contractor.
Whysall was not easily impressed, but Ryan Kealey’s resume was beyond remarkable, and he had been gratified to learn that he would be working under the man in Johannesburg. During his time at the Blackwater facility in Moyock, Whysall had come to question the standard to which the incoming recruits were trained. Contrary to popular belief, not all of Blackwater’s security people were former members of the SF community. In fact, some of them had no military experience whatsoever. Still others had highly questionable backgrounds. One man Whysall had trained with at the Moyock facility was Chilean, and there were whispers that he had served under the brutal regime of Augusto Pinochet during the late eighties.
Still, Whysall had been relieved to find that the PSD to which he was assigned in Johannesburg had none of those problems. Regardless of whether or not the stories about Kealey were true, there was no denying the fact that the man knew how to run a protective detail. This in itself was nearly enough to confirm for Whysall that Kealey had, in fact, been a Delta operator, as close-quarter protection wasn’t part of the training program in any other branch of the military, save for the Marine Security Guard, which was assigned to U.S. embassies around the world, as well as the White House itself.
A loud roar from inside the courtroom jarred the former marine back to the present, and he felt a moment of shame for allowing his attention to wander. Straightening, he studied the doors leading into the main chamber and wondered what had just taken place inside. He checked his watch quickly and decided that it was too soon for the verdict to have been read. On the other hand, he doubted that the jury would be out for much longer, as the case was all but open and shut, which explained why he was there to begin with, along with seven other members of President Zuma’s Blackwater security detail.
David Joubert, the man currently on trial, had been Zuma’s close friend, business associate, and right-hand man when he was deputy president of South Africa under the previous administration, headed by Thabo Mbeki. Though they were fellow Xhosa tribesmen whose relationship went back to Zuma’s childhood, Zuma had disassociated himself from Joubert shortly after the National Prosecuting Authority, South Africa’s leading judicial body, had charged Zuma with two counts of corruption in 2005, adding fraud, racketeering, and money laundering a couple of years later-allegations that had clung to him even after he won the presidency four years later, ousting Mbeki from the post he’d held since Nelson Mandela left office.
In the eyes of many, including Whysall himself, Joubert was a sacrificial lamb. The intractable poverty and joblessness that beleaguered South Africa-and the entire continent-often led to the fortunes of African politicians turning on a dime. Before his parliamentary election Zuma had been a populist icon, the man who’d gained the backing of organized labor and vowed to bring new business and employment to the nation. But Whysall had been in enough of the world’s poorer countries to know that hope and desperation blinded people to the stains on their chosen savior’s robes.
The charges against Zuma stemmed from his association with Schabir Shaik, a Durban businessman who had been convicted of bribing senior officers in the South African Navy in order to win several lucrative contracts, including the construction of four Valour-class frigates valued in excess of one and a half billion rand, or a hundred fifty million euros, apiece. Additional charges linked Shaik-and, by extension, Zuma-to a French arms company. In that instance, the NPA claimed that Shaik had accepted bribes for military contracts on behalf of Zuma, who was alleged to have unwisely proceeded to launder the money through some of South Africa’s largest banks. Ultimately, Schabir Shaik was sentenced to fifteen years in prison, and shortly thereafter, the National Prosecuting Authority had started to collect the evidence it would need to formally indict Jacob Zuma.
That had been four years earlier, and the problem lay in what had occurred since. Despite having been accused and barely acquitted of rape before his election, Zuma had found a solid base of support in South Africa’s far left, which had grown disillusioned with Mbeki’s habit of ignoring views that conflicted with his own, as well as his steadfast refusal to address the needs of the nation’s vast lower-class community. Zuma’s popularity was so great that the ANC had voted him in as its new party head in 2007, effectively putting an end to Thabo Mbeki’s grasp on the presidency. The only problem had been the assortment of charges levied against Zuma, and they were dismissed on grounds of prosecutorial misconduct, finally clearing his path to power.
Whysall could not have said whether the dismissal had come on a legitimate, if convenient, technicality or quiet disclosures that Mbeki had been pressuring the NPA to disgrace and imprison his chief competitor. Both were rumored, but he was not inclined to plunge into the quagmire of African politics for the truth. He knew, and wanted to know, only as much as was necessary to do his job.
What he knew now was that the same constituency that boosted Zuma to the top had grown disillusioned less than a year into his first term of office. Winter in South Africa lasted from May through September, and the last had been marked with especially cruel, frigid weather. With millions homeless, and millions more living in un-heated shacks, there had been walkouts by chemical, construction, and municipal workers demanding higher wages for themselves-and better housing for their families. As the strikes caused industry to grind to a halt, and unrest spread across the nation, Zuma had returned to his home province of KwaZulu-Natal to implore his most faithful supporters to remain patient with him.
It was no surprise when the corruption allegations resurfaced. Zuma’s recurring problems represented new openings for his opposition. If he were again bogged down in legal proceedings, his career as president, one on which many others staked their own careers and reputations, would grind to an abrupt and final halt…and so would the government, at perhaps the worst of times. In the end it would be the South African people who suffered most from all the political and judicial machinations.
Again, Whysall did not know whether the latest accusations were legitimate. Many Zuma devotees were calling them “Mbeki’s revenge,” asserting he might have stirred the pot behind the scenes. The only sure thing was that Zuma held a secret trump card this time-an electronic and paper trail of evidence he’d supposedly uncovered indicating that it was his lifelong friend David Joubert, who had been appointed national police commissioner, that was responsible for the dealings he’d supposedly engaged in with Shaik.
Was his evidence real? Concocted? Had Zuma thrown Joubert to the wolves to spare himself another trial? It was all too much of a tangle for Whysall, and he wouldn’t likewise twist his brain into knots trying to figure it out. The simple truth was it wasn’t his concern. Blackwater Worldwide was morally neutral, apolitical, and disinterested in anything but the protection of its client.
Bottom line, so was Whysall. For him the situation boiled down to this: Zuma’s people had approached Blackwater just as the Joubert trial was getting under way. It had been discovered that several of the senior figures in the president’s security detail were former members of the South African Police Service whose loyalty to Joubert ran deep. After discovering this alarming fact, Zuma had disbanded his detail in favor of an outside security contractor. Given its success protecting Paul Bremer in Iraq, Blackwater Worldwide had topped the list of possible candidates.
It still wasn’t known if Joubert’s supporters in the SAPS posed a credible threat, but for Blackwater it represented an inarguably profitable one. The outfit’s senior executives had been more than happy to write up the contract, and on receipt of a substantial deposit they had immediately begun drawing up a security profile for the South African president. Now Zuma had an eight-man team at his disposal, as well as five armored vehicles and a Bell helicopter to provide aerial support. The convoy, Whysall knew, was currently waiting in the parking garage, the entrance to which had been sealed off by the local police, and the helicopter would be called in once the Joubert verdict was read.
What happened from that point forward was anyone’s guess. For the most part, the huge crowd gathered outside cared nothing about what happened to Joubert. Many were die-hard Mbeki supporters; others disenchanted followers of Zuma. A sizable group of people asserted the whole trial was a distraction, a sham in which Joubert had willingly participated to turn attention away from Zuma’s dishonesty.
For the Blackwater team it added up to a mess. In short order the courtroom doors would open, and they would have a potentially serious problem on their hands.
A familiar voice caught Whysall’s attention now, and he quickly adjusted the secure Motorola receiver/transmitter nestled in his right ear. “This is Whysall. Go ahead.”
“Whysall, Kealey. What’s happening out there?”
Whysall took a quick look around, trying to gauge the mood of the crowd. Ryan Kealey, he knew, was inside the courtroom, sitting not more than a few feet from the South African president. Zuma had insisted on attending the last day of the trial, and despite his best efforts, Kealey had not been able to talk him out of it.
“The people out here are getting antsy,” Whysall said. “And additional police units arrived in the square a few
