“She is well?”
“Yes .. Kruger seemed about to say more and then stopped himself.
“Surrender to me now and you will see that for yourself.”
For a brief moment, van der Heijden relaxed his grip on the pistol. It seemed a priceless gift. To see his daughter again, despite all the hurtful words and deeds that had passed between them … He straightened up in his chair. He could not surrender. As a prisoner, his name would always come before hers. She would never escape the shame of it. No, it was better by far to lie buried and forgotten.
Marius van der Heijden looked up from his desk with a sad, worn expression on his face.
“I am sorry, Henrik, but I cannot. You understand?”
Kruger nodded slowly, his own face somber and suddenly much older than his years would warrant.
“I understand.”
” And you will tell her that I Van der Heijden choked on the words.
” Yes. I I
“Thank you, my friend.” South Africa’s minister for law and order raised the Browning Hi Power and slowly aimed it at Kruger’s chest.
“Then I tell you I refuse to surrender. “
Kruger stood motionless, his own weapon still aimed at the floor.
Van der Heijden sighed. Despite everything, it was clear that his old friend and hoped-for-son-in-law could not bring himself to kill a man he’d once respected. So be it, he thought, then we shall both die together.
Van der Heijden tightened his finger around the trigger… and felt himself knocked backward out of his chair by several sledgehammer blows.
For what seemed a long time he stared up at the ceiling, surprised that being shot wasn’t more painful. And then he died.
Henrik Kruger sighed and turned away from the old man’s corpse.
Beside him, Sgt. Asa Collins slowly lowered his assault rifle.
“I’m sorry,
Mr. Kruger. I really am. I didn’t want to kill him. But that guy would have shot you.”
Kruger nodded sadly.
“Don’t worry about it, Sergeant. This was what he wanted.”
QUANTUM STRIKE FORCE
Col. Robert O’Connell crouched low beside the ground-floor window. A radioman lay beside him, holding his radio’s antenna out the window. -X-ray
Tiger One, this is Quantum One. Touchdown. I say again, touchdown. Over.”
Touchdown was the code word indicating that they had successfully captured
Vorster and were ready for pickup. Whatever else happened, the order to poison the mines would never be given. O’Connell knew that the message would be flashed around the world at the speed of light. In less than a minute, Washington would get it and celebrating would begin.
Of course, O’Connell and his men still had to get out of Pretoria alive.
A voice crackled over the static-clogged channel.
“Roger that, Quantum
One. Pickup ETA is five minutes. Say status of LZ. Over.”
A sudden burst of machinegun fire hammered the window frame above them, spraying O’Connell with tiny bits of wood, granite, and marble. He clicked the mike button. LZ is hot, X-ray Tiger. Fucking hot. Hostiles in platoon strength hold the gardens approximately one five zero meters north. “
“Understood.” The voice faded and then came back on channel.
“Injuns en route. ETA three minutes.”
“Roger, out.” O’Connell tossed the mike to the radioman and belly-crawled away from the window back down the corridor. Kruger and
Pryce squatted near their prisoners.
“Any trouble here?”
“None.” Pryce flashed a quick smile.
“I told the bastards I’d kill the first one who so much as blinked wrong. They seem to know I meant it.”
O’Connell grinned back. He studied the row of dejected men sprawled on the marble floor. Except for Vorster, all had their hands tied with silver duct tape. And all of them had their mouths taped shut.
Lightweight, cheap, and convenient, he thought. South Africa’s whole wartime military and political leadership all wrapped up in one neat package.
More firing echoed down the hall. The Afrikaners outside were definitely getting restless.
He checked his watch. One minute left. He turned to the two men.
“Get ‘em on their feet and ready to go. We’ve got company coming anytime now.”
They nodded and started moving among the prisoners, hauling them roughly to their feet. Most still seemed to be in shock, Good. That would make them easier to handle on the ride back-always assuming any of them lived that long.
O’Connell moved back to the window. He could see several black specks on the horizon now, growing bigger as they drew closer to the Union
Buildings.
“Quantum One, this is Red Chief One. On station. Pop smoke to mark your position.”
No shit, O’Connell thought. Even in the building he could hear the clattering, eggbeater sound of several rotors closing fast. O’Connell readied one of his two colored-smoke grenades. He pulled the pin and lobbed the grenade through the open window out into the courtyard beyond.
Wisps of purple mist began wafting upward almost immediately.
“I have violet smoke, Quantum One.”
“Confirm violet,” replied O’Connell.
“Coming in.”
O’Connell turned to face his men crowding the corridor.
“The gunships are coming in now! Get ready to move and move fast! “
Two AH-64 Apaches popped over the trees at the far end of the Union
Buildings’ botanical gardens. Both vanished in brief clouds of smoke and flame as they ripple-fired salvos of 2.75-inch rockets into the Afrikaner troops holding the gardens. Explosions rocked the whole area-shredding plants, trees, and men alike. A stuttering, buzz saw-like roar signaled that the two gunships were also firing their belly mounted 30mm chain guns-each pouring more than six hundred rounds a minute into the same area.
Before the smoke even started to drift away, more helicopters were visible-a long line of ten UH-60 Blackhawk troop carriers flaring in to land in the courtyard one at a time.
O’Connell scrambled upright.
“Kruger! Pryce! First ten! Move ‘em! “
Five Rangers and SAS troopers dragged and shoved five bound prisoners-Vorster and de Wet among them- out the door and hauled them up into the first waiting helicopter. The Blackhawk lifted off immediately, going nose down to pick up speed as soon as their gear cleared the ground.
Like clockwork, the second troop carrier came in. More prisoners and troops ran out and loaded aboard as it waited, rotors howling through the air.
Load after load. Chopper after chopper. By the fifth or sixth, those
Afrikaner security troops who’d survived inside the Union Buildings were beginning to take potshots at the groups of
American or British troops racing for safety. Men who’d almost made it home were being killed or wounded. Not many, but some.
O’Connell watched in anguish. There wasn’t anything he could do. They couldn’t use the gunships without killing many of the hundreds, maybe even thousands, of civilians who were pinned down in their offices inside the government complex. There were snipers in only a very few of those offices. And rockets and chain guns didn’t offer the kind of pinpoint accuracy needed to deal with the bastards.
“Colonel! This is it! Last bird!” Pryce shouted in his ear and pointed behind them. Except for the last eight
