Wilbur Smith - C08 Golden Fox

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by C08 Golden Fox(Lit)


  That is probably why Andom has called his council." Out on a rocky plain between them and the palace, a staff car was speeding towards the open gate.

  "Pull in here,' Ramsey ordered, and the column halted in a fold of ground.

  Ramsey stood on the rear scat of the open jeep and focused his binoculars on the gateway in the palace wall. He watched the staff car drive through it, and then the massive wooden gate swung ponderously closed.

  "Where is Tafu with his tanks?" 'He is still in barracks, on the other side of the city." 'How long to get them here?" 'Two hours." 'Every minute is vital.' Ramsey spoke without lowering his binoculars.

  "Order Tafu to bring his armour in as quickly as possible - but we cannot wait until he arrives." Abebe turned to the radio, and Ramsey dropped the binoculars on to his chest and jumped down from the jeep. The commander of the paratroopers and his company leaders gathered around him, and he gave his orders quietly, pointing out the features of the terrain as he spoke.

  Abebe hung up the microphone of the radio and came to join them. "Colonel Tafu has one T-53 in the city, guarding the emperor's palace. He is sending it to us. It will be here in an hour. The rest of the squadron will follow." 'Very good,' Ramsey nodded. 'Now describe the layout of the interior of Andom's palace over there. Where will we find Andom himself?"

  They squatted in a circle while Abebe sketched in the dust, and then Ramsey gave his final orders.

  Once again the column moved forward, but now there was a large white flag on the bonnet of the command-jeep, a bed-sheet that fluttered on its makeshift flagpole. The trucks kept in tight formation. The paratroopers were concealed beneath the hoods of the troop-carriers, and all weapons were kept out of sight.

  As they approached the palace a line of heads appeared over the wall above the gate, but the flag of truce had an inhibiting effect and no shot was fired.

  The lead jeep drew up in front of the gate, and Ramsey assessed its strength. The gate was of weathered teak, almost a foot thick, reinforced with bands of wrought iron. The hinges were rebated into the columns on each side of the gateway. He abandoned any idea of driving a truck through it.

  From the top of the wall twenty feet above them the captain of the guard challenged them in Amharic, and Abebe stood up to reply. They haggled for a few minutes, with Abebe repeating that he had an urgent despatch for General Andom and demanding entrance. The guard shouted back his refusal, and the exchange became heated.

  As soon as Ramsey was certain that all the guard's attention was on the jeep he spoke softly into the two-way radio. The trucks behind the jeep roared forward and then peeled off left and right. They bumped over the rocky ground on each side of the roadway and drew up below the walls. From under the canvas hoods, paratroopers clambered on to the roofs of the vehicles.

  Ten of them were armed with grappling-hooks which they swung around their heads and then heaved up over the top of the wall. The nylon ropes streamed out behind them and dangled down.

  "Open fire!' Ramsey snapped into the radio, and a storm of automatic fire swept the top of the wall, kicking lumps of clay and brick from the rim.

  The ricochets whined away into the branches of the blue gum trees. The heads of guards disappeared instantly, some of them ducking away but at least one of them hit by a bullet. Ramsey saw his helmet spin into the air and the top lift off his skull. A pink mist of blood and brain hung in the air for an instant after he was snatched away.

  Now the paratroopers were swarming up the wall, three or four of them on each dangling rope at the same time. They were as agile as monkeys, and within seconds thirty of them were over and into the palace grounds. There were bursts of automatic fire and the thump of a single grenade. Seconds later the great wooden gate swung open and Ramsey urged the jeep-driver forward.

  The bodies of the palace guards lay in the courtyard where they had been shot down. Ramsey saw one of his paras huddled beside the gateway clutching his belly with blood oozing through his fingers. The other paras grabbed on to the jeep as it roared forward.

  Ramsey was standing behind the 5o-calibre Browning heavy machine-gun that was mounted above the driver's seat. He fired a long raking burst at the remaining guards as they fled like rabbits into the maze of adobe buildings on the far side of the courtyard.

  One of the guards whirled and dropped on his knee. He raised the launcher of the RPG rocket he carried to his shoulder and aimed at the approaching jeep. Ramsey swivelled the Browning on to him, but at that moment the front wheels struck one of the corpses and the jeep bounced wildly, throwing his aim high.

  The guard fired the rocket and it whooshed across the open courtyard and hit the jeep full in the centre of the radiator. There was a flash and a roar as the rocket exploded. Although the engine block smothered most of the blast, the front suspension collapsed and the vehicle cartwheeled end over end.

  They were all thrown clear, but the shattered body of the jeep blocked the entrance and the troop-trucks were backed up beyond the open gateway.

  The attack was stalling already, and the defence was rallying. Automatic fire was stuttering from the windows and doorways of the palace building.

  The Cuban paras sprang out of the stationary trucks and rushed forward, but another rocket hissed down the alley facing them. It flashed inches over Ramsey's head, blinding him with smoke, and struck the leading truck, ripping the bonnet open and shattering the windscreen. Diesel fuel spilled from the ruptured tank and ignited with a sullen roar. Black smoke billowed over the courtyard.

  There was shouting and more firing in front of them. Beside Ramsey another para was hit and went sprawling.

  Ramsey snatched up his machine-pistol and waved the attack forward, just as a heavy machine-gun opened up on them from one of the windows. Ramsey rolled under the blast of shot and came up against the mud wall directly below the window. The machine-gun was firing over his head, and the muzzle-blast drove in his eardrums.

  Ramsey snatched a grenade from his webbing pocket, pulled the pin and went up on one knee to post it through the window. He ducked and covered his ears.

  There was a wild shout, and the machine-gun fell silent. Moments later the grenade exhaled in a fiery breath above his head.

  "Come on,' Ramsey yelled again, and led half a dozen paras through the shattered window. The gun had been knocked off its mounting and the floor was wet and slippery with blood.

  It was room-to-room, and hand-to-hand now. The advantage passed to the defenders as they retreated through the maze of rooms and alleys and courtyards, doggedly holding each strongpoint until they were driven from it.

  Slowly the attack lost impetus and, although Ramsey threatened and swore and tried to inspire them with his example, they bogged down in the twisting alleys and interconnecting passageways and rooms. He realized that Andom was certainly radioing for reinforcements of loyal troops, and that minutes lost now could mean the defeat and failure of the revolution.

  He heard Abebe's voice raised angrily, urging his men on in a fog of smoke and dust, and Ramsey crawled across to him and seized his shoulder. Face to dusty smoke-grimed face, they shouted at each other to make themselves heard above the cacophony of guns.

  "Where is that bloody tank?" 'How long since I called?" 'It's over an hour.' Was it that long? It seemed that minutes had passed since the attack began.

  "Get back to the radio,' Ramsey yelled. 'Tell them.

  At that moment they both heard it, the shrill metallic squeal and the rumble of the tracks.

  "Come on!' Ram. en lunged to his feet, and they ran together, doubled over, with bullets fluttering in the air around their heads, back through the blood-smeared rooms with walls pocked by bullets and shrapnel.

  As they reached the entrance courtyard the tank butted its way in through the blocked gateway. The turret was reversed, the long 55-millimetre gun-barrel pointed backwards. The carcass of the rocket-shattered jeep was forced forward by the mass of armour and it rolled clear of the gateway.

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nbsp; The T-53 burst into the courtyard with its diesels bellowing. The turret was open, the commander's helmeted head protruded from the hatch.

  Ramsey windmilled his right arm in the cavalry signal to advance and pointed into the tangle of alleys and buildings.

  The tank pivoted on its churning steel tracks and crashed into the nearest wall. The mud bricks collapsed before it, and the roof tilted and sagged and buried the T-53 beneath it.

  The tank shook itself free and roared forward. Ramsey and his paras poured into the breach it had opened. Walls toppled and timbers crackled as the steel monster crawled forward, tilting and rocking over piles of rubble and human bodies.

  The screams of the defenders rose higher than the uproar, and their firing died away. They came stumbling out of the rained buildings, throwing down their weapons and raising their arms in surrender.

  "Where is Andom? Ramsey's throat was rough and sore with the dust and the shouting. 'We must get him. Don't let him escape." The general was amongst the last to surrender. Only when the T-53 flattened the thick mud walls of the main hall did he come out with four of his senior officers. There was a blood-soaked bandage around his forehead an dover his left eye. His beard was thick with dust and blood, and one of the scarlet tabs was torn from his collar.

  His good eye was fierce. Despite his wound, his voice was firm and his bearing dignified. 'Colonel Abebe,' he challenged. 'This is mutiny and treachery. I am the president of Ethiopia - my appointment was confirmed by the Derg this morning." Ramsey nodded to his paratroopers. They seized the general's arms and forced him to his knees. Ramsey opened the flap of his holster and handed his Tokarev pistol to Abebe.

  The colonel placed the muzzle between the captive's eyes and said quietly: 'President Aman Andom, in the name of the people's revolution, I call upon you to resign.' And he blew the top off the general's skull.

  The corpse fell face-forward, splattering custard-yellow brains on to Abebe's boots.

  Abebe clicked the safety on the Tokarev, reversed it and handed it butt-first to Ramsey.

  "Thank you, Colonel-General,' he said.

  "I am honoured to have been of service.' Ramsey bowed formally as he accepted the weapon back.

  "How many members of the Derg voted for Andom? he asked as the column sped back towards Addis Ababa.

  "Sixty-three." 'Then we still have much work to do before the revolution is secure." Abebe radioed ahead to Colonel Tafu's squadron of T-53 tanks. They were entering from the eastern side of the city, and he ordered them to surround the building that housed the Derg and to train their guns upon it. Elements of the Army were ordered to seal off all foreign embassies and consulates. No legation staff were allowed to leave the premises, for their own safety.

  All foreigners in the country, especially journalists or television personnel, were rounded up and escorted to the airport for immediate evacuation. There were to be no witnesses of what followed.

  Small units of Abebe's most loyal troops, backed up by Cuban paratroopers, were rushed to the homes of the members of the military council and the Derg who had declared for Andom. They were stripped of weapons and badges of rank, dragged out and thrown into the waiting trucks and driven back to the Derg, where a revolutionary court awaited them in the main assembly-chamber.

  The court consisted of Colonel Abebe and two of his junior officers. ~You are accused of counter-revolutionary criminal acts against the people's democratic government. Have you anything to say before sentence of death is passed upon you?" They were taken out directly from the trial into the courtyard of the building, placed against the north wall of the chamber and executed by firing squad. The executions were carried out in full view of the revolutionary judges and those prisoners still awaiting trial. The volleys of rifle-fire periodically interrupted the proceedings of the court.

  The corpses were tied in bunches by the heels and dragged behind a truck through the streets to the main rubbish-dump outside the city limits.

  "The populace must witness the course of revolutionary justice and the price of disobedience,' Ramsey explained the necessity of these exhibitions.

  The court ruled that the corpses should not be removed from the rubbish-dump, and their families were forbidden to indulge in the ritual of mourning or to exhibit any public signs of grief. The grim work went on until after midnight, 32e and the last batch of criminals was executed in the beams of the headlights of the trucks waiting to drag them to the rubbish-tip.

  Although they were both exhausted, neither Ramsey nor the future president could afford to sleep until the revolution was secure. Ramsey had a bottle of vodka in his pack. He and Abebe shared it as they sat beside the radio and listened to the reports coming in.

  One after the other, Abebe's loyal officers with Cuban support took over command of the various units of the Army and seized all the important points in the city and its surroundings.

  As the sun rose, they had control of the airport and railway station, the radio and television broadcasting studios, and all the military forts and barracks. Only then could they snatch a few hours' sleep. Guarded by Ramsey's paras, they stretched out on mattresses on the chamber floor, but at noon they were in fresh uniforms for the meeting of the purified Derg.

  There were armed paras at the door of the chamber and T-53 tanks drawn up in the street outside' As Colonel-General Machado congratulated Abebe, he said quietly: 'If you kill Brutus, then you must kill all the sons of Brutus. In io, Niccolb Machiavelli said that, Mr. President, and it is still the best-possible advice." 'So we must begin at once." "Yes,' agreed Ramsey. 'The Red Terror must be allowed to run its course."

  "The Red Terror shall flourish.' The hastily printed posters in four languages were pasted on every street-corner, and the hourly radio and television broadcasts proclaimed the new president and exhorted the populace to denounce an traitors and counter-revolutionaries.

  There was so much work to do that Abebe divided the city into forty cells and appointed a separate revolutionary court for each cell. The presidenv; of these courts were loyal junior officers who were given full power to'undertake revolutionary action'. Each had a team of executioners working under him. They began with the members of the nobility, the rases and the chieftains and their families.

  "The Red Terror is a proven tool of the revolution,' Ramsey Machado explained. 'We know those who will prove awkward later. We know those who will oppose the pure doctrine of Marxism. It is more expedient to eliminate them now, in the first wild flush of victory, rather than undertake the tedious business of dealing with them piecemeal at a later date.' He lifted his cap and raked his fingers through his thick dark curls. He was tired, his marvelous classical features were strained and drawn. Dark smudges underlined his eyes, but there was no uncertainty in those deadly green eyes. Abebe was at once grateful for this strength and awed by this iron resolution.

  "We must root out every rotten apple from the barrel. We must eliminate not only the opposition, but also the thought of opposition. We must break the nation's will to resist. They must be cowed and deprived of any sense of self or self-determination. The board must be swept entirely clean. Only then will we be in a position to rebuild the nation in its new and shining image.' The corpses of the nobles and the petty chieftains and their entire families were piled like garbage on the street-corners. The revolutionary patrols drove through the city and picked up at random the children they found playing in the streets.

  "Where do you live? Take us to your parents' home." The parents were dragged out of their houses and forced to watch as their children were shot in the head at pointblank range. The little corpses were left at the front door, swelling and stinking in the heat. The parents were forbidden to remove them or to mourn them.

  "The Red Terror will flourish,' decreed the posters, but in the mountains some of the old warriors and their families resisted the death squads.

  The tanks surrounded the villages, and the women and children and old men were driven into their huts. Th
e huts were set on fire, and the screams mingled with the crackle of the flames. The men were marched to the fields and forced to lie face-down in rows. The tanks drove over them, locking their tracks to pivot on the piles of bodies and grind them into a paste with the drought-stricken earth.

  "Now for the priests,' Ramsey said.

  "The priests were instrumental in the overthrow of the monarchy,' Abebe pointed out.

  "Yes, the church and the mosque, the bishops and priests and the imams and the ayatollahs are always useful in the beginning. The revolution can be nurtured in the pulpit, for the priests are by their training unworldly and idealistic creatures who respond to a vision of freedom and equality and brotherly love. They can be easily persuaded, but always remember that.

  they are also in competition with us for the souls of men. When they witness the revolution in action they will challenge us. We cannot brook that competition. The priests must be disciplined and controlled - just as all other men must be." They entered the great mosque and arrested the imam's fourteen-year-old daughter. They put out her eyes and cut out her tongue, then they placed two ounces of raw chili pepper in her vagina and took her back to her father's house. They locked her in a room of the house with guards at the door. Her parents were forced to squat outside the door and listen to their daughter's death agonies.

 

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