark Thatcher in Cape Town since they met in 1997. They had a mutual friend in Nigel Morgan, whom they affectionately called Nosher or Pig, and both had visited the intelligence-gatherer’s remote country home. Thatcher had worked also with Morgan and Smith on the Cogito idea (selling business intelligence to companies or the government) in Equatorial Guinea. It was Thatcher who provided the capital for Cogito to be formed in the first place, and he had earlier helped Morgan through a difficult patch in his life in South Africa by providing him with a home for a spell. Both Thatcher and Morgan developed a steady interest in Mann’s obscure west African scheme.
Like a man waving a golf club in a thunderstorm, Mark Thatcher invites intense and unwelcome attention. For a quarter of a century, since his mother became prime minister, Mark (Sir Mark after his father, Denis, died) has drawn the interest of British journalists. Intelligence agencies probably keep an eye on him, too, intrigued by his range of business contacts. And though Morgan later claimed that Thatcher was never more than ‘peripheral’, a mere ‘voyeur’ of Mann’s plot, he knew the British press and others would find his involvement in a coup plot to be momentous news.
Thatcher’s life had been one of unhappy privilege. Born in 1953, he struggled as a child. Some teachers recall he was a quiet boy, overshadowed by his twin sister, Carol. Others at his snobbish public school, Harrow, thought him dim-witted and lowerclass. His mother was a rising star in the Conservative party, but for cruel schoolboys that was something to be teased about. He did poorly at exams and was sometimes called ‘Thicky Mork’ as others laughed at his accent. But he was attracted to adventure and often pored over Frederick Forsyth novels, presumably including The Dogs of War. He tried different careers, including selling jewellery then racing cars, travelling to South Africa for races in the early 1970s. After his mother became prime minister in 1979 – the same year Obiang took office – he drew constant media attention to himself, usually for gaffes.
On New Year’s Day 1982, while taking part in the Paris–Dakar off-road car race, Mark Thatcher and his female codriver disappeared in the Sahara. They were lost for six days, bringing the prime minister to public tears. When the two drivers were eventually found unharmed beside Mark’s car, he shrugged off the incident, showing no gratitude to those – including his father – who had organised a massive search. His unofficial biographers, Paul Halloran and Mark Hollingsworth, say in Thatcher’s Fortunes, that he was later an unofficial agent for David Bayley, who ‘set up a private office in Muscatar [as] an arms dealer’ and who subsequently sacked him, saying, ‘Mark is useful but a complete idiot. He is so incompetent.’ Thatcher became known as arrogant and ready to exploit his mother’s famous name for private gain. In conversation he can be affable enough, though aggressive, too. In the course of three interviews for this book he joked that any unflattering comments published about him would lead to this author needing ‘a new dental surgeon’, and if I dared identify him with the Equatorial Guinea plot I would end up ‘as Mr Stumpy’, that is, walking around on stumps for legs. In larger groups, perhaps because he grows nervous, he can be unpleasant, hurling threats at waiters and drivers, friends and strangers alike. But he is at least conscious of this. For a time he introduced himself saying: ‘Hello, I’m charmless Mark.’
He made most of his early money, said Halloran and Hollingsworth in Thatcher’s Fortunes, ‘facilitating’ trade in military equipment, though he said he personally never sold as much as a penknife. When Britain supplied a huge arms package to Saudi Arabia while Mrs Thatcher was prime minister, her son collected a ‘fixing fee’ of at least £12 million, claim his biographers. The British public never warmed to him. He was told to keep out of sight during his mother’s re-election campaigns. He moved to the United States and met his future wife, Diane, in Texas. But by the early 1990s the American tax revenue service (IRS) launched proceedings against six former directors and investors in a firm called Emergency Networks, one of whom was Thatcher. He responded by saying he was not responsible and the case was eventually settled out of court, with Thatcher incurring no penalties. But, with Diane and their two children, he moved on again. They opted for a reclusive expatriate life in Cape Town, South Africa.
There Thatcher ran a trading business, focused on finished oil products, in part with Sasol, a big South African oil company. His expertise, he says, is in logistics. He struck up a friendship with Mann, the two sharing an enthusiasm for business all over Africa in mining, oil, security and aviation. Thatcher was well travelled. But where many outsiders fall in love with the continent, despite its manifold problems, he grew fiercely pessimistic about it. ‘Africa is dead, it’s dying of cancer,’ he concluded later. South Africa, his adopted home, he saw as having a dismal future. He blamed venal presidents for most of Africa’s woes. ‘In Africa a corrupt politician is practically a sequitur.’ Most decent investors were shy of the continent, he argued, because of instability and poor leadership. That left only exploiters, those keen to make a quick, unethical profit – as some are always willing to surrender morals for profits.
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p; Mann was fond of Thatcher, but few others liked him. One plotter later concluded: ‘I put up with him, largely because I admired his mother. He put up with me because I was friends with Simon and he is an SAS groupie. He’s a pain in the arse in large doses. He is heavily insecure, probably because he is the son of two bright parents … he is not the sharpest pebble on the beach.’ Crause Steyl dealt with Thatcher but did not like him. ‘He was not the kind of personality I’d warm up to. I wasn’t going to have tea with his mother. He’s got lots of issues. I don’t need any more issues in my life. The way he spoke to his driver, I didn’t like that. Luckily, the only thing I had to take was his money.’
Thatcher, at least in early interviews for this book, made it clear he disliked the government of Equatorial Guinea and suggested outside powers had a duty to tackle the corruption and misrule there.
But he denies he ever supported a coup. Thatcher – when thinking hard he puffs out his cheeks and glares – doubts that violent ‘third party intervention’ would be right. He suggests a coup plot is little different from terrorism. ‘Bearing in mind my family has been subject to an actual terror attack in Brighton, I’d never knowingly be involved in something like that,’ he explains. And he adds that coups do nothing to benefit ordinary folk. ‘It would have been bad because coup attempts only breed others.’
And yet, Thatcher was said to be eager to become involved in Mann’s affair even while other plotters kept him at arm’s length. Steyl says Thatcher ‘was keen to be part of the game. But Simon thought that could be a problem. He feared Mark’s inferiority complex might lead to the British press having a field day.’ Greg Wales, writing in his Bight of Benin Company document, warned that if Thatcher’s involvement in the coup plot were known then the ‘rest of us, and project, likely to be screwed as a side issue to people screwing him. Would particularly add to a campaign, post-event, to remove us.’ Short of excluding Thatcher from the scheme, Wales emphasised that his role should be kept hidden. There was no remedy if Thatcher’s part were suspected, so ‘Ensure doesn’t happen’.
And Mann was willing to involve Thatcher. The reason was simple, says Steyl. ‘The money. He brought us nearly $280,000.’ Mann squeezed Thatcher for money, though he may have kept some of the details of the coup plot secret. The idea was to get Thatcher to fund a helicopter that would be used in the airport attack against Obiang. Steyl continues: ‘The only thing Mark actually did was lease a helicopter. Apart from that, nothing. We never discussed Equatorial Guinea with him. We said we wanted to take an airplane to west Africa. But it was clear to me he was suspicious.’
Thatcher was associated with the plotters from the early days of their operations. In June or July 2003 Thatcher met Nick du Toit to talk about hiring a helicopter. Thatcher later told a court in South Africa:
The purpose of that meeting was to discuss with Nick du Toit the possibility and practicalities of the renovation of two civilian helicopters which Mr du Toit had for sale, or knew were for sale. The purpose was to express to Simon Mann my opinion whether renovation was economically viable. These helicopters were civilian helicopters. My recollection is that Simon Mann advised me their intended use was for support of a mining operation in Sudan.
Du Toit also recalled the meeting. He later told a BBC film crew:
I had a business in South Africa called Military Technical Services which is a middle man business between governments and military installations to sell arms and ammunition, mainly in Africa. He [Thatcher] approached me to find out if I can help him to buy helicopters and I had some helicopters available so we discussed helicopters … He told me that he wanted to use it in gold exploration in Sudan … Simon Mann introduced me to him and said that this guy wanted to buy helicopters and he knew that it was my line of business so he introduced him to me and we discussed helicopters … He’s a very nice guy, straightforward, I didn’t have a lot of dealings with him … I knew that he was in the arms business … He came to me with a request for helicopters and I could help him.
They met at an interesting moment. By June 2003 Mann said (in his disputed confession) he had already discussed the coup plot with du Toit. Various documents – contracts between Mann and Moto, the proposal for ‘assisted regime change’ – suggest active plotting had begun by mid year. Perhaps by now Mann had in mind the idea of using a helicopter for an airport attack. He chose this same moment to involve Thatcher in discussions about a helicopter, though supposedly for use in Sudan. For whatever reason, however, nothing came of the first meeting.
Instead, a few months later, Mann again asked Thatcher for help and advice on renting a helicopter. In November 2003, just as Mann signed the two investor agreements for projects in west Africa, he saw Thatcher again. The pair met in Cape Town. Thatcher later recalled that Mann said he was getting involved in a transport venture in west Africa, and possibly a mining deal in Guinea Bissau. Mann wanted Thatcher to help charter a helicopter. Thatcher agreed. They discussed types of helicopters and concluded that a Bell Jet Ranger III might be suitable.
Such is Thatcher’s recollection of why Mann had first asked for his help. First, mid year, he had thought a helicopter would be used in Sudan (in east Africa) for a mining job. Then, by November, the story had changed. A helicopter would be needed in west Africa to transport executives or possibly for a mining job. Yet a third version was also put about. Ron Wheeldon, a friend, lawyer and an amateur pilot who likes to fly jet planes, says Thatcher explained the prospect to him.
I think he had no idea what was going on. He thought he was investing in an air ambulance to operate in west Africa, including Equatorial Guinea. Crause Steyl proposed to Mark Thatcher a workable project. You have to remember that both Mark and I know a man called Simon Everett in Kenya, he’s a mutual friend. Simon Everett runs an air ambulance in east Africa and does well. Crause Steyl came along and said, ‘There is no air ambulance in west Africa, I have the licences to operate a business there, but I need money to lease a helicopter.’ The deal would have given Mark 60 per cent of the earnings. It would have been good business.
This third version of events – that the helicopter would be used as an air ambulance in a deal with Steyl – was current by December 2003. Crause Steyl became closely involved and suggested they rent an Alouette helicopter. Thatcher learned that a pair of Alouette II helicopters were for sale in Wellington, a town in South Africa. An Alouette is a French, jet-powered helicopter, made in the late 1950s. He called Steyl to discuss what he had found. The two men met at an airport, Lanseria, near Johannesburg in December. ‘[We] discusssed the cost options with reference to the Alouette II helicopters, as well as the other options that may be available,’ Thatcher later testified. In one of the interviews for this book, Thatcher recalls the discussions: ‘The Alouette was to be used as a medi-evac aircraft. All have quick change capability. It can be converted into an executive’s helicopter.’ Might it also have been used as a gunship? He believes not. ‘But you can’t just mount hard points. In order to have a pukka gun mount you need to fix a steel plate, a heavy plate, into the floor. You look at the huge mounting on the floor. And on a helicopter it’s all about weight. Were such modifications to be made to this type of helicopter it would have been too heavy to be used for this purpose as it could not take off!’
Perhaps for this reason, Steyl and Mann turned down the helicopters that Thatcher had found. Mann phoned Thatcher to tell him so. But a later version of the Alouette, the Alouette III, would be suitable, he said. The Alouette III is more powerful and can seat up to seven people, or take two stretchers inside – it was used by the Rhodesian and South African air forces in military operations. Later, in December, Mann told Thatcher he had found such a helicopter. It could be chartered for a three month period. Thatcher agreed to help fund it.
Cape Town is popular at Christmas. From mid December to mid January residents decamp from Johannesburg, Pretoria and other landlocked cities and head for the beaches, cafés and hotels of the ‘Mother City�
��. The southern hemisphere summer also lures foreign tourists. Most years Mark Thatcher threw a house party. He was not especially popular with his neighbours in Constantia, however. One man describes him as having ‘an ego the size of a herd of elephants and attention span of a gnat’. He was said to be rude to waiters, and imperious to everyone. His parties were well-attended, especially when – as became increasingly frequent after her husband died – Baroness Thatcher was present. But the neighbours and guests were hardly grateful: ‘If it wasn’t for his mother, he’d be an East End barrow boy,’ said one.
Greg Wales recalls leaving Johannesburg with Mann, shortly before Christmas, in a plane flown by Crause Steyl. They headed for Cape Town for Thatcher’s party. Wales thought Steyl an exciting pilot. They flew first over Johannesburg, low over the city, well below the tops of the skyscrapers, he recalls, then on to Bethlehem, in the centre of South Africa, and through a narrow gorge in the Drakensberg mountains called the Golden Gate national park. Wales talks of his exhilaration as Steyl raced low inside the yellow stone canyon, twisting the plane sideways to bring them through. On arrival in Cape Town, Steyl, who had not been invited, amused himself while Mann and Wales attended Thatcher’s elite party.
Other characters gathered that Christmas. Morgan was his guest recalled Thatcher: ‘I have known Mr Morgan for more than seven years. I have met him on numerous occasions. Indeed, he has stayed at my residence in Cape Town many times. Most recently in 2003/2004 as a house guest.’ Their usual ‘topics of discussion were wideranging and included cigars’. A well-connected American lawyer and close friend of Mann’s family, Rebecca Gaskin, also stayed at Thatcher’s home at this time. She had worked in Congo, apparently for a bank, at the same time as Morgan. Wheeldon was at the party, too. He notes it was the last time he saw Mann, who was talking of a ‘mining adventure in South America’.