“Let me talk to him!”
The sergeant gave him the handset.
“Karel? This is Peiper.” The colonel frowned. Blast it, he could scarcely hear or talk inside this wretched suit.
“Listen carefully. I want you to counterattack-“
A yell from one of the soldiers manning the bunker’s southern firing slit interrupted him.
“Movement along the access road, Colonel! Trucks! Ten or twelve of them!”
Peiper threw the phone down and joined a general rush over to the narrow opening. He squinted toward the access road linking Pelindaba’s military and civilian sectors. Dim shapes rumbled slowly along the road, silhouetted against a row of burning buildings. He recognized the distinctive outlines of canvas-sided Samil trucks made only in South
Africa. Were these reinforcements from Voortrekker Heights? They must be.
With trembling fingers, he raised his binoculars and focused them carefully. The trucks and the men riding on them leapt into closer view.
That was odd. Their helmets were strangely shaped-almost exactly like the old-style coal-scut tie helmets worn by the German Wehrmacht during World
War II.
Despite the sauna-bath heat of the chemical protection suit he wore,
Peiper felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The soldiers aboard those trucks were the enemy-not a friendly relief force. Even worse, they were driving straight toward the special weapons bunkers.
The Fates were not kind to Col. Frans Peiper. He had just enough time to savor his utter and absolute failure before an American recoilless rifle round burst against the edge of the firing slit-just twenty centimeters in front of his horrified face.
HEADQUARTERS COMPANY, 1/75TH RANGERS, AT THE WEAPONS STORAGE SITE
Prof. Esher Levi surveyed the frantic activity around the five weapons storage bunkers with increasing satisfaction. After what had seemed a most unpromising and bloody start, the Americans were finally getting Brave
Fortune back on track. Pelindaba’s uranium enrichment plant had been wrecked. His fellow countrymen had been rescued. Even more important, survivors from O’Connell’s headquarters and the other Ranger units were busy loading several of the South African trucks they’d hot-wired and “liberated” from the Pelindaba vehicle park. Sleek, metallic cylinders, each carried by ten men, were carefully being hoisted up and into their rear cargo compartments.
“We’ve got that last bunker open, Professor. The colonel’s waiting for you there.”
Levi turned. Smoke and sweat had stained Maj. Peter Klocek’s lean, tanned face.
“The weapons are there?”
Klocek nodded wearily.
“Yeah. The last two. But the colonel’d like you to make sure of that.”
“Of course.”
Levi hobbled after the much younger American officer through a maze of hurrying soldiers. The entrance to the last storage bunker lay down a set of steps. A thick door sagged to one side-blown off its hinges by small charges of plastic explosive.
The two men ducked down and into the bunker. Several unbroken, battery-powered emergency lights illuminated a single chamber measuring roughly twenty feet by fifty feet. Steel racks lined each concrete wall.
Four metal half cylinders-twin halves of two twenty-kiloton fission bombs-rested in separate sections of the racks, kept physically apart to preclude what technicians referred to as “premature weapon criticality.”
Levi smiled to himself, remembering his first appalled reaction to the techno babble term used to describe what might, in the worst case, be an uncontrolled chain reactiona runaway nightmare of hellish temperatures and deadly neutron radiation.
He moved to where O’Connell stood examining one of the four bomb halves.
The American lieutenant colonel looked just about out on his feet-bruised, bedraggled, and bloodstained. The Israeli scientist suddenly felt a wave of admiration for this brave man. It was an uncomfortable feeling, especially since the orders he’d received from his own government would soon force him to lie to the Ranger officer. Though not about these bombs themselves, thank God.
“Have we got them all, Professor?” O’Connell sounded as tired as he looked.
Levi nodded.
“These two weapons make a total of nine. Every fission bomb the Afrikaners had left.” He leaned past the American officer and examined a printed manifest taped to the rear half of one weapon.
“It would appear that your attack came just in time.”
“Oh?”
Levi pointed to the manifest.
“Those codes indicate that this weapon has been thoroughly checked, certified ready for detonation, and prepped for movement within the next twenty-four hours.”
O’Connell looked grim.
“So those bastards were going to drop another nuke?
This one?”
Levi nodded again and tapped the bomb’s exposed corea smooth piece of dark metal about half the size of a small grapefruit.
“It seems hard to believe that this little lump and its twin over there could kill thousands or even tens of thousands, doesn’t it? But believe me, this is really all one needs-a few kilograms of highly enriched uranium. That and the proper arrangement of a few more kilos of high explosive. “
O’Connell took an involuntary step backward.
“Christ! That stuff’s U-235?”
Levi nodded a third time, inwardly amused. Like many laymen, O’Connell obviously had some serious misconceptions about nuclear materials. He’d also been too busy planning the operation itself to attend Levi’s technical training sessions. The temptation to lecture, just a bit, was simply too strong to resist.
The Israeli scientist laid his palm flat on the bomb’s metallic core.
“As a solid metal, U-235 is not dangerously radioactive, Major. It’s mainly an alpha emitter, and even your skin can stop alpha particles.” He stroked the smooth black surface.
“You could even hold this in your lap for a month or more without suffering any significant ill effects.”
O’Connell took the unsolicited science lesson with good grace. He grinned suddenly, appearing years younger for a brief instant.
“Hell, Professor,
I’d curl up to sleep with every one of these damned things for a year if it meant getting ‘em safely out of this frigging country. “
Ten Rangers led by the leader of the battalion’s Support Platoon trotted down the steps and crowded into the bunker.
“Okay to take these now,
Colonel?”
“You bet. Carry on, Harry.” O’Connell moved toward the entrance with Levi in tow.
The Israeli scientist risked a quick glance at his watch. So far so good.
He’d helped the Rangers find and capture South Africa’s nuclear arsenal.
Now he had to try completing the most difficult part of his mission-the part he’d kept secret from the Americans. He cleared his throat.
“Your troops hold most of the compound, don’t they?”
“Yeah.” Small elements of Pelindaba’s garrison still fought from sections of trench along its northern perimeter, but almost all the rest of the
South African soldiers had been killed or wounded. O’Connell paused just outside the bunker doorway and looked down at him.
“Why do you ask, Professor?”
