by Adam Roberts
Time was short. The plotters were worried about two elections: one in April in Equatorial Guinea which could help legitimise Moto’s grasp on power; the other in March in Spain marking the retirement of sympathetic prime minister Aznar. So February was the month to launch the plot. Spanish ships and marines were powering into position. Nearly seventy footsoldiers had been recruited. Despite public discussion of a coup, it seemed Equatorial Guinea had no comprehensive warning. The attackers still enjoyed limited surprise. Aircraft were arranged: the Thatcher helicopter was dropped, but Steyl had done a dry run with a King Air plane from the Canary Islands to Malabo, and a man called Ivan Pienaar had helped hire two DC3 planes. Many believed Pienaar had contacts with South Africa’s authorities, so his presence might have reassured Mann and others. Back in Equatorial Guinea, du Toit and his forward team moved into position.
Mann still needed more officers. Two South Africans took large roles here. Jacob Hermanus Albertus Carlse (widely known as Harry) and Lourens Jacobus Horn (shortened to Loutjkie, Hecky and other nicknames) are typical ‘moustaches’, a term coined by Nigel Morgan to describe tough South Africans. Of Afrikaner stock and proud, hard soldiers, they are the sort you want to have on your side in a fight. Carlse is one of four brothers. A family friend calls him ‘a very tough guy’ and says he was known as ‘The Enforcer’ after breaking a debtor’s arm over a restaurant table. Having served in South Africa’s army and in a special forces regiment (1 Reconnaissance), he met Mann in 1993 and fought in Executive Outcomes’ first battle, at Soyo in Angola. Later Carlse became a nightclub bouncer in Johannesburg, where he met Horn. Horn had a similar past, serving first with South Africa’s police and then with special forces (4 Reconnaissance Regiment), though not in Executive Outcomes.
Carlse and Horn then worked as guards, forming a company called Meteoric Tactical Solutions (taking a similar name to du Toit’s firm, Military Technical Services). In 2003 the firm won security work in Iraq. Among other contracts it struck a £250,000 deal with Britain’s international development agency to guard staff in Iraq. The firm also helped train Iraqi police. In October Carlse was back in South Africa briefly and met Crause Steyl, who offered him work of the Executive Outcomes type. By February 2004 both he and Horn were ready in South Africa. Horn told some colleagues he was taking a holiday to ‘chill out on a hunting farm’, though he boasted to others of going back to Africa for a quick ‘security job’ that would pay extremely well.
The two met du Toit at a Wimpy burger bar in Pretoria and heard details of the coup plan. Their company would be rewarded with security contracts in the new Equatorial Guinea. Horn later testified that Mann, Neves Tomas, Kershaw and another former soldier, Simon Witherspoon, joined them at the Wimpy. Witherspoon, yet another veteran of South African special forces (5 Reconnaissance), calls himself a professional hunter and ‘security consultant’ for foreign governments. He says he was invited by a ‘James’ (presumably Kershaw) to join the operation at the last minute. Witherspoon – like most involved in the Wonga Coup – is affable and friendly when you meet him, though he has an intimidating past as a soldier.
At the Wimpy du Toit gave out pay-as-you-go mobile phones, while Kershaw collected bank details so he could handle financial arrangements. Horn took an administrative role, paying for hotel rooms for the footsoldiers (most stayed at Hotel 224, a sad-looking spot in the centre of Pretoria). He checked contracts for the footsoldiers to sign when out of the country and beyond the reach of anti-mercenary laws. He was also supposed to organise transport to the airport for most of the men. Carlse became a direct assistant to Mann. He was to join his old boss on the day of the coup.
A few others signed up. Errol Harris, a huge man with cropped blond hair, said Mann approached him and suggested he join. He quit his job as a prison warder, said his lawyer, ‘because he was told he would have a job to start a new prison in Equatorial Guinea’. His military background was less impressive than the others’ and he had never left South Africa before, but he had a useful connection to the plotters – du Toit had married his sister, Belinda. Yet Harris later claimed (on South African television) he had no idea what du Toit planned: ‘I knew he was in the special forces, but he never told me himself.’ Asked if he was a hired gun, he replied: ‘No, I don’t even know what mercenary means.’
Du Toit now supplied more information about the target. Though Malabo is small, the city is divided into several districts, some of which are poorly lit and/or are not clearly named. The presidential palace, the main target, is on the farthest side of town away from the airport. For the plotters, knowing the local geography would be vital. Du Toit later told investigators:
Sometime in February 2004 … I found a map of the town of Malabo pinned on the walls of one of the offices of Murray and Roberts, a South African construction company. I asked for a copy of the map … which I later gave to Harry Carlse on my return to South Africa. It was to be used after landing in Malabo on the day of the ‘Coup deTat’. The map was unmarked except for the Pizza Place restaurant, which was already marked when I obtained the map. I indicated the positions which were to be taken over to Harry Carlse …
One vexing task remained: buying weapons. At first glance, that looks easy enough. Used AK-47 assault rifles are traded all over Africa. Foreign journalists occasionally try to buy one in a Kenyan slum or in a dangerous part of Johannesburg for the sake of a story. Various factors affect supply and price. At the end of a war soldiers sell their old weapons and the price drops: after Uganda’s civil war you could trade a chicken for an AK-47. Otherwise there is a well-developed black market for guns. In Soweto, in South Africa, criminals rent out weapons and ammunition for the night. Elsewhere a used assault rifle – one that might have been traded between wars, buried for a while, perhaps used by child soldiers – could sell for well under $100. In Mozambique, where artists break up rifles to make impressive sculptures with the pieces, it may be cheaper to buy the working model than the art.
But the plotters of the Wonga Coup wanted more than a few bent rifles. In war zones larger consignments of arms are sometimes available. Africa fell relatively quiet in 2004, but wars spluttered on in Sudan, on Uganda’s borders, in eastern Congo and in Côte d’Ivoire. Arms producers, especially in eastern Europe, continued to export assault rifles, mortars and other weapons that helped sustain African conflict. Many deals were brokered by shady British, Israeli or east European traders, with cargo sent through Cyprus, Malta or other relay points in southern Europe. Given the right connections, tapping into this supply network is said to be quite possible. Questions about paperwork – end user certificates – may be ignored. What counts is money.
The plotters of the Wonga Coup, however, seemed unsure how to find a supplier. Previously Mann had worked for governments and acquired weapons legally. Du Toit, with some experience of trading arms himself, said he knew where to go. They first relied on du Toit’s associate Henry van der Westhuizen, who had contacts in Uganda. ‘As of December 2003 we expected the guns to come from Uganda, the likelihood was good,’ recalls Crause Steyl. ‘Henry van der Westhuizen is an arms trader … Henry and Nick are partners. Henry was supposed to buy arms from Salim Saleh [the head of the military] in Uganda. Henry said the deal was on.’ But by 2004 there was a problem. Steyl continues: ‘Salim Saleh then pulled out. I’m not sure why. I think Oxfam were investigating him or something.’
This, Steyl believes, was a devastating setback: ‘When Salim Saleh refused to do the deal, by then we were beyond the point of no return. The troops were hired, the aircraft hired; Nick was running the front businesses. As a private individual foreigner, to organise a coup is difficult. It’s easy to shoot your uncle … At that moment we should have said, “It’s over.” But you can’t pull out. Those guys have given you money. You can’t walk away. Nick didn’t get out of it, though I think he wanted to …’ Mann later elaborated: ‘We applied to the source of weapons that we had previously contacted. This contact had been indirect and
was via Henry van der Westhuizen. At this stage this contact failed.’ Which created a ‘difficult position’, although ‘other options’ included ‘a military source in Zambia, one in Kenya, one in Bujumbura – and ZDI [Zimbabwe Defence Industries]’.
Zimbabwe Defence Industries, like many companies that make or trade military equipment, is owned by the state and has close ties with the armed forces. A Colonel Tshinga Dube ran it. Though Zimbabwe’s small and fast-shrinking economy produced little, ZDI was kept busy trading weapons that others made, selling them on to dealers like du Toit. In theory, they could only sell to licensed traders with the right documentation, notably the end user certificate. In fact, staff at ZDI – like many – had few scruples and would sell, if the price was right, precisely what Mann and his co-plotters wanted.
From a distance, however, it is astounding that Mann and du Toit chose to do such a sensitive deal in Robert Mugabe’s Zimbabwe. As Mugabe aged – he was well over eighty by the time of the Wonga Coup – he presided over a collapsing economy and grew ever more isolated in office. He attacked his opposition, then launched a populist campaign against Britain and whites. He regularly accused the old colonial power – ‘Tony Blair and his gang of gay gangsters’, as Mugabe alliterated – of planning evil schemes. British journalists were arrested merely for visiting Zimbabwe. Tourists, businessmen and others mostly stayed away. Zimbabwe’s intelligence agency, the Central Intelligence Organisation, grew ever stronger. It was said that one in five adults in Zimbabwe worked for it. Mann and du Toit were sure to draw its attention. There was a greater risk of being arrested and denounced in Zimbabwe, for the sake of a propaganda attack on Britain, than anywhere else.
Mann saw some danger. He and du Toit told few people about their approach to ZDI. Wales claims he was shocked to hear Mann had done a deal there. But Mann later said ZDI was widely recommended. It had a reputation as a reliable and efficient supplier of smaller weapons. Mann recalled du Toit said that its officials ‘would ask few if any questions’ and he had ‘done several deals with ZDI previously. Some or all of these had been without proper paperwork.’ Mann also thought he had the backing of senior people in government, a misjudgement he repeated elsewhere. ‘Naively I believed that by dealing with ZDI, I was dealing with a very high level and would be fully “covered” in terms of what we had to do,’ he later explained.
Mann and du Toit flew the short distance from South Africa to Harare on 8 February. The Zimbabwean capital is a pleasant city if you have fuel and food, and if you can avoid the truncheon-wielding policemen. Most Zimbabweans are articulate, confident and welcoming. Mann later told a Zimbabwean lawyer, Jonathan Samukange, they received ‘the red carpet treatment’ on this trip. ‘[We] didn’t go through immigration but were taken through by ZDI officials. We were treated like diplomats.’ They might have checked into Harare’s Wild Geese Lodge, where photos of Mike Hoare, the mercenary, and Roger Moore and Richard Burton (who starred in the film The Wild Geese) adorn the walls. Instead Mann pitched up at Cresta Lodge, a hotel chain popular with businessmen. Its bar served dreadful coffee and snacks such as a ‘jungleman’s platter’ of chicken drumsticks, beef kebabs, samosas and chipolata sausages (for the urban jungleman). The barman, Paul Tembo, found Mann a ‘good customer … Yes, I still remember his face. He liked to sit here in this lounge.’ Mann, says Tembo, was both fond of the local Bollingers Beer and generous with tips.
Mann and du Toit met a man from ZDI called Martin Bird and explained their cover story: they needed weapons to guard a mine near Isiro, a town in north east Congo, near the border with Uganda. Bird’s wife was present at the meeting, which Mann found offputting. They had a precise shopping list. Du Toit’s notebook shows jottings for ‘7.62 × 39 × 50 Box’, ‘7.62 × 54 × 50 Box’, ‘PG 7 × 100’ and ‘Mort × 60mm × 200’. These refer to rifle ammunition, propelled grenades and mortar bombs. A complete list of rifles, mortars, pistols and more was dictated to the Zimbabwean official. Then, to Mann’s surprise, du Toit added a second, larger order of weaponry. He explained it was for rebels in Congo.
Mann was puzzled. He recalled that du Toit ‘said that it would help the EG order, the one I was worried about, in two ways. One: the EG order was very small beer for ZDI. Two: the second order was for [Congolese] rebels.’ Du Toit believed that the Zimbabweans ‘would be very interested in making friendly contact with [Congolese] rebels. I asked him why and he replied that Zimbabwe had a major ongoing interest in DRC [Congo] in various ways and in some mining.’ Du Toit had contacts in a rebel group in Congo, he said. Though Mann was obliged to pay for all the military goods, the bigger deal would mean he got his weapons fast. Zimbabwe did have a strong interest in Congo, as powerful individuals exploited mineral riches for private gain, backing various groups as occasion arose. Selling guns to rebels, though illegal and destructive, clearly tempted ZDI. Du Toit claimed there were ‘about 1000 rebels in the Katanga region of the DRC who wanted to fight the Kabila government’. He was evidently referring to the group he (apparently) struck a deal with in 2003, the PDD.
Next they met Colonel Dube, the disdainful boss of ZDI, who showed little interest. He ‘seemed negative’, Mann said later. ‘We met in his office. When I tried to explain the cover story as to why we wanted these weapons (we did not feel we could tell the truth) he was not interested. When I tried to show him where the mine was on the map he didn’t look.’ They were told to return to meet a junior officer, Group Captain Hope Mutize. But du Toit spent some time alone with Colonel Dube. He emerged ‘very pleased’, said Mann. ‘He was sure everything would go smoothly. When I asked why he replied that, as he had suggested earlier, Col Dumbe [sic] was very pleased that ZDI and … [the] Zimbabwe intelligence services would gain a direct and positive link to the new DRC rebel grouping.’ Mann now felt certain that ‘a) [he was] dealing with the highest possible authorities in Zimbabwe, b) we would get good products and a good service’.
Hope Mutize of ZDI later said: ‘They told me that they did not want any paperwork involved in the transactions’, but he insisted. Mutize, du Toit and Mann signed the quotation for the original order of arms the same day. Only du Toit and Mutize signed the other, the shipment for Congolese rebels. Mann’s order would cost just over $80,000. That paid for 10 Browning pistols, a supply of 9mm ammunition, 61 Kalashnikov rifles and 45,000 rounds of ammunition. In addition, he would get 20 machine guns, with ammunition, 7 rocket-propelled grenade launchers, plus attack projectiles, and 2 mortar launchers with 80 mortar bombs with high explosives. Finally, 150 offensive hand grenades would be included and 20 Icarus flares. A handwritten note on one copy of the quotation, apparently by du Toit, estimated the weight of the goods: ‘Kit 1’ at 4255 kg (9400 lbs), ‘kit 2’ at 6000 kg (13,000 lbs) and unspecified ‘packs’ would weigh another 4800 kg (10,600 lbs). Mann later boasted over dinner with Nigel Morgan that he was buying ‘five tons of small-arms to be used for the operation’.
Mann’s arsenal was hardly suitable for guards at a mine. Attack grenades, mortar bombs, high explosives and rocket-propelled grenades are assault weapons, while machine guns and rifles can be used for either attack or defence. The Congo mine story deceived nobody. But Mann expected little interest in his shipment, with officials lured by the bigger deal with Congolese rebels. Mann and du Toit promised to return to inspect and collect the cargo a few days later. The total cost of the two orders would be nearly $200,000. A down payment of roughly half that was made soon afterwards by James Kershaw, Mann’s assistant, who flew to Harare. The money was not banked (to evade Zimbabwe’s strict foreign currency laws) but was placed in a safe.
Investigators in South Africa were later horrified by the arms firm’s deal, condemning Zimbabwe’s government for being ready to sell to rebels and mercenaries. European arms exporters, African governments and state-owned arms dealers all help fuel wars on the continent. A senior South African investigator says: ‘ZDI were willing to provide this type of weapon to a private individual. Shit. You don’t sell
that sort of gun [the assault weaponry] to private entrepreneurs. We need to crack down on this sort of deal if we are to stop wars in Africa. Why is ZDI selling this stuff to private individuals? Everyone is closing their eyes to what is happening in Zimbabwe with ZdI. If you want to clean up Africa look at the list of weapons, mortars, rocket propelled grenades, AK-47s. In a democracy you ask that type of question, what will these weapons be used for?’
Mann and du Toit flew on to neighbouring Zambia, to prepare the final details of the coup. They went north to Ndola, a town in a copper-mining region that borders Congo, and met a man ‘who was apparently leader of the Katanga uprising shortly to occur’. Perhaps he represented the PDD rebel group. He was told to expect the weapons du Toit ordered. In exchange his rebels would secure a 2-kilometre/mile-long airstrip at Kolwezi, just over the border in Congo, where Mann and his team could gather to prepare the assault on Equatorial Guinea. The rebel ‘was told he must secure the airstrip at Kolwezi for twenty-four hours so that his equipment could be delivered to him’, Mann said later.
PART THREE
The Big Push
15
Strike One
‘Pull off a coup and you’re a national hero, fail and you’re an evil criminal; in business it’s the same difference between bankruptcy and making a fortune.’
Jeffrey Archer, ‘The Coup’ (1980)
The launch date loomed. Rather than grab Obiang at Malabo airport, the plotters decided to unleash a more conventional attack. Before a bullet could be fired, however, a complicated manoeuvre had to be completed, getting several teams, the weapons and the planes to the right positions. Mann’s description to his fellow plotters would have been something like this:
The German, Merz, brings his Antonov from Equatorial Guinea and flies south to Zimbabwe. Harry and I wait in Harare for him, where we load the cargo, turn around and fly north. We aim for the airstrip at Kolwezi. It’s a thousand miles from anywhere, in the south of Congo. Nick has an arrangement with a group of rebels in Congo. His pals will secure the landing zone for us at Kolwezi. Now the two DC3s take off in South Africa. Each one takes half the guys and the team leaders. They clear immigration at Polokwane, then fly north and head to the same Congo airstrip in Kolwezi, where we rendezvous. There we split the weapons into two piles. One lot is for Nick’s rebels to play with; we keep the other half for Malabo. Maybe there’ll be time to test them. At dusk we all take our Russian bird to the target. We fly overnight and it’s game on by dawn …