Ian nodded.
“Good.” The little cameraman shifted gears abruptly.
“Now just who the hell in Pretoria do you suppose likes you enough to spring us from the pokey?”
Ian didn’t answer him until they had passed a pair of armed sentries and stood blinking in the brilliant winter-afternoon sunshine. A taxicab sat parked along the curb.
“I don’t know anyone that high up in Vorster’s good graces, but I know someone who does,” Ian said.
The taxi’s rear door opened and a beautiful, auburn-haired woman got out.
Knowles pursed his lips in a silent, appreciative whistle.
“I see. I do believe I begin to sec.”
Through suddenly narrowed eyes, the short, stocky cameraman watched his friend and partner take the steps two at a time down to meet Emily van der Heijden..
JULY 20-D. F. MALAN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT,
NEAR CAPE TOWN
The announcement buzzed and crackled through the overhead loudspeakers in the same dry, garbled, and disinterested voice used in airports all the world over.
“South Africa Airways Flight one forty-eight to Johannesburg is now ready for boarding. All passengers with confirmed seating are requested to come to the Jetway at this time. “
Ian felt his pulse race as Emily kissed him hard one last time and pulled away.
He started to reach for her and stopped as she shook her head sadly.
“I
must leave.” She blinked away sudden tears.
“I’m afraid there’s no more time.”
Ian fumbled for the handkerchief in his jacket pocket and then gave it up as he saw Emily sling the traveling case over her shoulder.
“Look, if you don’t want to go, then don’t. Stay here with me.”
Another headshake, slightly more vehement.
“I cannot, no matter how much I would wish it. My father is a hard man, Ian. To him, a bargain is a bargain- no matter how forced it might be. So if I do not return home as I promised, he’ll have you rearrested and sent back to America. And I cannot let that happen.”
Ian looked down at the scuffed tile floor. What was happening to her was largely his fault. She’d learned of his arrest when he hadn’t shown up for a dinner date the day of the riot. Nearly out of her mind with worry, she’d done what she would ordinarily have regarded as unthinkable. She’d phoned her father, asking for his help.
As the new government’s deputy minister of law and order, Marius van der
Heijden had the clout needed to spring an unruly pair of American journalists. The man was also a scheming, blackmailing bastard, Ian thought angrily. His price for their release had been Emily’s surrender of her hard won independence-the independence she’d won only after years of stormy argument and outright shouting matches. In her father’s words, she was to be “obedient.”
Emily softly touched his arm.
“You understand?”
He swore in frustration.
“Jesus Christ, this isn’t the Middle Ages! What’s he expect you to do for him… cook, clean, and keep house like every other good little Afrikaner girl?”
The ghost of a smile appeared on Emily’s face.
“No, he knows me better than that. He just wants to keep me away from you and your ‘immoral’ influence.”
The faint smile disappeared.
“Though of course he will expect me to help him around the house. To serve as hostess for parties and braais. ” She used the Afrikaans word for barbecues.
Ian picked up her other bag, and together they walked toward the passenger line forming at the gate.
Emily kept talking, as if she hoped to bury her sadness under a flow of everyday conversation.
“You see, my father’s new position compels him to be more social. And it is important, I suppose, that he be able to show the kind of home his colleagues would regard as ‘normal.”
“
Ian nodded, but couldn’t think of anything to say. He knew how much Emily valued her freedom and how much she loathed her father’s extremist political positions. Now she was willingly going back to everything she had once escaped.
And all for him.
Her sacrifice made his own troubles seem small in comparison.
“Boarding pass, please. ” He looked up. They were already at the gate. A young, uniformed flight attendant had her hand out for Emily’s ticket.
“Look, can I write or call you?” The desperation in his voice was audible.
Emily’s voice dropped to a bare, husky whisper he had to strain to hear clearly.
“No… that would be the worst thing. My father must believe I have broken entirely with you.”
“But…”
She gently laid a finger across his lips, stilling his protest.
“I know,
Ian. It is terrible. But believe this. I will contact you as soon as I can.
As soon as I can find a way to do so without my father’s knowledge.”
Her hand dropped away from his face.
The flight attendant coughed lightly.
“Please, I must have your boarding pass.”
Silently, Emily handed over her ticket and stepped onto the carpeted ramp leading to the waiting plane. Then she turned.
“Remember that I love you, Ian Sheffield.
She disappeared around a bend in the ramp before he could say anything past the sudden lump in his throat.
Ian stood watching until he saw her plane lift off the runway and turn east, sunlight winking painfully off its silvery wings.
CHAPTER
Ear1q Warning
JULY 22-SWARTKOP MILITARY AIRFIELD, NEAR PRETORIA
The single-engined Kudu light utility aircraft rolled to a gentle, shuddering stop near the end of the oil-stained concrete taxiway. Even before the propeller had stopped spinning, ground crewmen were on their way, moving to tie down the Kudu’s wings against sudden gusts of wind.
Commandant Henrik Kruger clambered awkwardly out of the plane’s cramped cockpit, stretched, and then leaned in to shake the pilot’s hand.
“Thanks,
Pieter. A good fast flight, that. I may even have an appetite for lunch.”
He checked his watch. He had nearly an hour left before his scheduled meeting with the chief of staff for operations.
“Look, I should be back from the Ministry in three or four hours. Can you stand by to run me back to Upington then?”
The plane’s pilot, wi Air Force captain, grinned back.
“No sweat,
Kommandant. Take your time. They’ve got a blery good officers’ mess here.
Once I get some food in my belly and put some petrol in the tanks, I’ll be ready to go whenever you say the word.”
