governed in the early 1970s by Portugal.
“In 1974, economic instability led to a military coup in Lisbon. This effectively cut off all funds to Portugal’s foreign interests, including the army. When the Portuguese commanders in both colonies realized that they were about to lose control of the coastal territories, they agreed to set dates for independence: June of 1975 for Mozambique and November of that same year for Angola.”
“Sir, what does this have to do with Francis Vanderveen?” Kealey asked.
“Hold on, I’m getting to that. Some level of authority over these two states was deemed necessary at the top levels of the South African government. After all, their very vision of a white South Africa was at stake. An agreement was quickly reached between the prime minister, John Vorster, and Samora Machel, the rebel leader in Mozambique. Angola was less receptive to the South African proposals, so the land was up for grabs. There were three main parties vying for control of the territory: the rebel-led MPLA, which was backed by the Soviet Union and the Cubans; the FNLA, headed by Holden Roberto and supported primarily by the United States; and UNITA, a centrist organization under the control of a Swiss-educated lawyer named Savimbi.”
Naomi was visibly surprised. “I thought the U.S. government was pretty adamant in its criticism of apartheid. Why would Washington intervene?”
“From our point of view, the South Africans were the lesser of two evils,” the ambassador explained. “The MPLA was well funded by two Communist governments, and there was a good chance they were going to come out on top. We wanted to limit Communist exposure on the African continent, and to do that, we were forced to deal. But it wasn’t actually Washington that stepped in. I’ll explain in a moment.
“Anyway, once Vorster decided to invade, he was offered support by both the French and the Americans. In late 1974, the French government organized a meeting between Savimbi’s UNITA and the South African Bureau for State Security. Francis Vanderveen was one of the first officials invited. Once in Paris, he accused the French foreign minister of trying to ride his army’s coattails into Cabinda, which is an oil-rich enclave of Angola. He was right, of course, but he ruined any potential alliance with the French.”
“So he was stuck with us,” Ryan offered.
“Exactly,” Martins agreed. “And it didn’t seem like such a bad deal at first. The CIA had purchased radio stations and newspapers to run propaganda against the MPLA. The Agency certainly seemed to be doing its part. Vanderveen was selected to lead the invasion force. The prize, of course, was the capital, Luanda. His armored column crossed into Angola on the 23rd of October 1975, and he easily won the first battles at Sa da Bandiera and Namibe, encountering almost no resistance at all. As his forces pushed north toward Benguela, though, things began to change.”
Ambassador Martins stood up and moved to his desk. Unlocking one of the drawers, he came back to the seating area with a small tin box in his hands. Placing it gently on the coffee table, he took his seat once again.
“After our meeting this morning, my people began tracking down William Vanderveen’s surviving relatives. Only one could be found on his father’s side: Deborah Poole, nee Vanderveen, the general’s sister. She’s well on in years now, but she was more than willing to talk with the young man who came out to interview her. And she gave him this.”
The ambassador produced a small silver key and unlocked the box. Then he turned it so that Naomi and Ryan could see the contents.
Kealey leaned forward and picked up the first document. After unfolding the stained, torn paper, he began to read.
My Dearest Julienne,
We are now entrenched in a muddy field outside Novo Redondo. What you would see, if you were here, would not resemble much of an army at all. We have almost no ammunition or fuel due to our waffling politicians. The men are down to one meal a day, and lucky to get that. In all my years as a soldier, I have never felt as unappreciated as I do now.
A man from the American CIA came to look at our maps and give us his educated opinion. I told him that we needed supplies more than anything else, and he laughed in my face. I was told that it is a lost cause, that reclaiming Angola is no longer “politically expedient.” I said that he would feel differently if he had fought over hundreds of kilometers to protect his country.
Julie, I would say this only to you, but I think that we must have them if we are to reach Luanda. It is more than physical supplies: Vorster needs the U.S. after the war as well, and he can’t afford for this campaign to go on. If the Americans were to give him their full support, we would have victory and I would be back at home, where I belong.
That they would abandon us now is unspeakably treacherous to me.
I miss you and William very much. I’ll see you both soon.
Love always,
Francis
Ryan finished the letter and handed it over to Naomi. Selecting another from the box, he read through it quickly. The content was much the same.
“My God,” Naomi murmured after a moment. The ambassador cleared his throat gently, causing both his guests to look up.
“Needless to say, the American support never arrived. It was an Agency operation from the start, black on black. Washington was never involved. Of course, once Congress found out about it, they quickly put an end to things. Officially, the Senate voted to stop all U.S. aid to anti-MPLA forces on the 18th of December 1975. In truth, however, the damage was already done. Once Vanderveen’s column reached Benguela, the MPLA launched a massive counterattack. The rebels had Cuban troop reinforcements and Soviet artillery on their side, whereas Vanderveen was struggling with unreliable supply lines and political indecision in Pretoria. He was forced to pull back his army on the 10th of November. During this time, his letters to Julienne became increasingly bitter, particularly with respect to the Americans.
“Five days later, the general’s helicopter was hit by small-arms fire as it left a camp just south of Cubal. Francis Vanderveen and twelve other soldiers died in the ensuing crash.”
“Unbelievable,” Naomi said softly. Ryan said nothing. He could guess what was coming next.
The ambassador paused for a moment to let the information sink in. Finally, he said, “There were some communication issues that made notification impossible. It wasn’t until two weeks later that the widow was informed. The defense minister broke the news himself, I’m told, in light of Vanderveen’s rank and stature. I suppose it turned out to be too much for Julienne. As I said, she was already devastated over her daughter’s death. Losing her husband must have been the final straw. She committed suicide that same night. According to Mrs. Poole, it was also the last time anyone saw young William in Piet Retief.”
Naomi shook her head slowly. Ryan remained silent. He was beginning to put the pieces together in his mind, but he wanted to hear the ambassador say it first.
Martins studied them each in turn. “Unfortunately, this is where the facts end. Anything else is pure speculation, but I have an opinion, if you’d like to hear it.”
Naomi nodded once. “Please, Ambassador.”
“I think there’s a good chance that William Vanderveen saw these letters,” Martins said, gently resting a hand on the small tin box. “I also think that he probably had something to do with his sister’s death, not to mention what happened to the young man she was seeing. I believe William may have taken what he wanted from his father’s words, because doing so would have been a good deal easier than shouldering the blame himself. In my opinion, Will Vanderveen found exactly what he was looking for in the United States: an outlet for his rage. And he’s not going to stop until everyone knows how he feels.”
CHAPTER 21
PRETORIA, TAJIKISTAN,LANGLEY
For Ryan Kealey and Naomi Kharmai, South Africa had yielded its secrets, and had nothing left to offer. As their meeting with the ambassador drew to a close, Gillian Farris began to make the arrangements for their return
