one thing power The power of the whip and the gun. That was the only real way for true Afrikaners to maintain their baasskap, their mastery, over the nonwhite races of South Africa. How else could 4.5 million whites avoid being submerged by the 24 million others they ruled? Too many in Pretoria and Cape Town had forgotten those numbers in this hateful rush toward “moderation. “
As Muller said, it was time to remind them.
Vorster eyed his subordinate. The man’s instincts were good, but his arrogance was an irritation. The Scriptures were clear. Sinful pride opened a doorway for Satan’s whispers. Perhaps Muller needed a small taste of the lash himself. Not much. Just enough to keep his mind focused on his true master.
With short, powerful strokes he began smoothing the documents he’d crushed.
“Very clever, Muller. Not too clever for your own good, I hope?”
Muller stiffened.
“No, Minister. But I am loyal… loyal to you and to our cause!”
Vorster’s smile widened, though it never reached his eyes.
“Of course you are. I’ve never doubted it.” He folded the captured plans for Broken
Covenant and slid them into a drawer.
“Haymans has called a special cabinet meeting in Cape Town to discuss our current foreign policy. Maybe
I’ll use this little present you’ve brought to me to set the right tone for the discussion tomorrow.
“In the meantime, Muller, I want this matter held strictly between the two of us. Understood?”
Muller nodded.
“You have the only printed copy of the material, Minister.
And the negatives are locked in my safe.”
“Has anyone else seen this?”
“Just the technician who developed the film. I’ve already sworn him to secrecy.” Muller arched a single finely sculpted eyebrow. “in any event,
Minister, I’m certain he can be trusted. He is one of our ‘friends.”
“
Vorster knew exactly what Muller meant by “friends. ” He meant the
Afrikaner Weerstandbeweging, the Afrikaner Resistance Movement. The AWB existed to assure South Africa’s continued domination by an all-white and “pure” Afrikaner power structure. Its publicly known leaders organized mass political rallies of gun-toting fanatics and maintained a brown shirt paramilitary group known as the Brandwag, or Sentry. They preached a gospel combining both militant nationalism and virulent hatred for those they saw as dangerous “aliens” in South Africa-blacks, Indians, mixed-race coloreds, Jews, and even Englishdescended whites. And though the ruling National Party dismissed the AWB as a lunatic fringe group, its members~ ip continued to climb steadily. In fact, every gesture madu by the National Party toward political and racial moderation boosted the
AWB’s strength.
Few, if any, knew that the AWB maintained another, more ominous organization-an organization whose members were scattered secretly throughout South Africa’s political and military elite. None attended the
AWB’s rallies or appeared on its voter lists. but all were committed to its vision of a divinely inspired, white- ruled state. Most remained ostensible members of the National Party and even the Broederbond-itself a vast, intensely secretive organization of the Afrikaner power structure.
So the world looked at South Africa and saw it ruled by the National
Party. In turn, those inside South Africa looked at the National Party and saw it guided by the shadowy hand of the Broederbond. And hidden deep within the Broederbond lay a hard core of men loyal only to the AWB and to Karl Vorster-their true leader.
After Muller left, Vorster sat silently, contemplating the opportunity given him by God and Capt. Rolf Bekker.
MAY 30-CABINET ROOM, THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT, CAPE TOWN, SOUTH
AFRICA
Frederick Haymans, state president and prime minister of the Republic of
South Africa, stared angrily across the council table at his minister of law and order.
Vorster hadn’t been his choice for the post. He’d been forced on Haymans by the National Party’s conservative wing, a group anxious to make sure that security policy remained in what it considered more trustworthy hands. Since then, he’d proved a constant thorn in the President’s side first by quarreling with established policies and now by outfight sabotage of those same policies.
“This little Zimbabwean adventure of yours has cost us damned dearly,
Vorster! I find it hard to believe that even you could act so stupidly.”
Heads nodded in agreement around the table. Few of Vorster’s colleagues liked or trusted him. And none saw any advantage in contradicting their president and party leader.
Vorster purpled.
“That’s nonsense and you know it! We haven’t lost anything of real value. In fact, we captured’ Nothing of value?” Haymans cut him off.
“Months of painstaking negotiations are about to go down the drain and you still say that! We need these talks with the ANC and the other black groups. And we need continued good relations with our neighbors.”
“More nonsense!” Vorster’s fist crashed onto the table.
“These talks you are so fond of citing have produced nothing but hot air and trouble. Why, the ANC’s terrorists even flaunt their weapons, jeering openly at our police. I tell you, we should never have allowed that collection of half-witted, bareassed, communist thugs out of prison!
“And as for Zimbabwe and the others… hah!” He dismissed the rest of
Haymans’s argument with a contemptuous wave of his hand.
“The socalled front line states have nothing we want and nothing we need. If we show continued strength, they will come begging to us-just as they always have!”
Silence greeted his tirade, a silence broken by the foreign minister.
“It’s quite true that the negotiations themselves have produced little of concrete value-“
“So, you admit I’m fight!” Vorster snapped “No.” The foreign minister’s irritation showed plainly on an urbane face normally able to hide strong emotion.
“These talks with the ANC’s and other black leaders have tremendous symbolic value-both for blacks here and for the financial superpowers abroad. They demonstrate our intent to continue making needed reforms. And to be blunt, gentlemen, we must show further progress soon if we’re to keep our economy afloat. “
Others in the Cabinet Room muttered their agreement. South Africa’s inflation rate, unemployment rolls, and budget deficit were all rising at an alarming rate. Anyone with open eyes could see the prospect of impending economic collapse. The underlying and interwoven causes of this imminent disaster were equally clear.
Fed up with continued economic exploitation and white political domination, the nation’s black-led labor unions had
initiated a rolling series of crippling and costly strikes. At the same time, continuing conflicts with its neighbors forced South Africa to keep a large number of its reservist Citizen Force troops on active duty-draining both the civilian economy and the government’s treasury.
Even worse, the world’s banks and moneylenders, wary of entanglement with an unstable, oppressive regime, were increasingly unwilling to pour needed capital into the Republic of South Africa.
Faced with this situation on taking office, Haymans and his colleagues had implemented a modest series of reforms. They’d dismantled many of the last vestiges of “petty” apartheid in cities across South Africa-policies that had banned interracial marriages, restricted black movement, and vigorously maintained “whites only” beaches, restaurants, buses, and parks. They’d moved to improve relations with neighboring states. They’d even freed captive ANC leaders and un banned organizations they’d once labeled “terrorist. ” And all these reforms had been capped by talks aimed at finding some acceptable form of political power-sharing with the country’s black majority.
