Larry Bond - Vortex

Vega said, “Ask him what happened to Vorster. ” Vasquez translated the question.

Coetzee replied, “That is none of your business, but since it will soon be public knowledge, we can tell you that he is under arrest and will soon be indicted, under South African law, on several counts of murder.”

When this was translated, Vega’s cold chill now turned his heart into a block of ice. He could almost feel it in his throat. Vorster would never have made peace with the Americans. He was ready to destroy his country before he’d loosen his grip. If Vorster was really gone, then the

Americans and British had a free hand.

The American walked two steps forward, facing Vasquez. Weber said, “I’m not going to mince words. If your intelligence people are on the job at all, you know who I am.” Without thinking, Vasquez nodded.

Jerking his thumb back behind him, Weber said, “I’ve already deployed a full battalion of M-1 tanks in that town back there, and I’m bringing up another two battalions of one of my brigades sometime soon. I won’t tell you boys exactly when, but you can assume the worst.”

He leaned closer to Vasquez, so that they were almost nose to nose.

“The other two brigades will be along presently.” He pointed to the British officer.

“That gentlemen there also has some units he controls, and there are other officers that couldn’t make it to this little meeting. Vaquez noted in passing that the British officer wore a red beret, which could only mean that he commanded a battalion of paratroopers.

“In short, Colonel, you tell your general back there that instead of facing a divided South African Army, he faces the combined forces of

South Africa, Britain, and the United States.”

Vasquez started to translate, but Weber cut him off.

“And tell General

Vega that we are fresh as fucking daisies. I’ve been fighting South

Africans for a while, and I haven’t enjoyed it too much. Now that

Vorster’s been taken care of, I’d love to kick some Cuban ass.”

Vasquez, controlling his temper, transmitted a paraphrase of Weber’s speech to Vega, which even in summary caused him to drop his mask of detachment and take one step toward the American.

Coetzee said, “We offer you these terms: Withdraw from South African territory immediately, using the same routes you came in on. You will be escorted along the entire route, but not molested. Once you have returned to Mozambique

and Zimbabwe, you will evacuate all national forces. On the Namibian front, we will institute an immediate cease-fire, followed by a mutual phased withdrawal with the purpose of restoring Namibian sovereignty.

“You have two hours to organize your forces and begin the retreat. If we have not seen you comply with our terms at the end of that time, we are going to blow you to hell.”

The jeep ride back to Warmbad was absolutely quiet. All of them had their own thoughts and recommendations, but if the general wanted them, he would ask for them.

I Vega’s own mind was on fire-calculating, considering, discarding. He had no intention of giving in limply to the threats of the South African and his Western friends.

Vorster was gone, and presumably any of his sympathizers as well. What did that mean for the South African government? They were obviously the creatures of the Americans and British, but it had always been that way.

If the Americans were moving into Temba in strength, then they already held Pretoria. Vega guessed that his threat to the mines was over, and with it the Cuban forces’ role as a spoiler.

The general kept trying to fit the pieces together, to reduce the situation down to its basics. Could he still take Pretoria? Not likely.

Not with his present forces and supply situation.

Could he hurt the West? Probably, if he could ruin the mines. Vega knew that simply by remaining in South Africa, the economies of many Western nations were being threatened.

That was a goal he could fight for.

The jeep pulled up in front of his headquarters-and Vega got out more slowly, favoring his sore leg.

“Send a message to Havana. Tell them about the new situation and request reinforcements. We will need an increased level of support from the Russians. Tell Castro that ‘the capitalist forces have united themselves against us, and it is time for the socialist forces to match them. This is the great confrontation.”

“

Vasquez ran off to compose the message. Vega made no immediate move to speak, and finally Suarez asked, “Then we are not retreating?”

“Yes, we are, Colonel, but only as far as Warmbad. Pass word to all the commanders that we are taking up defensive positions in town.” He saw their stares and added, “We have been advancing, which means that we were on the wrong end of the three-to-one equation.

“If we dig into Warmbad and let them come to us, we can easily hold off a division-sized attack. After we give them a bloody nose, we will launch limited counterattacks, concentrating on holding ground and killing his troops. No advances, no offensives. They will have to come to us, and we will make them bleed.

” By the time they can bring up enough forces to overwhelm us, Havana and

Moscow will have sent us the additional reinforcements we so desperately need.”

Suarez nodded. It was a good plan, but he was still worried.

“What about the American air attacks?”

“We have seen what their air power can do. We can ride it out if we are ready. Start pulling our men back right away. Make it obvious and noisy, then dig them in around the town. Dig hard and deep.”

JANUARY 14-DEFENSE COUNCIL MEETING, THE

KREMLIN, RSFSR

Vega’s message asking for additional reinforcements was under intense discussion. It was not an argument, because everyone in the council was agreed: Vega had done the impossible and was only inches short of his goal. The question was, how much more aid should be provided?

The council was also in complete agreement about the Cuban’s request to shorten the supply lines. It was dismissed out of hand. Transport aircraft landing in South African territory would certainly force a direct confrontation with the Americans. The Cubans would have to make do.

Marshal Kamenev, chief of the general staff, looked pale

and haggard after a night with his planners. The Defense Council had been unable to reply to Castro and Vega without hard numbers, and his job had been to find them.

Distilling the situation to its basics, Kamenev said, “Vega now faces forces not only of greater strength but of higher quality. His T-62s and

Sagger missiles will be facing M-Is and TOWs, as well as attack helicopters and high-performance fighters.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Although only the defense minister and

Marshal Kamenev were military men, all of them could understand the advantage of first-line equipment over twenty-year-old castoffs.

“it is also clear that we can no longer plan on seizing the South African capital. The Americans and British have won that race, installing their own puppet government. Instead, we must plan on a strategy of economic denial. If Cuban forces can reach the Witwatersrand, they can dig in and hold on indefinitely. “

Kamenev’s aides started passing out copies of a thick document to each council member.

“This is a list of equipment we will have to make available if Vega is to fulfill his role as spoiler: advanced antitank missiles, artillery, air defense equipment, and especially more aircraft. “

The foreign minister interrupted.

“I have been in communication with several of our socialist allies. They are not prepared to offer more material assistance, but would welcome the chance to give their pilots combat experience. They will all make commitments to the fight, if we do.”