‘There is a plan,’ Van der Walt’s father had told him. ‘We’ll control this country. God has ordained this plan. We’ll infiltrate all levels of government, place our people in areas where decisions are made and will continue to control South Africa. The Afrikaner will live in a Christian state where only Afrikaans is spoken; all other religions will be banned. Afrikaans will be the official language in our schools; and English will be used only in communicating with other countries.’ His father looked at him to ensure that he understood the significance of his introduction into Afrikaner adulthood.
The speech over, Van der Walt said his father got up and the Dominee and his brothers all shook his hand.
‘Welcome to the Afrikaner brotherhood,’ they said in unison.
‘You need to show you’re not afraid of the Kaffirs or the English,’ said Christof, one of Van der Walt’s brothers. ‘If the Kaffirs think they can get away with anything, they will destroy all that our families have worked for. You must not show any weakness. If they do not obey you, then treat them as you would a wild dog. Animals understand only one thing: physical punishment. Sometimes that might be force, other times you might have to obstruct their food and water. When their children become hungry, they obey. The Afrikaner Resistance Movement will protect our heritage.’
Jannie had not experienced that part of the induction. He thought it was most probably because the Afrikaner Resistance Movement that Van der Walt had referred to was really a phenomenon centred on the Free State—the most conservative state in South Africa. There had been talk of making it completely white, with blacks only allowed to work but not reside.
There were many other aspects of their lives that he had initially talked about with Van der Walt in which they seemed to share some common ground. They had both done national service for two years, although Van der Walt had then made the army his career. Jannie had served as a doctor and had been to Angola with the South African Army, as had Van der Walt. Gradually, his earlier misgivings receded, and Jannie felt he was doing something to ensure his parents’ heritage survived. He also felt he was less of a deserter of the national cause by being at a leading white liberal university and hospital that was so critical of the government.
The expansion of the liver transplant unit and research had demanded more money, which, initially, Van der Walt looked after without question. Jannie’s commitment seemed disproportional to the amount of money that was available for his research, but he always rationalised that it was his growing status that was valuable to the government. In the early days, he was able to develop the research programme into liver transplants. Most of the research involved families and identical twins, looking at gene expression. More recently, as the technique of polymerase chain reaction had become available, he focused on DNA sequencing within genes. It was a technique that he had first become aware of in a paper in the Journal of Molecular Biology in the nineteen seventies. The purpose of the research was to understand, to a greater degree, the mechanisms of rejection if they hoped to be more successful with their antirejection drugs.
As part of that research, he had found the need to use a method that relied on cycles of repeated heating and cooling of protein which caused DNA melting. When used with an enzyme, the process then enabled him to identify specific DNA sequences within genes, allowing further study into the rejection of organs. He followed the development of the technique in the literature and could see the enormous potential not only for studying rejection in transplants but also as a way of creating genetic fingerprints, diagnosing hereditary diseases and even probably determining paternity. He needed a thermal cycling machine to further his research, and when he found one in Germany, Van der Walt had effortlessly secured funds, despite it costing two-and-a-half million rand.
To Jannie, there did not seem to be any real quid pro quo, and, in addition, he had been able to instigate and direct his own research, with irregular updates to the bureau. The first real request to do something for BOSS was after Van der Walt had assured him the money was available for the thermal cycler. Van der Walt had asked him to deliver a package to a contact in Jerusalem en route to Germany. The package was to be given specifically to a man who would identify himself at Ben Gurion airport when they landed. Jannie had thought little of the task. The day he was due to fly Van der Walt had met him at the airport in Johannesburg and given him a leather overnight bag to take on the plane, inside which was a package the size of a shoebox. Jannie would have to verify the identity of the person he had had described to him and then hand over the package. Jannie had followed Van der Walt’s instructions and was met by someone who identified himself as a MOSSAD agent. He had taken the package out of the bag and left Jannie with the leather overnight bag.
On the flight to Germany, Jannie decided to store his medical documents in the bag. Putting his folders in first, he noticed a label that had fallen off the package and was sitting on the bottom of the bag. He looked at it more closely and saw that it was the universal sign warning of radioactivity. Alarmed, since he knew that international law forbade the transportation on private airlines of weapons or chemicals that were potentially harmful to other passengers, he also wondered why it had not gone on a commercial flight. He needed to ask Van der Walt what it was that he had been transporting, although he doubted even then whether he would have been told the truth. Obviously, it related in some way to either the weapons programme or the nuclear cooperation between the two countries. Perhaps it was better if he did not know, he thought. By the time he arrived in Germany, the thermal cycler and the medical conference became his focus, and the package he had carried seemed to be less relevant.
When he returned to Cape Town and was able to put the thermal cycler to use, he started to make some significant discoveries. As with many discoveries, it was quite by accident that he had found a gene on chromosome ten that had a specific DNA sequence; when it went through the analyser several showed that there was a different gene sequence for whites, coloureds and blacks. It was just by chance that he had left it overnight in a medium with the polymerase enzyme, and in the morning noticed not only a different pigmentation for each of the sequences but also that when they re-analysed the DNA, it also appeared to have deteriorated overnight. It was almost as if the protein had prematurely aged.
Jannie realised it was clearly a DNA sequence that determined skin colour, and the polymerase not only distinguished the sequence but also had an ageing effect. Knowing the DNA sequence and the formula of the polymerase enzyme created the possibility of raising antibodies against it meant that drugs could be attached and delivered via a bacterium to target that DNA sequence in coloured and black populations. It was a hugely exciting discovery, but immediately Jannie was very conscious that it potentially had ramifications that are more significant. Identifying people of colour through their specific DNA sequence would allow that sequence to be targeted with drugs or toxins. In the wrong hands, it could cause serious harm. Uncertain of the consequences, he had sworn his staff to secrecy; this part of the research should be protected and kept secret until he could be confident that it would not be misused.
He had hidden, as well as encoded, the research that could be misappropriated. There were no more demands from Van der Walt after the package transport, and so Jannie started to feel more comfortable with the developing relationship. It was after their first successful transplant and the attendant publicity when he was called to his first meeting in Johannesburg by Van der Walt and when he realised more may be required. He was told that there was to be a gathering of the best scientific brains in the country, all of whom would be considering ways in which they could help, through their professions, to preserve the Afrikaner identity.
When he arrived in Johannesburg, he encountered top academics and science professionals from all over South Africa. Initially, there was much scientific discussion and agreement to research funding, which all seemed relatively convivial. A few months after that, he was called to a special mee
ting with a Jacob Strydom, who, he was to learn, was the head of BOSS. Strydom was very unlike Van der Walt, although, as with Van der Walt, he was to learn they had shared a common background in the army. Strydom, though, was not very tall for someone who had been an SAS major, and he now had wispy hair, receding from the front, which made him look older and more harmless. He wore small round glasses that sat on a short fat nose, with a tightly clipped small moustache beneath. The rather nondescript appearance belied a sharp mind, as Jannie slowly discovered.
‘The first thing,’ said Strydom on meeting him, ‘is that you’re an Afrikaner.’
This was a statement of the obvious, but Jannie understood that for someone like Strydom it was a necessary statement of fact on which to build a relationship. It suggested that he was going to be trusted with information that few others would have access to.
‘We’ve identified your understanding that we’re trying to achieve a South Africa that is a prosperous and safe place forever, for both the white and black populations. We also believe that you can help us to achieve that as one of the top Afrikaner minds in the country. We need you to assist in some of the programmes that we’re developing to ensure the longevity and stability of our government.’
Jannie looked at Strydom, realising that this was not a request, but a command, the refusal of which would mean not only the end of any funding but also quite possibly his career. There was no other option, he thought. They had drawn him in with the funding of the transplant programme and by appealing to his Afrikaner roots. Then he rationalised that he would only be providing guidance in scientific endeavours, which he thought his academic friends might see as a bromidic way of assuaging his conscience. Then, they may never know, he thought.
The first meeting of the president’s committee took place in a building that was attached to the BOSS headquarters at John Vorster Square in Pretoria. The arrangements were different from what he had experienced previously in meetings with Van der Walt. Jannie now had a chauffeur pick him up from Johannesburg airport. The driver always wore dark glasses and had an earpiece with which to communicate with his controllers. There was never any conversation, other than the normal greeting in Afrikaans at the airport. The windows of the BMW were darkened and, Jannie guessed, bullet-proof. Access to the building on John Vorster Square was never through the main entrance that he had previously used. He was now taken through a special security gate at the back of the building. From there he took a lift that brought him to the fifth floor and into a conference room.
He was surprised by how many he recognised from the academic world and wondered whether their research funds were also benefiting from their cooperation with BOSS. He was familiar with two academics in particular, as they had both recently been in the paper denying that South Africa had any nuclear weapons. Richard Ingles was the physicist involved and Martyn Stein the professor of astrophysics in Durban. The sight of so many prominent academics was certainly reassuring. Jannie thought they obviously felt this was the right thing to be doing for their country.
After initial introductions, Jannie was made head of the medical research programme. He was told his responsibilities would extend to, and include, the laboratories set up by the defence force. He was presented with a dossier that was marked ‘classified’. Instructions in Afrikaans specified that the dossier was for the eyes of those on the president’s committee only. Flicking through it, he saw that it was divided into various sections. Looking at each of them, he could understand why it was classified. The programmes were clearly identified: Nuclear Weapons/Fusion; ARMSCOR/armaments, International Allies; Germ/Biological Warfare Programme; Red Mercury; and SAA Helderberg. It contained no information below the headings.
He turned to the medical section, which was more substantial than the outlines of the others. There he found various subheadings such as biological, chemical, and industrial programmes grouped with antiterrorist strategies. While he wanted to examine the medical programme more closely, the section on nuclear weapons fascinated him. There had been much discussion in the international press about whether South Africa had nuclear weapons, and he was tempted to quickly scan the summary for more information when General Manfred Opel spoke. In very broad Afrikaans, he reminded them of the commitment to secrecy and that nothing was to be repeated outside of the room. He then continued speaking, looking in Jannie’s direction, before saying that young gifted doctors would be selected to work in a laboratory to determine how the country could be protected through germ warfare. This was only to be used against terrorists gathering in Angola and Mozambique and was to be a defensive/offensive weapon. He indicated that chemical and biological agents would be field tested, when ready, against the Cubans, who had made Angola their home and were supporting the South West African Peoples terrorist Organisation (SWAPO).
Theo Krueger, a young doctor, was introduced after Opel had finished speaking. He was led in through a rear door and introduced as the head of the defence force laboratory in Pretoria. Opel then indicated he would provide a summary of the medical programmes for all those present. Krueger started his summary in broad Afrikaans, explaining there were three areas of research being developed under the germ warfare programme. The bacterial and viral research was underway to determine effective delivery of Ebola virus, Vibrio cholera, Yersinnia pestis and Yellow fever. He explained that the medical research unit had successfully produced symptoms in five black workers who had been ‘accidentally’ exposed to Ebola virus. This, he suggested, was through insufficient precautions, but these had now been overcome. They had died, Krueger went on, but they had provided much valuable information on the reaction to immunoglobulin administered to combat the virus. As Jannie took in the enormity of what had been said, he detected a small smile as Krueger finished his presentation. As someone who had taken an oath to preserve life, that concerned him greatly.
Krueger continued after a small pause as if expecting questions. He then described future developments, including Bacillus anthracis and Ricin—a collaboration with the Israelis and the Bulgarians that was the second arm of the medical programme. Ricin had been effectively field tested by the Bulgarians in London and had been rated highly as an assassination tool. Its limitations, from a South African point of view, were its failure to be employed on a larger scale, but perhaps it could be useful against individual activists.
Given the current threat, he considered that what was needed was something that was available for mass distribution. Thus, the aerosolisation of chemical agents for mass distribution was the third arm of research currently under way. The Israelis, he suggested, were very keen to see whether Ricin could be utilised on a large scale. The full cooperation of the chemical warfare unit in MOSSAD had been given to BOSS. Angola again had been selected as an ideal testing ground, following information gathered from the Special Forces unit. They still had to resolve the size of the particles, which were too large to reach the lower respiratory tract and therefore did not cause the desired lethal lung haemorrhage. Krueger indicated that research was proceeding to perfect the micron size to enable it to be deployed and that he would be providing regular updates to the committee. There was polite applause as he came to the conclusion of this presentation and sat down.
Jannie sat looking at no one in particular, taking in the enormity of what he had heard. Part of him started to wonder whether there was a real and genuine threat that he had not appreciated, from both inside and outside of South Africa. This threat came not only from blacks wanting to take democracy by force but also from those who wanted the country’s rich resources. He understood that countries like Cuba and China were prepared to sponsor black terrorism both within and beyond South Africa’s borders to achieve control of those resources. Jannie had always appreciated the need to defend the Afrikaner heritage, but now, with outside threats to not only the Afrikaner way but also their sovereignty, such defence extremes may be justifiable. As he thought about the implications, the idea of nuclear weapons as a deterrent
seemed less offensive. He felt a little less perturbed when one of the most prominent physicists in the country was introduced and indicated that plans for a nuclear development programme at Faure were well advanced. Jannie even felt comfortable thinking that in his small way he was contributing to a safe future for his country and family.
Before he had the opportunity to again glance at the dossier, the meeting was closed, leaving him with just a declassified summary of developments for the medical defensive protection programme, as it was called. Strydom told him that the folder was not to leave the room and that he was expected to return to Johannesburg within the week to discuss these experiments and to provide his analysis of the results. He had been keen to talk to some of the other scientists, but, clearly, that was not going to happen, as each of them had minders to escort them to the awaiting cars.
As he stood at the bottom of the lift waiting for the chauffeur, he was joined by Martyn Stein, who, along with Richard Ingles, was one of the driving forces behind the nuclear power plant in Koeburg in the Western Cape. He was probably about the same age as Jannie, in his forties, but with prematurely grey hair. Stein was not stereotypical for a professor of physics, other than his grey hair. He did not wear round academic spectacles, which anyway would have looked strange on his large nose. His physique was similar to a marathon runner, very ectomorphic, without being nerdy. Jannie had hoped to talk to him at the meeting, as he knew he was one of the finest minds in South Africa and a world-rated physicist. He had always admired his thinking and the quality of his work. Stein’s drive had established the only nuclear power station in Africa. Living in the Western Cape, Jannie had often wondered why that area had been chosen for a nuclear power station when, from a strategic point of view, there seemed to be much safer places to have built it. To talk to Stein seemed a way to quickly answer many of the questions he’d long had.
Does it Hurt to Die Page 9