Heads bobbed around the room in agreement.
“Haymans and his pack of traitorous curs have shown themselves ready to sell out to the communists, to the blacks, and to the Uitlanders. We have all seen their rush to surrender. No one can deny it. No one can doubt that the talks they propose with the ANC would be the first step toward oblivion for our people.”
More heads nodded, Muller’s among them-though he hid a cynical smile as he heard Vorster’s rhetoric ride roughshod over reality. He doubted that
Haymans had ever seriously contemplated the complete abdication of all white authority. Still, the exaggeration had its uses. Even the faint chance of a total surrender had already roused a fire storm of anger and hatred among South Africa’s militant right-a fire storm that Vorster would use to cleanse the Republic when the time came. And Muller knew that time was coming soon. Very soon. He turned his attention back to his leader’s impassioned diatribe.
“We must be ready to save our people when they cry out for our aid. As they will! True Afrikaners will not long be deceived by the web of false promises of peace Haymans and his cronies are spinning. Soon the bestial nature of our enemies shall stand revealed in the clear light of day.”
Vorster clenched his right fist and raised it high, toward the ceiling.
“God will not allow his chosen people to fall into the Devil’s clutches.
He will save us. And He will punish all who sin against the Afrikaner way-against God’s way!”
For a split second Muller was lost in the illusion that he’d somehow stumbled into a church meeting. It was an impression reinforced by the muttered “Amen” ‘s that swept through the room.
Vorster’s next words shattered the illusion.
“Therefore, gentlemen, we must be prepared for immediate action. When the people turn to us for salvation, we must move quickly to seize all reins of power-the ministries, the military, and the information services alike. You will be our vanguard in this effort. Do you understand me?”
One of the men still wearing a suit and tie stepped forward a pace.
Muller recognized the sober, jowly face of the Transvaal’s Security
Branch chief, Marius van der Heijden.
“Not quite, Minister. Are we to plan for direct action against Haymans’s faction?”
“A good question, Marius. ” Vorster slowly shook his head and lifted his eyes to meet those of the others around the room. ” I am not planning a coup d’etat. I propose no treason against the State.”
He looked steadily at Muller.
“No, that is not what I foresee.”
Muller felt a chill run down his spine, Was the minister going to blow the Broken Covenant secret? Even one of these trusted few could inadvertently reveal the knowledge he held to the wrong people. And such a leak would prove disastrous. He opened his mouth to interrupt.
But Vorster spoke first, calming his fears.
“I believe that our enemies themselves will give us the opportunity we seek. The timing will be their own. That is why you must be ready to move quickly. When God’s day of reckoning comes, only
those who act swiftly will emerge victorious. So be prepared. That is all
I ask of you now.”
Again, the men filling the room nodded their agreement, though few bothered to hide their puzzlement. No matter, Muller thought, they’d been given all the advance warning they should need. And if the ANC’s plan worked, South Africa would soon find it had new masters.
Satisfied, Vorster allowed himself to relax, momentarily concealing his naked ambition beneath a mask of benign good fellowship.
“But come now, my friends. No more business tonight, eh?”
He sniffed the air appreciatively.
“It seems that my ‘boys’ have done a good job with the beef tonight. And a fine thing, too. After all, this politicking is hard work, and we must keep up our strength, right?”
Appreciative chuckles greeted his attempt at humor, and the other men began drifting toward the door-ready for the barbecue that provided a cover for the evening’s meeting.
As Muller started to follow, he felt a strong hand close on his sleeve.
It was Vorster.
The minister tugged him back toward the fireplace, away from the others.
“Well, how goes it? Are those black bastards still on schedule? Has there been any reaction to Haymans’s offer of talks?”
Muller stared impassively at him, carefully weighing the pros and cons of telling Vorster about the ANC’s failed attempt to abort Broken
Covenant. Until now, the minister’s role in this conspiracy had been largely passive-more a matter of withholding information from others in the government than of acting on it. If he retroactively approved Muller’s secret efforts to push the ANC attack forward, Vorster would be playing a more active part in betraying his erstwhile colleagues. But would he go that far?
“What is it? Has something gone wrong?” The grip on Muller’s wrist tightened.
He made no effort to pull away. Vorster sounded disappointed, not panicked. Excellent. Muller made a snap judgment. The older man’s craving for power must be overcoming the inhibitions normaHy imposed by custom and loyalty.
He must really believe that only he could stop Haymans’s sellout.
“Everything is moving forward as planned, Minister.” Muller leaned forward, closer to his leader’s rugged face.
“Though I have been forced to take certain measures .. …. “What measures?” Vorster kept his voice low, but his words had a steel-hard edge to them.
Without hesitating further, Muller told him everything. Vorster stayed silent as he spoke, save for an appreciative grunt when the younger man described Mbeki’s fatal “accident. “
He released Muller’s wrist.
“You’ve done well.”
Muller felt a wave of relief. The minister was fully committed.
Vorster clasped his hands behind his back and stared into the fire.
“Some of the things we are called upon to do would be distasteful, even reprehensible, in ordinary times. But these are not ordinary times.
“
He sighed and laid a hand on Muller’s shoulder.
“We are the servants of the Lord, Erik. And the Lord’s work is a heavy burden.” He straightened.
“But we should rejoice in that burden. It is an honor given to few men in any age.”
With difficulty, Muller hid his distaste. Why bring God into it? Power was justification enough for any deed. He forced a murmur of assent to satisfy Vorster’s sensibilities.
The two men turned away from the fire, two very different men driven toward the same means and the same end absolute control over the Republic of South Africa.
JUNE 18-IN THE HEX RIVER MOUNTAINS
Riaan Oost was aware first of the silence. An eerie, all encompassing silence spreading outward from the jagged, broken cliff face. No shrill animal cries or lyrical, lilting bird songs broke the odd stillness, and even the insects’ endless buzzing, whirring, and clicking seemed muffled and far away. The dust spun up by his pickup hung in the air, a hazy, golden cloud drifting north along the rutted trail.
He slid out from behind the truck’s steering wheel, careful to keep his hands in plain view. There were hidden watchers all around, armed men who feared treachery more than anything else. Oost moved slowly along the side of his pickup. His survival depended on his own caution and their continued trust. It had been that way ever since the guerrillas assigned to Broken
Covenant had begun arriving at his cottage.
He leaned into the back of the truck and hoisted a large wooden crate onto his shoulder. Beer and soda bottles clinked together, cushioned by loaves of his wife’s fresh-baked bread, packages of dried meat, and rounds of
