Night of the Black Bastards (An Action-Packed Thriller) (16 page)

“Then what?”

“uSathane’s real name and designation, as you already know, is Colonel Sifisu Sibanda of the Zimbabwe National Army and my informant is clear on the fact that he plans on recovering the gold with a platoon of ZNA soldiers, 24 men officially armed and recognised as Zimbabwean troops. Do you see now why South African soldiers cannot be involved in this operation?”

“Yes” interjected Night. “Any move by the South African Armed Forces against uSathane and his men would be an act of war on South African territory, one nation’s army against another. It could be the catalyst to hostilities between the two countries.”

“Precisely Mike. And uSathane is using this fact as a shield against being attacked by the South African Military.”

“So MI must know about this plan and the NIA and our CID, right? Which means the suits, the politicians must know?”

“No not yet Mike. They all have pieces of the puzzle and they know that uSathane wants to go into the Karoo himself to get the gold. And the Libyan Council has been in touch with Pretoria asking for help in recovering the Gadhafi gold. But they don’t know everything, they don’t know what I know, not yet. They don’t have my source.”

The three men looked back and forth between them. The issues were becoming more complex, more puzzling.

“Surely though” insisted Night, “it’s only a matter of time until they find out and then they will veto your planned operation. They will intercept uSathane’s platoon of 24 men attempting to cross the border and will instruct you to arrest uSathane en route to the GPS coordinates. Then they will recover the gold, if it even exists. Easy.”

“MI, NIA, CID, the Minister for Safety and Security, everyone will know the full scale of uSathane’s plan on Monday” announced the General.

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I will tell them about it. At a briefing in Pretoria that I have arranged. I will put forward my plan, which I have no doubt they will accept.”

Now the Russian leaned forward and spoke with unusual urgency: “With all due respect General why would they accept your proposal for dealing with the situation, I mean it wouldn’t even be classified as a black op, a deniable act from a particular government agency , it would be a non-existent manoeuvre flown under no official government flag, even if in secret?”

“Exactly Nickolai, exactly my friend. It would be completely clear of any suspicion of government involvement. And will fly completely under the radar. The South African government would be able to avoid explaining why a platoon of Zim soldiers were trying to enter the country. They would be able to assist the new Libyan power brokers quietly and not piss anybody else off.”

“That’s fine in a world where everything works out perfectly. In a world where we kill the devil and his men and recover the Libyan gold. That’s fine, in a perfect world.”

“Do you doubt that we are capable of assaulting an encampment of uSathane and his men and winning the battle, eliminating our enemy and claiming victory?”

“No General I don’t. Not with the right men and weaponry. Which will be my next question if you can answer the first, what would happen if, for whatever reason we fail and are caught or killed? I am just saying now, playing the devil’s advocate, so to speak.”

“Then we are fucked Nickolai, not completely but almost. We would be labelled as mercenaries out for the gold, dogs of war loyal to no one and nothing but the highest bidder and the love of money. Our Government and Police Force would lead with this angle and condemn us to the depths of hell and to the gang lords of Sun City prison no doubt.”

“Mercenaries. Now we are Mercs?” The Russian gave a cynical snort. “Okay if we could be seen as such then in the worst case scenario of being apprehended or killed and the media getting a sniff of the situation I do think the suits would find your plan plausible, they could disown us completely, if it weren’t for the fact that we are all fully fledged and appropriately appointed serving police officers in the South African Police Force and that you are a General, the Provincial Commander of Gauteng and Johannesburg none the less. That’s a bit of a hiccup in our undercover plan wouldn’t you say General?”

“Correct Constable Stanislov. Except a cover story is being drawn up as we speak – an investigation that will uncover the fact that we are a break away element of police officers now turned criminals and are already under investigation for links to organised crime and private military companies operating across Africa. This report will of course never come to light unless we are killed or captured during the operation.”

Sergeant Night entered the discussion, both elbows on the table, leaning almost face to face with the General: “Now I see why you say we would be destroyed General, our careers, our reputation, our freedom would all be lost. If we weren’t already dead of course. Though I get it that you have clearly thought about this operation but my main question now is--who would we carry out the manoeuvre with?”

“The most important question and piece in this puzzle. Ever heard of Management Results or perhaps it’s more South African call sign, Mike Romeo?”

“Of course, they pioneered the PMC game. The godfathers of it all. The original Mercs of the 20th Century.”

The men fell silent once more.

“We would work with them,” said General Arosi. “I am personal friends with the founder of the company. We would work under the corporation banner of World Net and under binding contract to the new Libyan National Transitional Council to recover their gold, as a Security, Tracking and Recovery company --- for a retrieval fee of course. All completely above board and legal.”

“So our cover as Mercs would be legitimate” said Stanislov.

“I doubt it’s even cover any more Stani, is it General?” asked Night.

“Does it even matter Michael? And the 21st century accepted term is Security Contractors. It will be legitimate cover because everyone in the South African government and our Armed Forces would know about it and who we are and that I designed the plan and led the operation. The South African government would be able to alert their neighbouring dictator, old Bob, about the planned coup attempt which they helped foil and the new Libyan leadership would also be grateful about the return of their national treasure and will no doubt grant South Africa good oil concessions. South Africa the policeman and protector of Africa. Everybody wins. No media and no hoo-ha. ”

“How many men in our Fire Force General?”

“Eighteen men Nickolai but not ordinary men, 18 elite operators, the best of the best. Six men from Mike Romeo - we know their combat credentials are exceptional - and six handpicked Taakies. I am good friends with the STF Commander and I can get the men, no problem. Then the four of us plus two more, any suggestions?”

Taakies is the Afrikaans nickname given to the operators of the South African Police Special Task Force (SAPS STF). The Special Task Force is the Special Operations element of the South African Police Force.

The STF has a formidable reputation in counter terrorism and insurgency and hostage rescue. Unlike most civilian/police counter terrorist units around the world, the special task force is also trained to conduct military special operations and has done so on many occasions, operating with their military counterparts, especially during the long 30 year border war. They are internationally regarded as deadly exponents in the art of bush warfare. A fact worth mentioning is that during the 70s and 80s, during the border war, many British SAS volunteered for selection, many passed and consequently served in the South African Special Forces.

The basic training course is 26 weeks long and includes weapons, rural and urban combat as well as basic parachute training courses. Compulsory advanced courses include special skills such as diving and VIP protection, explosives and medical training. The total initial training period is nine months, but completing all the requisite advanced courses to become a full-fledged Special Task Force operational member may last up to three years.

The STF is widely considered to be among the best of such units in the world. And many veteran South African police and army operatives and security contractors regard the STF as the best special forces unit on earth. Testament to this belief is that unlike any other hostage rescue element in the world the Special Task Force has never lost the life of a single hostage in over 20 years of existence, carrying out hundreds of successful operations and rescues.

“Guys from my former Commando Unit” said Night, “would love a piece of this action but I assume you don’t want any currently serving army men?”

“Yes, no infantry on this op.”

“Then I would suggest two from Yankee then, Snyman, he’s a hard bastard and former Mil as well and one of his, he should be game, after all it was one of his Rooks that was killed last week by uSathane.”

“Okay I will get in touch with him and get a feel for his mood and potential interest.”

“But 18 versus 24 are not military odds General, we should have more men than our enemy, surely, this is a basic principle of war is it not?”

“Yes but the fewer men we have to pull in on this operation the better, from an OP-SEC (Operational Security) point of view,  fewer leaks, anyway I want to make this an elite operation with only bona fide master craftsmen on our side and besides we shall have some aces up our sleeves.”

“Pray tell General.”

“Two Casspirs and a Chopper.”

The Casspir is a landmine-protected personnel carrier (APC) that has been in use in South Africa for over 30 years. It is a four-wheeled armoured vehicle, used for transport of troops. It can hold a crew of two, plus 12 additional soldiers and associated gear. The Casspir was unique in design when launched, providing for passive mine defence. The main body of the vehicle is V-shaped and raised above the ground, so that if a mine is detonated, the explosion is less likely to damage the crew compartment and kill the occupants. The cross-section of the hull is V-shaped, directing the force of the explosion outwards, further protecting the occupants. The vehicle is also armoured for added mine safety, as well as protection from small arms fire.

The name 'Casspir' is an anagram of the abbreviations of the customer, the South African Police (SAP), and the design company, Council for Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR).

“Now it’s winnable” said Sergeant Night with a grin of satisfaction. “Now we would be unstoppable, even if uSathane used his preferred dynamite against us the Casspirs would hold. And the chopper could provide air fire support and CASEVAC  (Casualty Evacuation) ”

“Indeed.”

“Operationally it looks like a solid plan, it could work, if you can deliver the men, the Casspirs and the Chopper and of course if you can get the green light.”

“I will and I can.”

The three men sat still for a moment, finishing their final drinks for the night.

“This is about the gold isn’t it Amos?” said Night.

“Partly. Yes, it’s about the gold and the financial reward we can all, legally gain, by completing this tasking under a private banner. It could be the launch pad for World Net. But it’s also a golden opportunity to eliminate uSathane and rid this world of him, to kill him and his men, no red tape, no bullshit, no courts, no media, no rioting and no lawyers. For the moment though this is all hypothetical until I get the go ahead from the suits, from Pretoria.”

“So what do we do while we wait for the answer General? Zulu will be restless and perhaps difficult to calm unless we keep him busy.”

“I have thought of that. You know the new recruits for this year, the new intake from the police college, well Norwood has six new Student Constables joining and they will need training and I do believe that you are still the station’s lead FTO (Field Training Officer).”

“I am but the intake is not for another three weeks.”

“I have brought the intake forward by three weeks. The new recruits arrive on Monday. Captain Gerhard Van Der Merwe will meet you at the Norwood Barracks Gym at 0800 on Monday, he will be with the six Student Constables.”

Sergeant Night leaned back in his seat, contemplating this news.

“Training the rooks, hmmm okay sounds good, I always enjoy getting back to basics and preparing the new fish. It will keep us busy and take our minds, Zulu’s mind, off of uSathane for just long enough for us to know the next move.”

The General’s attitude modulated to matter of fact business. “Now let’s get out of here I have a lot of preparing to do for Monday.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

The three men left the Radium Beerhall. Nickolai Stanislov got into his VW Golf and went home. Michael Night gave the General a lift to his beautiful house in Hyde Park, a very wealthy suburb in Johannesburg, though a more accurate description of the General’s home would be to call it a mansion. Night opened the grand automatic gates to the General’s household with the remote Control that the General had given him some months before and drove up the long driveway, passing the tennis courts on his right hand side. Night pulled up to the imposing main entrance and the General got out and invited Night in for a night cap. Night politely refused and made his way home to his Spartan single man’s police flat in the Norwood Police Barracks.

He wanted the time alone. To drive and to hear the purr of his Lumina’s V8 on the almost empty Johannesburg streets while listening to Paul Van Dyk’s progressive trance tunes playing softly on the car’s audio system and process the precise junction in his life which he had now reached. He had taken on private jobs as a bodyguard and security contractor many times before. He had looked after politicians and celebrities, royalty and corporate giants, battered wives and threatened businessmen but he had always been able to put that work into a box, separate and secondary to his work as a police officer.

In his mind he was always a police officer first, then a contractor. But as life happens and as the years go by the realities of making money and building a future for himself and the people he loved were becoming more of a pressing matter. He too had dreams that he wanted to fulfil but on a South African Police Sergeant’s salary he could hardly afford to buy the extra tactical equipment he sometimes needed. Only since Night started to take on private jobs, through the General, was he able to enjoy the little luxuries in life, including the car he now drove. His beloved SS.