Vortex

That eliminated some of the uncertainty, although there had never really been any doubt. Craig had been hoping for a miracle, some sign that the

Afrikaners were bluffing. Miracles were hard to come by down here.

The colonel continued, JCS has also revised their time estimates.

There’s no question that Pretoria has at least half its mining facilities wired already.” He frowned.

“And they’ll have the rest done by the end of the day.”

In response to Craig’s questioning look, the colonel explained, “Our original estimates included complete coverage of each mine by several explosive devices, all connected to a central control point and one alternate. It appears all the Afrikaners are doing is dropping one waste canister on the end of a wire into each mine and leaving one or two men behind to monitor it.”

Craig nodded. One canister of highlevel radioactive waste would be enough to poison a site for decades, maybe even centuries. They could always beef up the demolitions later, if they wanted to.

The discussion broke off as a sergeant came in hurriedly, clutching a sheaf of papers and photographs. He handed the material to the colonel and whispered briefly with him.

“he Cubans are moving.” The staff stirred in their seats at the halfexpected, half-dreaded news. Craig swore silently to himself.

With one hand, the J-2 cleared away some of the papers and dishes

littering the table. Spreading out a line of photo graphs he examined each one.

“These were taken this morning by reconnaissance aircraft from Vinson.” The photos, taken by advanced cameras and digitally enhanced, were clear. Long lines of vehicles, some tanks, clogged every road south of Warmbad.

One photograph had managed to catch a skirmish between the Boers and the

Cubans. The orderly columns were in disarray, and several smudges of smoke could indicate burning vehicles, or perhaps the explosions of artillery shells.

Clearly, the Afrikaners were still fighting, but the Allied staff had already seen the orders of battle for each side. Craig agreed with the common wisdom: the Cubans could be in Pretoria in three days, four at the outside.

They studied the pictures in silence for several minutes. Then Skiles spoke up, obviously expressing the unstated opinion of the whole Joint

Staff.

“Unless we do something fast, General, we’re screwed.”

Craig nodded.

“True. It’s a win-win situation for Cuba, and this guy Vega knows it. He’s turned into a spoiler, and we’ve got to stop him.” He turned to the naval commander.

“Move Independence and Vinson up the coast, Admiral. Start launching air strikes against the Cuban forces immediately. Don’t attack South African ground forces unless they get in the way, but shoot down anything that flies.”

Rear Adm. Andrew Douglas Stewart arched an eyebrow.

“What about

Washington, General? Will the President approve an escalation like this?”

Craig pointed to the photos.

“My original orders cover engaging the

Cubans, if it becomes necessary. Don’t worry about D.C.” Andy. By the time they’ve spent five minutes looking through these, they’ll be howling for action.”

Many of his staff nodded in acknowledgment, but Skiles looked troubled.

“General, why not use just one carrier? That would slow them down some and still leave one ship to support our own advance. Our air cover is still a little thin. “

Craig shook his head.

“No, George, send them both. We’re gonna have to depend on land-based air, and the Cubans are going to need a lot of stopping.” He looked as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

“I hate to look like we’re defending the Afrikaners, but if Vega reaches Pretoria, the show’s over.

We’d wind up doing nothing but fighting over Vorster’s dead body and the ashes of South African industry . “

He looked off into space for a brief moment, silently calculating the kind of delay the Navy’s air strikes could impose on Cuba’s an-no red columns. The answer he kept coming up with was unpalatable and equally undeniable. Some, but not enough. He lowered his gaze to the small group of waiting staff officers.

“All right, gentlemen. We’ve run out of sensible options. It’s time to go for broke. We have to authorize Quantum.

“

First Skiles and then the others reluctantly nodded.

Craig dialed a single-digit number preprogrammed into his command phone.

It was answered on the first ring.

“O’Connell.”

“Rob, this is Jerry Craig. Listen carefully. Your operation is a go. You have forty-eight hours to prepare.”

PRETORIA

Brig. Deneys Coetzee looked up sharply as the phone in his downtown flat buzzed repeatedly. That wasn’t his normal line. That was the second phone.

The one he’d had installed covertly and with an unlisted number known only to a special few.

He raced to answer it.

“Yes?”

“Deneys? This is Henrik.”

Coetzee sat down abruptly. Kruger. This was incredible. He chuckled suddenly.

“My God, man, but you gave me a shock there.”

Kruger laughed softly with him.

“I thought I might.” He turned serious.

“Tell me, can you speak freely?”

“I can. What’s up?”