robbery. He did not know his name, or where we could find him. Did he give you a description? Yes. Big man, black hair and beard, crooked nose, scar over one eye, a pretty detailed description, but he gave us some thing else which may be vital. What is that? A code name. The leader is known only as Die Wit Swaard, the White Sword, and they were ordered to cooperate with him from the very top level of the stormjagers!
White Sword, Blaine mused. Sounds like something out of Boys Own Paper. Unfortunately not so childish, Shasa went on. I impressed upon the inspector in charge that the code name and the description must be withheld until he had orders from you personally. 'Good. Blaine sipped his drink, pleased that his trust in Shasa Courtney had been so soon vindicated. White Sword, I wonder if this is the trigger we have been looking for, the catalyst that has at last brought the O B to the point of action. It could very well be, sir. All the arrested members of the gang are obviously very much in awe of the man. He was clearly the force behind the entire thing, and he has disappeared completely. There is no trace of the missing money, incidentally, we have established that it is over one hundred and twenty-seven thousand I pounds., A tidy sum, Blaine murmured, and we must presume that it has gone into the war chest of the O B, probably along with the gelignite from the railway hijacking., As far as this code name goes, sir, I would like to suggest that we continue to keep it from the press and everybody not directly concerned with the investigation. I agree. However, let me hear your reasons, see if they are the same as mine. Firstly, we don't want to alert the quarry. We don't want him to know that we are on his track. Blaine nodded. Quite so. The other reason is that it will confirm the reliability of any informant who uses the code name. I don't follow you, Blaine frowned.
Your appeal to the public for assistance has resulted in a flood of telephone calls, but unfortunately most of them are bogus. if we let the code name become general knowledge, they'll all be using it. ,I see. Use of the code name will establish the callers credentials. 'That's it, sir. All right then, we'll keep it under the hat for the time being. Is there anything else? Not at present. Then let me tell you what has happened here while you were away. I have met the prime minister and we have decided to declare the O B a political organization. All civil servants, including the police and the army, will be obliged to resign their membership immediately. That won't alter their sympathies, Shasa pointed out.
Of course not, Blaine agreed. We will still have something like forty or fifty percent of the country against us and for Nazi Germany. It can't go on like this, sir. You and the Ou Baas will have to force a showdown. Yes, we know that. As soon as our investigations are complete, as soon as we have a pretty comprehensive fist of the ringleaders, we will swoop. Arrest them? Shasa was startled.
Yes. They will be interned for the duration of the war as enemies of the state. Shasa whistled softly. Pretty drastic, sir. That could lead to real trouble., That is why we have to scoop them all up in the net at one time, we cannot afford to miss any of them. Blaine stood up. I can see you are exhausted, Shasa, and I am sure there are a few things that Mademoiselle Tara has to say to
you. I'll expect you at my office at eight-thirty sharp tomorrow
morning. They moved to the study door and Blaine added as an afterthought, By the way, your grandfather, Sir Garry, arrived at Weltevreden this morning., He has come down for his birthday, Shasa smiled. I look forward to seeing him. I hope you and Field Marshal Smuts will be coming to the birthday picnic as usual., Wouldn't miss it for the world! Blaine opened the study door and across the lobby Tara was hovering innocently, pretending to be selecting a book from the shelves in the library.
Blaine grinned, Tara, you let Shasa get some sleep tonight, do you hear me? I refuse to work with a zombie tomorrow. The meeting in Blaine's office the following morning lasted longer than either of them expected, and later moved down the passageway to the prime minister's office where Field Marshal Smuts personally questioned Shasa. His questions were so searching that Shasa felt drained by the effort of keeping pace with the Ou Baas mercurial mind. He escaped with relief, Smuts's admonition following him.
We want this fellow "White Sword" whoever he is, and we want him before he can do any more damage. Get that message across to everybody involved. Yes, sir. And I want those lists on my desk before the weekend.
We must have these fellows locked up and out of harm's way.
It was mid-morning before Shasa arrived at CID headquarters and parked the Jaguar in the reserved bay that had been set aside for him in.
The special operations room had been set up in one of the extensive basement areas. There was a constable on duty at the door and Shasa signed the register. Entry was restricted to persons on the list. Many of the police force were known OB members, or sympathizers.
Inspector Louis Nel had chosen his team with extreme care.
He was a balding, taciturn man whose age and job classification had prevented him from volunteering for overseas military service, a fact that he bitterly resented. However, Shasa had soon discovered that he was an easy man to like and respect, though a difficult one to please. They had quickly established a working rapport.
Nel was in his shirt-sleeves, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he talked into the telephone, but he covered the mouthpiece and summoned Shasa with an imperious wave.
Where the hell have you been? I was going to send out a search party, he reprimanded him. Sit down. I want to talk to you. Shasa perched on the corner of his desk while the inspector continued his telephone call, and he stared through the window into the busy operations room. Inspector Nel had been allocated eight detectives and a bevy of female stenographers. The room was full of cigarette smoke and the clatter of typewriters as they worked. One of the other telephones on the inspector's desk rang, and he glanced up at Shasa. 'Take that, damned switchboard keeps putting everything through to me. Shasa picked up the receiver. Good morning, this is CID headquarters. May I help you? he said, and when there was silence, he repeated it in Afrikaans.
Hello, I want to talk to somebody, the caller was a woman, a young woman and very agitated, she was speaking Afrikaans, and her voice was breathless and uncertain. In the paper they said you wanted to know about the Ossewa Brandwag. I want to talk to somebody. My name is Courtney, Shasa said in Afrikaans. Squadron-Leader Courtney. I am grateful that you want to assist the police. You can tell me everything. He tried to make his voice warm and reassuring. He could sense that the woman was afraid, perhaps on the point of changing her mind and ringing off. Take your time. I'm here to listen to you.$ ',Are you the police? Yes, madam. Would you like to give me your name? No! I won't tell you- He realized his mistake. That's perfectly all right. you don't have to give your name, he told her quickly, and there was a long silence. He could hear her breathing.
Take your time, he repeated gently. You just tell me what you want to. They are stealing the guns. The woman's voice sank to a whisper.
Can you tell me what guns? Shasa asked carefully.
From the gun factory in Pretoria, the railway workshop. Shasa sat up straighter and held the telephone receiver with both hands. Almost all the military arms and munitions manufacture was being undertaken in the railway workshops in Pretoria. It was the only establishment with the heavy equipment, highspeed lathes and steam presses, capable of turning out barrels and blocks for rifles and machineguns. The cartridge cases for the munitions were being stamped out at the Pretoria Mint, but they were despatched to the railway workshops for final processing.