'You obviously haven't let what happened over there stop you,' Kline observed.
'Did you think it would?' Herbert asked.
'No,' Kline replied. He nodded toward the wheelchair. 'Does that thing have afterburners?'
'Yeah, these,' he said, holding up his powerful hands.
Kline smiled his polite smile and gestured toward the main room. It bothered Herbert more than it used to. Maybe it was just because the intelligence chief was older and more cynical. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe his veteran spy antennae were picking something up.
Or maybe you 're just flat out paranoid, Herbert told himself.
'Would you like a drink?' Kline asked.
'A Coke would be nice,' Herbert said as he wheeled himself in. This was the first time he had been to one of the rooms. He stopped by the bed and watched as Kline went to the minibar. The South African turned the key and removed a can of soda.
'Would you like anything else?' Kline asked.
'Nope,' Herbert said. 'Just the Coke and an update.'
MISSION OF HONOR
67
'I promised you dinner,' Kline said. 'Shall I call for it?'
'I'm okay for now, and we know you just ate,' Herbert said.
'Touche,' Kline said.
'So,' Herbert said. 'Why are you here?'
'To talk to Cardinal Zavala here in Washington and Cardinal Murrieta in New York,' he replied as he handed the Coke to Herbert. 'We need to get more American missionaries into the field in southern Africa.'
'Quickly, I assume?' Herbert said.
Kline nodded. Then his mood changed. The bright blue eyes lost a little of their light. The thin mouth tightened. He began to pace the room. 'We're facing a potentially explosive situation in Africa, Robert,' Kline said slowly. 'And I do not mean just the Vatican.'
'You're talking about the incident yesterday with Father Bradbury,' Herbert said.
'Yes,' Kline said. A hint of surprise crossed the poker face. 'What do you know about that?'
'You first,' Herbert said. He held up the can. 'My mouth is dry.'
'Fair enough,' Kline said knowingly.
Bob Herbert never went first. Having more information than someone else, even an ally, was always a good thing. Today's allies could be tomorrow's adversaries.
'Father Powys Bradbury was abducted by a militia that was led by someone who we believe is Leon Seronga,' Kline said. 'Do you know that name?'
'Doesn't spark anything,' Herbert said.
'Seronga is a former Botswana soldier who helped to organize the Brush Vipers,' Kline said. 'They were a very effective intelligence unit that helped Botswana break away from Great Britain.'
'I know about the Brush Vipers,' Herbert said. This was not what he had wanted to hear. If the Brush Vipers were back, in more than just name, it meant that what happened was probably not a small, isolated action. A
'Seronga was spotted two weeks ago at the Botswana vil-
68
OP-CENTER
lage of Machaneng,' Kline went on. 'He was attending a rally held by a religious leader named Dhamballa.'
'Is that his real name?' Herbert asked as he unfolded his computer. 'I mean is that a surname or a tribal name or an honorary title?'
'It's a variant spelling of the name of a god of the Vodun faith,' Kline said. 'We do not know more than that. And we do not have direct access to him. Nor is his image in our file.'
'At least, not under that name,' Herbert said.
'Correct.'
'But this Dhamballa is the reason you had someone watching the rally,' Herbert said.
'Yes,' Kline admitted.
Herbert asked Kline for the spelling of the name. He made a note of it in a new computer file.
'We routinely watch all religious movements in Africa,' Kline added. 'It's part of the apostolic tool kit.'
'Collecting intel about rivals,' Herbert said.
'You never really know who your rivals are-'
'Or who they might be fronting for,' Herbert said. Political activism often hid behind a new religious idea. That made it easier to sell to the masses.
