Vortex

“So what we must do is clear. We must threaten to destroy what they hold so dear. We will send an ultimatum to our enemies, threatening to render these mines useless unless they leave our lands immediately.”

De Wet’s puzzlement was so strong that he forgot to mask his feelings, but his expression was mirrored around the table.

Vorster swept his arm around the room, his voice filled with excitement.

“Can’t any of you see it? Think! The world’s financial markets have been frightened by a temporary disruption of the resources we hold. Think of how much pressure those money-grubbing bankers will put on their governments if they think the supply will stop altogether.”

De Wet could not wait any longer.

“But how? We can dynamite some of our mines, but they could always be reopened. And most are nothing more than vast open pits impossible to destroy.”

Vorster nodded.

“True enough, General. But the answer is not dynamite.

It is radioactive dust-the wastes produced by our reactors.” If he noticed the instinctive horror on the faces around him, he didn’t show it.

“Our threat will be simple and credible. Unless the attacking armies cease fire immediately and withdraw from our territory, we will scatter radioactive waste over every mine and smelter under our control.”

De Wet found himself intrigued by the idea. The highlevel radioactive wastes produced by South Africa’s two nuclear reactors could contaminate the surfaces of the mines and other industrial facilities for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Decontamination would be both fantastically difficult and prohibitively expensive. What Vorster had in mind would be a powerful threat to the world’s strategic minerals supplies.

De Wet looked up.

“But what do we do, Mr. President, if they call our bluff?”

Vorster’s face reddened and he shouted, “It is not a bluff! If they continue to advance, we will wreck these mines!”

He paused and spoke more calmly, almost pleading.

“Don’t you see? We have never truly needed this wealth to survive as a pure society. It has been a source of endless trouble-of

Uitlander speculators and unruly black laborers. The trek boers and early farmers built our nation. And when these mines are gone, our farms will remain.”

De Wet nodded slowly in agreement. The South Africa they all knew was dying anyway. Perhaps it was better to rob their enemies of the fruits of victory than to go down to defeat whimpering in despair. He started, suddenly aware that Vorster was speaking directly to him.

“General, I need every engineer you can muster, and a list of every mine we still possess.”

De Wet nodded, turned to his officers, and started issuing the orders needed to prepare South Africa’s economic suicide.

CHAPTER

Acceleration

JANUARY 6-HEADQUARTERS, ALLIED EXPEDITIONARY FORCE, DURBAN

Lt. Gen. Jerry Craig held two message slips in his hand. One read, Do not believe Vorster has political control or resources to carry out his threat. Recommend continuing offensive operations.

The second telex said, Expert consultants have advised us that Vorster’s claim is credible. Suggest you halt operations and use time to consolidate position until way is found to clear demolitions from mine sites.

One was from CIA, the other from the State Department. The third message he’d received was the one that counted ostensibly a secure voice call from the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but actually reflecting the

President’s own opinion. Ten minutes of talk that boiled down to, “We rely on your estimate of the situation and will back whatever judgment you make. ” Well, he would have resented anything else, but it still left him the man on the spot.

Every senior and junior staff officer in the Allied head812

quarters packed the briefing room. Officers of two nationalities and every service filled the chairs and lined the walls. Christ, Craig thought, I don’t know half of these people. And that bothered him. Part of the problem of holding higher level command was that you had to rely on the abilities of men and women you would never know as more than slots filled in on an organization chart.

As more and more officers streamed in, Craig sat, conferring with Skiles and the division commanders. There were always operational matters to discuss, and he was so wrapped up in the 24this supply situation that he almost didn’t feel the tap on his shoulder. Sergeant Major Bourne loomed over him, tall, barrel-chested, and every inch the Marine’s Marine.

“Sir, it’s time.”

Craig glanced at his watch.

“Thank you, Sergeant Major.

He glanced behind him at the packed room and listened to the near-deafening buzz of conversation. He knew what they were talking about. Any headquarters was a rumor mill, and Vorster’s last-ditch threat had provided fertile ground for speculation. Some of the rumors about planned Allied action were entertaining, others were just flat-out wrong.

“Let’s get things rolling.”