Vortex

Taylor put steel into his voice. It was essential that this Afrikaner hear no sign of weakness or fear.

“Reitz ordered our troops to continue firing at the protestors after they had dispersed. I countermanded his illegal order, and when he attempted to murder Captain Hastings and myself, I was forced to shoot him in self-defense.”

Kloof ‘s eyes flicked down to the now-holstered pistol, and then up to meet Taylor’s steady gaze.

“Major, there is nothing illegal about shooting protestors who try to resist arrest by running.” The Afrikaner’s eyes narrowed.

“I heard the colonel talking to you earlier. And I know that he ordered my company here because he did not trust Hastings or his men.”

Kloof stepped closer.

“In fact, Major, I think he was going to have you and Hastings arrested, for dereliction of duty, disloyalty, or both.

“Therefore, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Colonel

Reitz.” The captain started to reach for his sidearm, but paused when he saw Taylor slowly shake his head. He frowned and pulled the pistol from its holster. His frown grew deeper as Taylor stood motionless, apparently unconcerned.

The major merely looked over his shoulder, nodded briefly, and said, “I think not, Captain. I suggest that you drop your weapon and turn around slowly. Very slowly.”

Kloof heard several metallic clicks behind him. He paled. He’d heard that sound nearly every day of his professional life. It was the sound of safeties being released.

He let his pistol fall from nerveless fingers and turned to see half a dozen rifles aimed at his stomach, all held by men of A Company.

The Afrikaner licked lips gone suddenly dry.

“Is this a firing squad,

Major?”

Taylor shook his head, almost amused. He didn’t doubt

that it would have been a firing squad if the Afrikaner captain had held the upper hand instead.

“Just a guard detail. We’re making a few changes,

Andries. You and some of your like thinking friends are going to jail. And we’re letting the elected officials of this city out to form a new government.”

“What? That bunch of traitors?”

“Yes, Captain Kloof, that’s right. That bunch of ‘traitors’ and my bunch of ‘traitors’ and a lot of other ‘traitors’ are going to bring this country back to some semblance of sanity, starting with Cape Town.”

Motioning to the guards, Taylor said, “Get him out of hem. “

As Kloof was led away, Taylor ordered Hastings and his platoon leaders to bring C Company over, one platoon at a time. They would either join the rebel force or be detained. He was sure of two of C Company’s junior officers, and the third might side with them as well.

Then, with two rifle companies firmly in hand, they’d see how many others in the city’s military garrison and police force would join them to throw off Pretoria’s dictatorial control.

Sighing, he looked at his watch. It was already one-thirty in the afternoon, and he had a lot to do before dusk.

STATE SECURITY COUNCIL CHAMBER, PRETORIA

Messengers kept bringing in new reports from Cape Town, none of it good.

Radio stations off the air. Contact lost with the international airport.

Telephone lines down. It was always news of some strand’s being cut, some part of the fabric of government lost to their control.

The room was filled with government officials and military and police officers. Maps of Cape Town and Cape Province hung on the wall, and colored circles showed the known extent of the revolt. Vorster and his civilian ministers sat at one end of the table, while military aides under General de Wet’s somewhat confused direction tried to manage the few forces still under their control.

It was clear those forces were shrinking fast. Only one battalion, the 16th Infantry, had officially mutinied, but reports from the two other battalion commanders near Cape Town indicated that their units were not “completely reliable. ” Commandos had formed in the city and the surrounding townships, and many were siding with the mutineers.

Government strength seemed to be coalescing around Table Mountain, the three-thousand-foot high escarpment dominating the city skyline and the southern Cape Peninsula. Honeycombed with caves and bunkers, it had been always been designated as the final defensive position for South African forces holding Cape Town. Now infantry companies and fragments of infantry companies were reported regrouping atop the mountain.

Marius van der Heijden found himself clasping his hands as though in prayer as he listened to the steady stream of bad news streaming in and forced himself to pry them apart. He glanced toward the end of the table where Karl Vorster sat white-faced and immobile. His eyes, once so impressively cold and clear, were now shadowed and rimmed with red from too many sleepless nights.

Van der Heijden frowned. More and more these days, as people outside

Vorster’s immediate circle challenged his authority, the President withdrew into himself-as though he could shut out the very events he had triggered. It was a bad sign.