Larry Bond - Vortex

Van der Heijden’s in his office.”

The other man nodded.

“You got it. Collins! Take your guys and go with the kommandant.”

De Wet stared from one to the other. A colonel? In sergeant’s clothing?

And an American colonel, too, from his accent. He swallowed hard against a sudden urge to vomit.

Two soldiers hauled Vorster to his feet and held him there, ashen faced and shaking. South Africa’s President had gone from absolute ruler to abject, broken prisoner in seconds.

PRIVATE OFFICE, MINISTER OF LAW AND ORDER

Marius van der Heijden wasn’t surprised when the door to his outer office broke open. He’d heard the sound of automatic weapons fire echoing through the Union Buildings for several minutes. Attempts to get through to either the Ministry of Defense or to his own security forces had proved useless.

Whoever was attacking them had collaborators inside Pretoria-collaborators who’d been able to cut off phone service.

Any attempt to escape seemed likely to prove equally futile. He could see several bodies scattered in the gardens below his window. Van der Heijden looked down at his own short legs and prominent belly and smiled grimly.

No, he wouldn’t get far trying to run away.

Which left one honorable option open to him. Just one. And that was why he waited behind his desk holding a loaded Browning Hi Power pistol.

Waited for someone to appear in the open doorway.

“Marius?”

The voice took him by surprise. Kruger? Henrik Kruger? He shook his head.

It hardly seemed possible. He stayed silent.

“Marius, I’m coming in. I don’t want to hurt you, so I ask you, don’t do anything foolish. Right?”

Van der Heijden found his voice.

“Come ahead, Henrik. But slowly, you understand?”

Kruger eased around the doorjamb, holding an assault rifle in both hands.

There were other men in the doorway behind him.

“I have come to take you prisoner, Marius.”

, , A prisoner? For which side?” Van der Heijden kept his pistol out of sight, below the desk.

Kruger smiled sadly.

“For the Americans and the British, my old friend.

And for those who have rebelled against this unlawful government. “You have fallen far, Henrik. You keep strange company for an Afrikaner of the old blood.”

“Maybe.” Kruger kept his rifle pointed toward the floor.

“I have seen your daughter, Marius.”

Van der Heijden kept his face rigid. He’d heard the American propaganda broadcasts and secretly praised God for his daughter’s safe deliverance.

Of course, he’d cursed her very name publicly to avert Vorster’s suspicions.

“She is well?”

“Yes .. Kruger seemed about to say more and then stopped himself.

“Surrender to me now and you will see that for yourself.”

For a brief moment, van der Heijden relaxed his grip on the pistol. It seemed a priceless gift. To see his daughter again, despite all the hurtful words and deeds that had passed between them … He straightened up in his chair. He could not surrender. As a prisoner, his name would always come before hers. She would never escape the shame of it. No, it was better by far to lie buried and forgotten.

Marius van der Heijden looked up from his desk with a sad, worn expression on his face.

“I am sorry, Henrik, but I cannot. You understand?”

Kruger nodded slowly, his own face somber and suddenly much older than his years would warrant.

“I understand.”

” And you will tell her that I Van der Heijden choked on the words.

” Yes. I I

“Thank you, my friend.” South Africa’s minister for law and order raised the Browning Hi Power and slowly aimed it at Kruger’s chest.

“Then I tell you I refuse to surrender. “

Kruger stood motionless, his own weapon still aimed at the floor.

Van der Heijden sighed. Despite everything, it was clear that his old friend and hoped-for-son-in-law could not bring himself to kill a man he’d once respected. So be it, he thought, then we shall both die together.

Van der Heijden tightened his finger around the trigger… and felt himself knocked backward out of his chair by several sledgehammer blows.

For what seemed a long time he stared up at the ceiling, surprised that being shot wasn’t more painful. And then he died.

Henrik Kruger sighed and turned away from the old man’s corpse.

Beside him, Sgt. Asa Collins slowly lowered his assault rifle.

“I’m sorry,

Mr. Kruger. I really am. I didn’t want to kill him. But that guy would have shot you.”

Kruger nodded sadly.

“Don’t worry about it, Sergeant. This was what he wanted.”

QUANTUM STRIKE FORCE

Col. Robert O’Connell crouched low beside the ground-floor window. A radioman lay beside him, holding his radio’s antenna out the window. -X-ray

Tiger One, this is Quantum One. Touchdown. I say again, touchdown. Over.”

Touchdown was the code word indicating that they had successfully captured

Vorster and were ready for pickup. Whatever else happened, the order to poison the mines would never be given. O’Connell knew that the message would be flashed around the world at the speed of light. In less than a minute, Washington would get it and celebrating would begin.

Of course, O’Connell and his men still had to get out of Pretoria alive.

A voice crackled over the static-clogged channel.

“Roger that, Quantum

One. Pickup ETA is five minutes. Say status of LZ. Over.”

A sudden burst of machinegun fire hammered the window frame above them, spraying O’Connell with tiny bits of wood, granite, and marble. He clicked the mike button. LZ is hot, X-ray Tiger. Fucking hot. Hostiles in platoon strength hold the gardens approximately one five zero meters north. “

“Understood.” The voice faded and then came back on channel.

“Injuns en route. ETA three minutes.”

“Roger, out.” O’Connell tossed the mike to the radioman and belly-crawled away from the window back down the corridor. Kruger and

Pryce squatted near their prisoners.

“Any trouble here?”

“None.” Pryce flashed a quick smile.

“I told the bastards I’d kill the first one who so much as blinked wrong. They seem to know I meant it.”

O’Connell grinned back. He studied the row of dejected men sprawled on the marble floor. Except for Vorster, all had their hands tied with silver duct tape. And all of them had their mouths taped shut.

Lightweight, cheap, and convenient, he thought. South Africa’s whole wartime military and political leadership all wrapped up in one neat package.

More firing echoed down the hall. The Afrikaners outside were definitely getting restless.

He checked his watch. One minute left. He turned to the two men.

“Get ‘em on their feet and ready to go. We’ve got company coming anytime now.”

They nodded and started moving among the prisoners, hauling them roughly to their feet. Most still seemed to be in shock, Good. That would make them easier to handle on the ride back-always assuming any of them lived that long.

O’Connell moved back to the window. He could see several black specks on the horizon now, growing bigger as they drew closer to the Union

Buildings.

“Quantum One, this is Red Chief One. On station. Pop smoke to mark your position.”

No shit, O’Connell thought. Even in the building he could hear the clattering, eggbeater sound of several rotors closing fast. O’Connell readied one of his two colored-smoke grenades. He pulled the pin and lobbed the grenade through the open window out into the courtyard beyond.

Wisps of purple mist began wafting upward almost immediately.

“I have violet smoke, Quantum One.”