Larry Bond - Vortex

Fraser was speaking.

“General Craig, I must insist that your government has already recognized our government by our reception here. We welcome that recognition and ask only that you formalize it before we proceed with any military planning. “

Fraser had been insisting on the same thing for the past two hours, using fine points of international law, the Bible, and his own rhetorical skills to hammer his point home: the Cape Province was now an independent nation.

But Craig had other things he wanted-no, needed-to discuss: logistical support, communications, intelligence on the enemy forces. Fraser’s insistence on diplomatic recognition had come as a complete surprise.

There had been no indication to anyone that this would be on the agenda.

The politician wanted Craig’s assurances that any civil affairs personnel landed would act in accordance with Cape Province law. He wanted Craig’s promise that the U.S. consulate would be reopened soon as a full embassy, and he asked for the general’s agreement in principle on an aid and mutual defense treaty-all prior to landing any American or British troops.

Internally, Craig fumed. It was a stickup, plain and simple. His forces had to land at Cape Town, and quickly, if there was going to be anything left to save in South Africa. Instead, the Cape Town authorities seemed to be more concerned with assuring their own political survival.

Fraser wasn’t leaving much doubt about that.

“The Cape has always had a different cultural makeup and a different political philosophy from the rest of South Africa. We’ve no use for these stiff-necked Boers. And this is a historic opportunity to chart the course of our country. Free of outside control, free to develop as we want. I tell you, General, apartheid has already ended here.”

That might be true, Craig thought, but he wasn’t buying it. He’d seen the hard numbers during his Pentagon briefings. The Afrikaners had been working to fragment their population for years-the old divide-and-conquer rule. So it was natural that the Englishdescended Cape Towners should want to go

it alone. Facts didn’t take much notice of wishes, though. The provincial economies were too interdependent. South Africa’s separate pieces simply could not stand on their own.

Fraser’s quiet, impassioned, and utterly self-interested tirade went on and on.

So far, the two military officers, Taylor and Spier, had sat quietly and uncomfortably throughout the entire discussion. At one point, Craig asked

Taylor for his views.

Fraser had interrupted as the brigadier opened his mouth to speak.

“We have the full support of our military in this matter, General.”

Right. Craig remembered the fat briefcase that Spier had carried aboard under his arm. It lay on the table now, next to Taylor’s elbow, and he had to force himself to stop staring at it. Everything his men needed was in there, he was sure of it.

He was also sure these two soldiers were ready to talk business, but

Fraser wanted his deal first.

Craig cleared his throat.

“LA)ok, these are all points that you can iron out with our State Department later. Right now, I need to work with

Brigadier Taylor and his people, coordinating the military aspects of this operation.”

Fraser was obstinate.

“And I insist, General, that before you can help us you must state whom you are going to help-and to what end.”

Craig bristled. Deputy governor or not, who the hell did this guy think he was?

“And I am not empowered to recognize a foreign country, Mr.

Fraser.”

“But you already have, by receiving us in our official capacity. “

Aaarrggh. Craig unclenched his teeth long enough to spit out a quick,

“Excuse me, gentlemen. Back in a moment.” He left the wardroom for his own sea cabin. As he stepped into the passageway, his chief of staff,

Gen. George Skiles, intercepted him.

Skiles was an Army brigadier general, part of the “joint,” all-service staff Craig had inherited as part of his new post. A good administrator, he’d taken a lot of the paperwork load off Craig’s shoulders.

“Well?”

“I just got off the secure phone with the State Department. They say that they have almost no information on the “Independent Cape Government,” and that they have every confidence in your judgment. “

Nuts. Twentyfive years of micromanagement and the one time he needed them, the Foggy Bottom boys left him alone. He shook his head. Two things were certain. They’d show up again as soon as he worked out an acceptable deal. And if he screwed up, he’d hang alone.

“All right.” Craig walked down the passageway and entered his cabin. He thought for a few minutes, washed his face, took a deep breath, and summoned Skiles.

“Get Taylor out of the wardroom, by himself, and bring him up to the bridge wing. “

“Fraser won’t like you talking to him alone.”

Craig frowned.

“I don’t care. Tell Taylor he’s got a message from his wife. Think of something. Keep the good deputy governor busy. I won’t be long.”

Skiles nodded and left.

Craig climbed the two decks up to the bridge wing and waited, but not for long. Metallic footsteps clattering up the ladder preceded Taylor. The

South African joined him at the railing, his uniform tunic fluttering in the wind.

Taylor’s tone was stiffly formal.

“I came because you requested it, sir, but I will not negotiate with you separately. Mr. Fraser is our sole voice in these matters.”

Craig nodded quietly.

“I understand, Brigadier.”

“And even if I were to come to some sort of separate agreement, I would not have the power to impose it on the civilian authorities.”

“Is that true, Brigadier?” Craig asked.

“After all, you control Cape

Town’s military forces.”

“I will not use those forces to interfere with civil authority again.

“

Taylor’s tone softened.

“I am sure we share a certain dislike for politicians “-he smiled—but they hold the reins, and any other way leads to chaos.”

Craig matched his smile.

“I agree. But I asked you up here because I want you to understand my situation. To

give you information that only a military man can appreciate. “

Taylor arched an eyebrow.

Craig spoke carefully, picking his way through a verbal minefield. He wanted this man as an ally-not pointing a rifle from the other side of the beach.

“I have at my disposal an immense force-more than a division of embarked Marines, air, and artillery. At least two more divisions are at airfields in the States waiting for word that D. F. Malan airport is open. Those men can begin arriving within twenty-four hours of the time

I give that word.”

Taylor nodded. America’s rapid deployment capabilities were widely known.

“You also know we’re on a timetable-a tight one. And that timetable was drawn up in response to allied needs, not the needs of the “Independent

Cape Province’ or the rest of South Africa. We’re burning precious time right now.”

Again Taylor nodded. The Cubans were already hundreds of kilometers inside the Transvaal region. Unless Craig and his men got ashore soon,

Castro’s two remaining armored columns would reach Pretoria,

Johannesburg, and the Witwatersrand minerals complex well ahead of them.

Craig paused. Now for the hard part.

“I’ll be blunt, Brigadier. You know the strengths and abilities of your forces, and you’ve seen some of our capabilities. Now, I want your forces working with us, but if we can’t reach agreement soon, I’ll land my troops without your approval and proceed on my own. “

“We would have to fight you.”