"Then again," the Zulu added, shaking his head sadly, "I used to think we blacks could run the country. I think maybe we could have. I think we should have. But the last couple of decades have proven only that we are running it into the dirt, quite despite could haves and should haves. And I see no solution."
"You still haven't said how much."
Boer and Bantu again exchanged glances. "One hundred thousand Rand, each," Viljoen said, "for a turretless car with a working engine. Two hundred and fifty thousand for one with a 90mm turret with a working gun. No radios included. Plus transportation to the port. I'll have to get you a quote on that. Plus the cost of the containers and port fees and loading fees. Call it ten million Rand, all told. And another four million for the 90mm ammunition. I'm going to have to bribe someone for that."
"Fortunately," Dumisani said, "since liberation everyone can be bribed."
"We weren't," Viljoen said, "as honest as all that even before hand."
Victor did some quick calculations. One point five million dollars, give or take. Plus as much for Dov to recondition them. I can charge the Americans maybe four million. That's a fair profit and worth my time. And if the Americans are willing to go for ground mounted mortars, I can provide those from my own stocks.
"I'll ask if the turretless ones will do," Victor said. "And if a place for you can be found among the group I represent. I suppose, since they're going to be using ‘noddy cars,' that people who know how to maintain them would be useful."
"Not just maintain," Dumisani said. "We know how to use them."
Victor was about to comment on that, when his PDA buzzed. It was a text message. He read it, and smiled. It seems Messers Nyein and Naing and the government of Myanmar need some arms.
Assembly Area Alpha-Base Camp,
Amazonia, Brazil, D-107
"Ralph," Stauer asked of his chief intelligence officer, Boxer, "just how compromised are we?"
The former Air Force general shook his head. "You're referring to the foreigners? Or just generally?"
"Both?"
"I don't think we are . . . yet. Let me explain."
"Please do."
"Only nineteen of us really know the mission, twenty if you count Wahab. Most of those are here. Reilly and Phillie, back in San Antonio, know. But he wouldn't tell his mother and she's your girl. Harry Gordon and his assistant in Guyana know. They wouldn't tell anyone either. Terry Welch knows. So does Biggus Dickus. Their teams don't know. Cruz knows. So does Kosciusko. They're not going to say a word. Everyone else is pretty much in the dark. Illegal Mexicans are assembling kit planes near Seattle and have not clue one. A bunch of Chinese with Kosciusko just want to escape China."
Boxer chewed at his lower lip for a moment, then said, "In a way, we're not compromised enough."
Stauer's eyes widened, incredulously. "Huh?"
"I haven't told any of my contacts what's up. I need to, or eventually they're going to start asking questions and maybe interfering on general principle. You know Victor's reporting to the FSB. But he can only report what he knows, which is that men, arms, and equipment are being assembled for an operation. He or FSB could probably gather, based on the equipment list, that that operation will be in Africa. But since they don't know where, and since Russia has some interests in Africa, or thinks it does, they might want to stop us in case we are going to interfere with those interests. We need to assure them that this is not the case. Brazil doesn't know shit yet, I think. No," he corrected, "I'm sure they don't. But if they get a hint that an armed force of foreigners is being assembled on their soil they will certainly get difficult about it. And a surprise visit by Brazilian Marines would be a ‘bad thing,' marca registrada."
The last warning, at least, wasn't a surprise. Indeed, the force was taking some pains to ensure the Brazilians stayed in the dark. The management team for the plantation they'd bought on what Khalid thought was his behalf had been reduced in numbers and the remainder segregated far away-thirty five miles-from the base camp. The camp itself was now, under the sergeant major's tutelage, quite well hidden despite the numbers of tents they'd set up. Supplies and personnel were to come in mostly by air from another country. And the trees were being cut in irregular patterns that tended to disguise the appearance of the field. And the really "dangerous" equipment would be offloaded to landing craft before the ship carrying it even reached Manaus.
"So you think we should bring both the Russians and the United States in on this?" Stauer shook his head. "The idea fills me with dread."
"Yes and no," Boxer said. "I think we should tell them slightly different stories . . . and slightly false ones. I'd like your permission to pass on to the United States Department of State that this is a Russian supported anti-piracy mission. They've had some problems with pirates in the area and so our folks shouldn't balk over that. We tell the Russians more of the truth, that this is a hostage rescue mission. If we have to be more honest about it, we can tell the Russkis just how we intend to rescue the hostage. All things considered, they'll approve. The United States would not."
Stauer considered this, then said, "You can talk to the Russians, since they've already got reason for suspicion. Arrange to take Victor with you. Not a word to State. When do you think you should go?"
"Probably in about five or six weeks," Ralph replied, accepting with good grace that Stauer had only taken his advice in part.
"Fair enough. Now who else is reporting to whom?" Stauer asked.
"None that I know of yet," Boxer replied. "But, once we get people here I'd like your permission to set up a cell under Bridges expressly to monitor any sat-phone traffic."
"Done," Stauer agreed. "And while it's not your bailiwick, what do you think of Victor's proposal to send us a couple of trainers cum mechanics with the armored cars?"
"From a training aspect I wouldn't have an opinion," Boxer said. "Not my thing. From an intel point of view, more expressly a counter-intel point of view, I don't think it will matter. After all, you're not announcing where we're going until we're all aboard ship and at sea. By then I can confiscate all the phones."
"Speaking of communications devices," Stauer asked, "do we have commo up with The Drunken Bastard?"
"We do," Ralph answered. "They've got a man aboard the Galloway. They'll be striking tonight or tomorrow."
"Think the boy will be aboard?"
"Almost no chance or I wouldn't have recommended we go ahead. But we ought to be able to find out where they dropped him off."
Stauer nodded. "Yeah. Might be worth something." Stauer changed subjects. "What do you think about this proposal to replace the 90mm with that high velocity 60mm?"
"I wouldn't do it now."
"Why?"
"We'll have the anti-tank guided missile Ferrets if there is any armor we have to worry about. And even if there is, there won't be much. We need the larger shell of the 90s to take care of technicals, buildings, fortifications, groups of infantry. Also, I checked. Nobody's ever mounted a gun that powerful in an Eland before and used it operationally. Hate to be the ones to discover that it deranges the turret."
"Point," Stauer agreed.
"And the two South Africans Victor wants to inflict on us won't know anything about the 60."
"Also a point."
D-107, near Tempe Base, Bloemfontein, South Africa
It was evening over South Africa by the time Victor had his answer. With evening, the rats came out. From their table by a window in a small, moderately upscale restaurant the three, Boer, Bantu, and Russian, could watch the rats as they emerged. Streets quiet in the day became quite lively by night.