almost beyond recognition. Bodies and pieces of bodies were strewn across the hillside, intermingled with smashed suitcases, bloodstained tablecloths and bedding, and fragments of fine china. Greasy black smoke eddied from half a dozen small fires scattered throughout the wreckage.
It seemed impossible that anyone could still be alive down there.
Kotane’s eyes narrowed. Better to make sure of that while they still had the chance. The Afrikaner security forces would soon be on their way here.
He turned to the men bunched around him and yelled, “Don’t just stand there! Fire! Use your damned weapons!”
Sebe was the first to react. His rocket-propelled grenade ripped a new hole in one of the mangled sleeping cars and
exploded in a brief shower of flame. Then the other guerrillas opened up, flaying the ruined train with a hail of bullets and fragmentation grenades.
David Kotane watched in morbid satisfaction as his men systematically walked their fire down the length of what had once been South Africa’s
Blue Train.
There were no survivors.
CHAPTER
Dead Reckoning
JUNE 28-DIRECTORATE OF MILITARY INTELLIGENCE, PRETORIA
REACTION FORCE BRAVO TWO
OP COM 3/87: 1622 HRS
Message begins: TO DMI-1. RECCE TEAM RE
PORTS TRACKING ENEMY FORCE NUMBERING 10—20 MEN MOVING NNE ON FOOT.
PER SPECIAL ORDERS, NO DIRECT
CONTACT
INITIATED. PURSUIT UNITS STANDING BY. AMBUSH SITE NOW SECURE.
TRAIN
DESTROYED REPEAT, DESTROYED. LIST OF IDENTIFIED DEAD FOLLOWS. Message ends.
Erik Muller laid the message form aside and quickly skimmed through the list of those known to be dead. He was careful to keep the expression of shocked dismay on his face as he read. It was vital that even his most trusted subordinates
believe the news of this brutal guerrilla attack came as a complete surprise to him.
In truth, it wasn’t terribly difficult for Muller to look surprised.
Broken Covenant had produced results far beyond his wildest expectations.
The President, the ministers of defense, foreign affairs, transport, energy, and education, and dozens of other high-ranking officials were all confirmed dead, apparent victims of a vicious and unprovoked ANC ambush. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Once the last few loose ends had been tidied up, Vorster’s path to power would be clear.
His phone rang. He picked it up in mid ring
“Yes?”
“Communications Section, sir. I have a radio voice transmission from
Bravo Two Alpha. Shall I patch him through to your line?”
“Of course.” Muller’s fingers tightened around the phone. Had something gone wrong?
Static hissed and whined in the background.
“Bravo Two Alpha to Delta
Mike India One. Over.”
Muller grimaced. Military jargon held little appeal for him. It lacked all elegance.
“Go ahead, Captain Bekker. Make your report. 11
“Roger, One.” Bekker’s voice was flat, all trace of emotion erased by years of rigorous training and combat experience.
“The terrorists have gone to ground in a small copse of trees approximately seven kilometers north of the railroad. “
Muller glanced quickly at the map. It showed a tangle of steep, rugged ridges, boulder fields, ravines, and isolated thickets. Nightmarish terrain for men moving on foot. It was amazing that the ANC’s guerrillas had gotten as far as they had.
“What’s your evaluation? Do they know your men are following?”
Bekker didn’t hesitate.
“Probably. They’ve certainly heard or seen our helicopters by now.”
Muller didn’t bother to hide his irritation.
“Then why have they stopped?”
“They’re waiting for nightfall, Director.” The captain spaced his words out, almost as if he were talking to a small child. It was clear that he didn’t like having to report to a civilian-even to a civilian so high up in the ranks of the security forces.
“Once the sun sets, they’ll scatter-each man trying to make his own way out.”
“Could any succeed?”
“One or two might make it. The ground here is so broken that even our nightvision gear will have trouble spotting them. “
Muller stiffened. He couldn’t afford to let any of the ANC assault team escape. Close questioning by their superiors might raise too many inconvenient questions.
“I see. Then what’s your recommendation,
Captain?”
For the first time, a hint of barely suppressed excitement crept into
Bekker’s voice.
“We should attack them now, before it grows dark. I can have my troops in position within half an hour.”
Muller nodded to himself. These soldiers might be boorish, but at least they were usually efficient.
“Permission granted. You may use whatever methods you think best.”
He lowered his voice a notch.
“I have only one condition, Captain Bekker.
“Yes, sir?”
“I want them all dead.”
That wasn’t quite accurate. The kill order actually emanated from
Vorster. Muller would have preferred keeping several of the terrorists alive for show trials. The minister, though, wanted to demonstrate South
Africa’s willingness to utterly crush its enemies. But would the soldiers go along with such a scheme?
Muller cleared his throat.
“Do you understand me, Captain?”
Static hissed over the line for several seconds before Bekker answered,
“Quite clearly, Director. You don’t want any prisoners. “
“That’s correct.” Muller paused and then asked, “Does that present a problem for you?”
Bekker sounded almost uninterested.
“On the contrary. It simplifies matters enormously.”
Marvelous.
“Good luck, then, Captain.”
“It’s not a question of luck, sir,” Bekker corrected him.
“It’s more a question of ballistics and kill radii.”
Muller hung up, stung by the army officer’s unconcealed sarcasm. For a brief moment, he considered arranging a much-needed lesson in humility for the man-something that would teach him to show more respect for his superiors. Then he shook the thought away. Bekker’s talent as a competent and calculating killer made him too
