Power Of The Sword Part 49

Almost three thousand altogether, we are working three shifts now. Wartime production. The manager took them through to the furthest building.

This is where we turn out the small arms, he shouted.

Or rather the metal parts. Barrel and blocks. The woodwork is manufactured by outside contractors. Show us the finished articles and the packing, Blaine ordered. That's where the trouble is, if there is trouble. After a.s.sembly and checking, the completed rifles, British Long Service No 4 Mark 1 in .303 calibre, were greased and wrapped in yellow grease-proof paper, then packed in the long WD green wooden cases, ten rifles to a case. Finally the cases were loaded onto steel pallets and trundled through to the despatch stores.

When they entered the despatch area there were a dozen uniformed police constables working with at least fifty factory employees in blue overalls. Each case was being taken down from the tall stacks and opened by one of the constables, then the wrapped rifles were taken out and counted, repacked and the case lids relocked.

The checked cases were being stacked at the far end of the storehouse, and Shasa saw immediately that only about fifty cases remained to be opened and inspected.

The chief storekeeper hurried across from his desk and challenged Blaine indignantly. I don't know who you are but if you are the b.l.o.o.d.y fool who ordered this, you need your a.r.s.e kicked. We have lost a day's production. There is a goods train at the siding and a convoy waiting in Durban harbour to take these weapons to our boys up north. Shasa left the group and went across to watch the working constables. 'No luck? he asked one of them.

We're wasting our time, the man grunted without looking up, and Shasa silently reviled himself. A day's war production lost because of him, it was a dire responsibility and his sense of despondency increased as he stood and watched the remaining cases opened, checked and resealed.

The constables a.s.sembled at the door of the stores and the overalled factory employees went out through the tall sliding doors to resume their posts on the production line.

The police inspector came back to where they stood in a small disconsolate group.

Nothing, Minister. I'm sorry. We had to do it, Blaine said, glancing at Shasa. n.o.body is to blame. Too b.l.o.o.d.y true somebody is to blame, the chief storeman broke in truculently. Now that you've had your fun, can I get on with loading the rest of the shipment? Shasa stared at him. There was something about the man's behaviour that set off a little warning tingle down his spine, the bl.u.s.tering defensive manner, the shiftiness of his gaze.

Of course, he thought. If there was a switch, this is where it would take place, and this fellow would be in it to his neck. His mind was starting to slough off the inertia of disappointment and anti-climax.

All right, Blaine agreed. It was a wild-goose chase. You can get on with your work. Hold on, sir, Shasa intervened quietly, and he turned back to the storeman. How many railway trucks have you loaded already? There it was again, the shift of the man's eyes, the slight hesitation. He was going to lie. Then he glanced involuntarily at the sheaf of papers in the clipboard that lay on his desk beside the doors that led out onto the loading bays.

Shasa crossed quickly to the desk and picked up the sheaf of loading manifests. Three trucks have already been loaded, he read from the manifest. Which are they? They have been shunted away, the storeman muttered sulkily.

Then let's have them shunted back here right away, Blaine intervened briskly.

Blaine and Shasa stood together under the arc lamps on the concrete loading quay while the first of the closed railway goods trucks was unlocked and the sliding door opened.

The interior of the truck was loaded to the roof with green rifle cases.

if they are here, they will be at the bottom of the load, Shasa suggested. Whoever is responsible would get rid of the evidence as soon as possible. He'd make d.a.m.ned sure they were the first cases loaded. Get down to the bottom cases, Blaine ordered sharply, and the top cases were carried out and stacked on the quay.

Right! Blaine pointed to the back of the truck. Get that case out and open it. The lid came up and the constable let it fall to the concrete floor with a clatter.

Sir! he exclaimed. Look at this. Blaine stepped up beside him and stared down into the open box, and then he looked up again quickly.

The chief storekeeper was hurrying across the floor of the shed towards the doors at the far end.

Arrest that man! Blaine shouted urgently, and two constables ran forward and seized him. He was struggling angrily as they dragged him out onto the loading quay.

Blaine turned to Shasa, his expression grim and his eyes flinty. 'Well, my boy, I hope you are satisfied. You've given us a mountain of work and a lot of sleepless nights ahead, he said.

Fifteen grave men sat around the long polished stinkwood table in the panelled cabinet office and listened silently as Blaine malcomess made his report.

There is no way of establishing with any certainty exactly how many weapons are missing. other large shipments have been sent out since the first of the month and as yet neither of these has reached its destination in Cairo. They are still in transit but we must expect that weapons are missing from both shipments. I estimate some two thousand rifles together with a million and a half rounds of ammunition. The men around the table stirred uneasily, but n.o.body spoke.

This is alarming, of course. However, the truly disturbing aspect of the business is the theft of some thirty to fifty Vickers machine-guns from the same source. This is incredible, Deneys Reitz muttered. That is enough to launch a nationwide rebellion. it could be 1914 all over again. We must make sure no word of this gets out.

It will cause panic. We should also consider, Blaine went on, 'the tons of explosives hijacked in the karoo. Those would almost certainly be used to disrupt communications and prevent deployment of our limited military strength. If there was to be a rebellion Please tell us, Blaine, the prime minister held up a finger.

Firstly, do we have any indication of when we can expect them to come out into the open and attempt their coup d'dtat? No, Prime Minister. The best I can do is an estimate based on our probable discovery of the weapons theft. They must have realized that the theft would be discovered as soon as the first consignment reached Cairo, and almost certainly they plan to move before that time. When would the shipment have reached Cairo? Two weeks from now approximately. So we must expect that they will make the attempt within days, rather than weeks? I'm afraid so, Prime Minister. My next question, Blaine. How complete is your investigation? Do you have a full list of the ringleaders of the OB and the stormjagers? Not a full list, we have only about six hundred names so far. I think it includes almost all their key men, but, of course, we can't have any way of being sure of that. Thank you, Blaine. The prime minister tugged thoughtfully at his small silver goatee beard. His expression was almost serene, his blue eyes calm and unworried. They all waited for him to speak again.

How sensitive are the names on the list? he asked.

There is the administrator of the Orange Free State. Yes, we know about him. ,Welve members of Parliament, including one former cabinet minister. Parliamentary privilege, Field-Marshal s.m.u.ts murmured.

We can't touch them. Then there are church leaders, at least four high-ranking army officers, top civil servants, one a.s.sistant police commissioner. Blaine read the list through, and by the time he had finished, the prime minister had already made up his mind.

We can't afford to wait, he said. With the exception of the members of parliament, I want detention and internment orders prepared for all the others on the list of suspects. I'll sign them as soon as they are drafted. in the meantime I want you to plan the simultaneous arrests of all of them, and make provision for their incarceration. 'There are the concentration camps built for Italian prisoners of war at Baviaanspoort and Pietermaritzburg, Blaine pointed out.

Good, Field-Marshal s.m.u.ts agreed. I want these men all safely behind barbed-wire as soon as possible. And I want the missing weapons and explosives found, and found quickly. We cannot afford to wait! Manfred De La Rey said carefully.

Every hour is dangerous, every day brings us closer to the brink, a week could spell disaster. We are not ready. We need time, one of the other men in the first-cla.s.s railway compartment cut in. There were eight men, including Manfred, in the compartment. They had boarded the southbound express separately at different stops over the last two hundred miles. The conductor of the train was a sympathizer, and there were stormiagters in the corridors outside the compartment, acting as sentries. n.o.body could reach them or eavesdrop on their conversation.

You promised us another ten days in which to complete the final preparations. We haven't got ten days, man. Haven't you listened to what I am telling you? It can't be done, the man repeated stubbornly.

It can be done, Manfred raised his voice. It has to be done! The administrator intervened sternly. Enough of that, gentlemen. Let's keep the fighting for our enemies. With an obvious effort Manfred moderated his tone. I apologize for my outburst. However, I repeat that we have no time to spare. The removal of the weapons from the railway workshops has been discovered, ten of our men there have been arrested. One of our men at Marshall Square has told us that they have received detention orders for over two hundred of our senior members and that these are to be served on Sunday, that is four days from now., We are aware of all that, the administrator intervened again. What we must do now is decide whether we can afford to put the entire plan forward, or if it should be abandoned. I will listen to each of your opinions and then we will vote. We shall stand by the majority decision. Let us hear first from Brigadier Koopman. They all looked to the army general. He was in civilian clothing but his military bearing was unmistakable. He spread a large-scale map on the fold-down table, and used it to ill.u.s.trate his report in a professionally dispa.s.sionate voice. First he set out the order of battle of the army, and the dispositions of the troops, aircraft and armoured cars that remained in the country and then went on, So you see that the two main troop concentrations are at the infantry training barracks at Roberts Heights and at Durban awaiting shipment for overseas duty. With almost one hundred and sixty thousand outside the country, these do not amount to more than five thousand men. There are no modern aircraft, other than the fifty Harvard trainers. This makes it feasible to immobilize the troops at their present positions at least for the first few crucial days that it will take to seize control. This can be achieved by destroying all major road and railway bridges, particularly those over the Vaal river, the Orange river and the Umzindusi river. He went on talking for another ten minutes, and then summed up, We have our men placed in positions of command, right up to the general staff, and they will be able to cushion us from any forthright action by the army. After that they will arrest and hold the s.m.u.ts men on the general staff and bring the army in on our side to support the new republican government. One after another the other men present made their reports. Manfred was last to speak.

Gentlemen, he began. Within the last twelve hours I have been in direct radio contact with the German Abwehr through their representative in Portuguese Angola. He has relayed to us the a.s.surances of the German High Command and of the Fuhrer himself. The German submarine supply vessel Altmark is at present within three hundred nautical miles of Cape Town carrying over five hundred tons of armaments. She awaits only the signal to steam to our aid. He spoke quietly but persuasively, and he sensed the mood swing in his favour.

When he finished there was a short but profound silence and then the administrator said, We have all the facts before us now. We must make the decision. It is this. Before the government can arrest and imprison us and the other legitimate leaders of the Volk, we put into effect the plan. We rise and depose the present government and take the power into our own hands to put our nation back on the course to freedom and justice. I will ask each of you in turn, do you say "Yes" or do you say "No? Ja, said the first man.

Ek stern ja. I say yes. Ek stern ook ja, I also say yes. At the end the administrator summed up for them. We are all agreed, there is not one of us against the enterprise!

He paused and looked at Manfred De La Rey. You have told us of a signal to launch the rising. Something that will turn the country on its head. Can you tell us now what that signal will be? The signal will be the a.s.sa.s.sination of the traitor Jan Christian s.m.u.ts, Manfred said.

They stared at him in silence. It was clear that even though they had antic.i.p.ated something momentous, none of them had expected this.

The details of this political execution have been carefully planned, Manfred went on to a.s.sure them. Three different contingency plans were drawn up in Berlin, each for a different date, depending on the dictates of circ.u.mstances. The first plan, the earliest date, suits our present purpose exactly.

s.m.u.ts will be executed this coming Sat.u.r.day. Three days from now - the day before the detention orders are served on our leaders. The silence drew out a minute longer, then the administrator asked, Where?

How will it be done? You do not need to know that. I will do what is necessary, alone and unaided. It will be up to you to act quickly and forcibly as soon as the news of s.m.u.ts death is released. You must step into the void he leaves and seize the reins of power., Let it be so, said the administrator quietly. We will be ready for the moment when it comes, and may G.o.d bless our battle. Of the eight men in the compartment, only Manfred remained aboard when the express pulled out of Bloemfontein station and began its long run southwards towards Cape Town.

I have a permit to keep a firearm on the estate, Sakkie Van Vuuren, the winery manager, told Manfred. We use it to shoot the baboons that come down from the mountains to raid the vineyards and orchards. He led the way down the steps into the cool gloom of the cellars.

Anybody who hears a few shots coming from the mountains will take no notice of them, but if you are challenged, tell them you are employed by the estate and refer them to me. He opened the false front of the wine cask and stood aside as Manfred opened one of the waterproof canisters.

First he lifted out the radio transmitter and connected the new batteries which Van Vuuren had procured for him. The radio was fitted into a canvas rucksack and was readily portable.

He opened the second canister and brought out the rifle case. In it was a sniper's model 98 Mauser, with that superb action which permitted such high breech pressure levels that the velocity of the 173 grain bullet could be pushed UP over 2500 feet per second. There were fifty rounds of the 7-57 mm ammunition which had been specially hand-loaded by one of the expert technicians at Deutsche Waffen und munitionsfabrik, and the telescopic sight was by Zeiss. Manfred fitted the telescopic sight to the rifle and filled the magazine. The rest of the ammunition he repacked and then stowed the canisters away in the false-fronted cask.

Van Vuuren drove him up into one of the valleys of the Hottentots Holland mountains in his battered old Ford half tonner, and when the track at last petered out, he drove back down the rocky winding trail.

and left him there an Manfred watched him out of sight and then hefted his pack and rifle and began to climb upwards. He had plenty of time, there was no need to hurry, but the hard physical exertion gave him pleasure and he went up with long elastic strides, revelling in the flood of sweat on his face and body.

He crossed the first range of the foothills, went down into the wooded valley and then climbed again to one of the main peaks beyond. Near the crest he stopped and set up the radio, stringing his aerials from the tops of two cripplewood trees and orientating them carefully towards the north.

Then he settled down with his back to a boulder and ate the sandwiches that little Sarah had made for him. The contact time with the Abwehr agent in Luanda, the capitol of Portuguese Angola, 1500 hours Greenwich Mean Time, and he had almost an hour to wait.

After he had eaten he took the Mauser in his lap and handled it lovingly, refamiliarizing himself with the weapoWs feel and balance, working the bolt action, bringing the b.u.t.t to his shoulder and sighting through the lens of the telescope at objects down the slope.

in Germany he had practised endlessly with this same rifle, and he knew that at any range up to three hundred metres he could choose in which eye he would shoot a man.

However, it was essential that he check the rifle to make absolutely certain that the sights were still true. He needed a target as close to that of a human form as possible, but he could find nothing suitable from where he sat. He laid the rifle carefully aside, checked his wrist.w.a.tch and transferred his attention to the radio.

He set up the Morse key and turned to the page of his notebook on which he had already reduced the message to code. He flexed his fingers and began to send, tapping the bra.s.s key with a fluid rapid movement, aware that the operator at Luanda far in the north would recognize his style and would accept that rather than his code name as proof of his ident.i.ty.

Eagle Base, this is White Sword. On the fourth call he was answered. The signal in his headphones was strong and clear.

Go ahead, White Sword!

Confirm plan one in force. Repeat plan one.

Acknowledge. There was no need for a long message that could increase the chances of being traced or intercepted. Everything had been arranged with Teutonic attention to detail before he left Berlin.

Understand plan one. Good luck. Over and out from Eagle Base. 'Over and out White Sword!

He rolled the aerial wires, repacked the transmitter, and was about to swing it on his shoulder when an explosive barking cough echoed along the cliffs and Manfred sank down flat behind the rock and reached for the Mauser. The wind favoured him and he settled down to wait.

He lay for almost half an hour without moving, still and intent, scanning the valley floor below, before he saw the first movement amongst the jumbled lichen-covered rocks and stunted protea bushes.

The baboons were moving in their usual foraging order, with half a dozen young males in the van, the females and young in the centre, and three huge grey patriarchal males in the rear guard. The infants were slung upside down below their mothers bellies, clinging with tiny paws to the thick coa.r.s.e belly fur and peering out with pink hairless faces.

The larger youngsters rode like jockeys perched on the backs of their dams. The three fighting bulls at the rear of the troop followed them, swaggering arrogantly, knuckling the ground as they moved forward on four legs, their heads held high, almost doglike, their muzzles long and pointed, their eyes close-set and bright.

Manfred chose the largest of the three apes and watched him through the lens of the sight. He let him come on up the slope until he was only three hundred metres from where he lay.

The bull baboon suddenly loped forward and with an agile bound reached the top of a grey boulder the size of a small cottage. He sat there, perched on his hindquarters, resting his elbows on his knees, almost human in his pose, and he opened his jaws in a cavernous yawn. His fangs were pointed and yellow and as long as a man's forefinger.

Carefully Manfred took up the slack in the rear trigger until he felt the hair trigger engage with an almost inaudible click, then he settled the cross hairs of the telescopic sight on the baboon's forehead, and held his aim for the hundredth part of a second. He touched the front trigger, while he still concentrated fixedly on the baboon's sloping furry forehead and the rifle slammed back into his shoulder. The shot crashed out across the valley. The echoes rang back from the cliffs in a descending roll of thunder.

The bull baboon somersaulted backwards from his seat on the boulder, and the rest of the troop fled back down the slope in screaming panic.

Manfred stood up, hoisted the pack onto his shoulders and picked his way down the slope. He found the ape's carca.s.s huddled at the base of the rock. It still twitched and quivered in reflex but the top of the animal's skull was missing. It had been cut away as though by an axe stroke at the level of the eyes and bright blood welled up through the base of the brain pan and dribbled over the rocks.

Manfred rolled the carca.s.s over with his foot and nodded with satisfaction. The special hollow-tipped bullet would decapitate a man just as neatly, and the rifle had held true to within a finger's breadth at three hundred metres.

Now I am ready as I will ever be, Manfred murmured and went down the mountain.

Shasa had not been home to Weltevreden, nor had he seen Tara since he and Blaine had flown home from Pretoria in the Rapide after the discovery of the stolen weapons.

He had not left CID headquarters during that time. He ate at the police canteen and s.n.a.t.c.hed a few hours, sleep in the dormitory that had been set up on the floor above the operations room. The rest of the time he had been engrossed entirely in the preparations for the planned police swoop.

There were almost a hundred and fifty suspects to be dealt with in Cape Province alone, and for each the warrant had to be drawn, the expected whereabouts of subjects charted, and police officers delegated to make each separate arrest.

Sunday had been selected deliberately for almost all of the subjects were devout Calvinists, members of the Dutch Reformed Church, and would attend divine service that morning. Their whereabouts could be antic.i.p.ated with a high degree of certainty and they would in all probability be unsuspecting, in a religious frame of mind, and not in the mood to offer any resistance to the arresting officers.

It was midday Friday before Shasa remembered that his grandfather's birthday picnic was the following day and he rang Centaine at Weltevreden from the police operations room.

,oh cheri, that is terrible news, Sir Garry will be so disappointed. He has asked for you every day since he arrived and we are all so looking forward to seeing you. I'm sorry, Mater. Can't you get away to join us, even for an hour? That's just not possible.

Believe me, Mater, I am as disappointed as anyone. You don't have to come up the mountain, Shasa. just drink a gla.s.s of champagne with us at Weltevreden before we leave. You can go back immediately and do whatever it is you are doing that is so important. For my sake, cheri, won't you try? She sensed that he was wavering. Blaine and Field-Marshal s.m.u.ts will be here. They have both promised. If you come at eight o'clock, just to wish your grandfather a happy birthday, I promise you can leave again before eight-thirty. O all right mater, he capitulated, and grinned into the telephone. 'Don't you find it boring always to get your own way?, It is something I have learned to bear, cheri, she laughed back at him. Until tomorrow. ,Until tomorrow, he agreed.

I love you, cheri. I love you too, Mater. He hung up, feeling guilty at having given in to her, and was about to ring Tara to tell her that he wouldn't be able to escort her to the picnic when one of the sergeants across the room called him.

Squadron Leader Courtney, this call is for you. Who is it? 'She didn't say, it's a woman, and Shasa smiled as he crossed the room.

Tara had antic.i.p.ated him and called him first.

h.e.l.lo, is that you Tara? he said into the mouthpiece, and there was silence except for the soft sound of somebody breathing nervously. His nerves snapped tight, and he lowered his voice, trying to make it friendly and encouraging as he switched into Afrikaans.

This is Squadron Leader Courtney speaking. Is that the lady I spoke to before? Ja. It is me. He recognized her voice, young, breathless and afraid.

I am very grateful to you. What you have done has saved many lives, the lives of innocent people. I saw nothing about the guns in the newspapers, the woman whispered.

You can be proud of what you have done, he told her, and then on inspiration added, Many people would have died, perhaps even women and little children. The words little children seemed to decide her and she blurted out, There is still great danger. They are planning something terrible, White Sword is going to do something.

Soon, very soon. I heard him say that it will be the signal, and it will turn the nation on its head-, Can you tell me what it is? Shasa asked, trying not to frighten her, keeping his voice low and rea.s.suring. What is this thing he plans? I don't know. I only know it will be very soon. Can you find out what it is? I don't know, I can try. For the sake of everybody, the women and little children, will you try to find out what it is? Yes, I will try. I will be here at this telephone- then suddenly he remembered his promise to Centaine, or at this other number, and he gave her the number at Weltevreden. Try here first, and the other number if I am not here. 'I understand., Can you tell me who White Sword is? He took a calculated risk. Do you know his real name? Immediately the connection crackled and was broken. She had hung up. He lowered the telephone and stared at it. He sensed that he had frightened her off for good with that last question, and dismay overwhelmed him.

Something that will turn the nation on its head. Her words haunted him, and he was filled with an ominous sense of impending disaster.

Manfred drove sedately along the De Waal Drive past the university buildings. it was past midnight, and the streets were almost deserted except for a few Friday-night revellers wending their unsteady way homeward. The car he was driving was a nondescript little Morris and the rifle was in the boot under a tattered piece of tarpaulin. He was dressed in a railwayman's blue overalls over which he wore a thick fisherman's jersey and a heavy greatcoat.

He was moving into position now to avoid the danger of being seen on the mountain during daylight carrying a rifle.

favoured On a weekend the slopes of Table Mountain were by hikers and rock climbers, birdwatchers and picnickers, boy scouts and lovers.

He pa.s.sed the forestry station and turned into Rhodes Avenue, then followed the road up past the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens with the bulk of the mountain blotting out half the starry night sky. The road wound around the bottom slopes through the dark forests. Before he reached the Constantia Nek pa.s.s he slowed down, and checked in his rearview mirror to make certain there was no vehicle following him. Then he switched off his headlights and turned off sharply onto the forestry track.

He drove at a walking pace, keeping in low gear until he reached the forestry gate. Then he stopped and, leaving the engine idling, went to the gate and tried his key in the lock.

Roelf had given him the key and a.s.sured him that the forester was a friend. it turned easily, and Manfred drove the Morris through and closed the gate behind him. He hooked the staple of the padlock through the chain, but did not lock it.

He was on the bottom stretch of the bridle path now and drove on up the narrow track as it ascended the slope in a series of tight hairpins. He pa.s.sed the contour path that girdled the mountain three hundred metres above sea level.

A mile further on, just below the summit he reversed the Morris off the bridle path so that it was out of sight of a casual hiker. From the boot he took the Mauser and wrapped it carefully in a light tarpaulin. Then he locked the doors of the Morris and went back down towards the contour path carrying the rifle across his shoulder. He used his flashlight as little as possible and then only for quick glimpses of the pathway, shielding the beam with his body.

Within twenty minutes he intercepted the pathway that climbed directly up Skeleton Gorge and he flashed his light onto the square concrete signpost and read the legend printed on it.

s.m.u.tS TRACK.

The concrete block resembled a tombstone rather than a signpost, and he smiled grimly at the appropriateness of the name upon it. The old field-marshal had made this ascent the most famous of all routes to the summit.

Manfred climbed quickly, without resting, 1200 feet up Skeleton Gorge until he came up past Breakfast Rock over the crest, onto the tableland. Here he paused for a moment to look back. Far below him the Constantia valley huddled in the night, lit by only a star dusting of lights. He turned his back upon it and began his final preparations. He had scouted the site two days previously, and he had chosen the stance from which he would fire and paced out the exact range from there to the point on the pathway where a man would become visible as he came out onto the summit.

Now he moved into his stance. It was a hollow between two boulders, lightly screened by mountain scrub. He spread the tarpaulin over the low wiry bracken and then lay full length upon it, flattening the plants into a comfortable mattress under him.