The General's President (35 page)

"You'd have to ask Donnelly. When Wheeler died, Alford stayed on at State until the end of Donnelly's partial term; then resigned. He had health problems. Then Donnelly appointed Coulter. Coulter'd been a professor of political science at the University of Colorado, and I suppose they'd gotten to know one another back there when Donnelly was in state politics."

Haugen hung his towel on a peg. Someone unseen would come within minutes and the wet towels would disappear, to show up anonymously later on, among others, laundered soft and white and neatly folded. He put on his shorts, then took his shirt from a hanger and thrust thick hairy arms into the sleeves.

"It's not the greatest time to change secretaries over at State," he added. "But it's better than keeping someone who's got strange fish of his own to fry." He pulled his slacks on and buckled his belt. "And I'm perfectly willing to have malfeasance charges filed against him, if Dirksma comes up with proof of anything."

***

Scowling, Paul Willard Randolph Massey tossed aside the editorial section of the
New York Times
; it landed on top of three others. Reading it, one might almost think the
Times
approved of Haugen, praising as it did with faint and equivocal damns. And two of the other papers had been no better.

He looked at the clock: 2:41. In nineteen minutes, Keller and Johnson were due to arrive for their meeting.

He got up from his chair and began to pace. Normally Massey was a mild and patient man, but Haugen's speech had stirred some deep and restless poison in him. Pausing, he stared unseeing through the wall-size window toward the Statue of Liberty and wondered what Barron had done toward getting more satisfactory performance from the press.

He was becoming frustrated with Tallmon again. And he couldn't threaten him with "Merriman" because Merriman seemed to have disappeared. Nor had he taken time yet to find anyone else with Merriman's expertise. He wasn't sure there was anyone else.

It was the kind of thing that, ordinarily, Tallmon would take care of for him.

Massey felt suddenly tired. Things were becoming difficult, and he no longer had the force he'd had ten, twenty years ago. Perhaps he should pass more of the responsibility to Keller and Johnson. He gathered himself then, and inwardly shook off the thought. Not now; not yet. This was just a mood; he'd feel better tomorrow at home.

***

Barron Tallmon had not been about to send the thick, 9 X 12-inch envelope with the mailman, nor even mail it at the village post office in East Roughton. Not addressed as it was. Instead he weighed and stamped it and took it all the way to Waterbury, dropping it in a curbside box outside the main post office. Before he pulled back into traffic, he glanced at his dashboard clock: 2:41. He wondered what Massey was doing at 2:41.

Not that it made any difference to him, Tallmon told himself. Massey had no teeth; he used other people's teeth. And outside of politics and finance, Massey didn't know the ropes, didn't have the contacts to hire the teeth himself. He, Tallmon, was the one Massey depended on to arrange the occasional assassination.

Except, of course, for Merriman. Merriman with his dangerous people. Massey knew Merriman. But Merriman had dropped out of contact. Maybe he was in a cell somewhere, or maybe dead. Considering the kinds of things Merriman did to people, neither one would be surprising.

THIRTY-TWO

Besides the de facto members, the National Security Council meeting was attended by specialists from the Department of State and the CIA. Coulter wasn't there; Haugen had fired him two days earlier, along with Campbell at Defense. Actually, he'd requested and accepted their resignations. Haugen had appointed Assistant Secretary Harold Katsaros as acting secretary of state, bypassing Coulter's deputy. An assistant secretary recommended by Cromwell was acting secretary of defense.

And Stephen Flynn was there, sitting out of the way, observing.

Also there, as a consultant, was Rudolfo Valenzuela. He hadn't agreed yet to take over at State, but he hadn't said no either. Apparently he wanted to test the water; at least he'd agreed to sit in today. The principal subject of the day's meeting made it an ideal time to have him there, for he was exceptionally knowledgeable about both South Africa and Cuba, and could even be called a personal friend of Colonel Juan Augustin Lopez, Cuba's president.

The basic briefing on the first topic had been little more than an oral summary of the written report. Strong military forces of the
Republiek van Suid-Afrika
—the RSA—had rolled into Namibia. Namibia was ruled by the Marxist-oriented native SWAPO, and increasingly, SWAPO had been supporting sabotage and guerrilla activities in the RSA.

To the north of Namibia, in Angola, the Cubans had approximately 20,000 mercenaries, hired from the Cuban government by the Angolan government. This was the largest Cuban armed force outside Cuba since Lopez had evicted Moscow's advisors, reopened diplomatic relations with the United States, and signed a trade agreement.

And while the Cuban government was no longer influenced by the Kremlin, it still supported indigenous revolutions. Lopez was quite prepared to send his Angolan force south into Namibia to help SWAPO against the Afrikaners.

"Suppose they do?" asked the president. "What then?"

"It'll make a battlefield out of Namibia," said the State Department specialist. "There are a lot of Namibians who aren't political. They'll be caught in the middle. And the Cubans will take a drubbing, which Lopez won't like. He'll be looking to us to intervene."

"Is that right, Jumper? The South Africans would drub the Cubans?"

The general nodded. "Absolutely. First of all, the Cubans there are short on armor and air support since they crowded the Soviets and East Germans out. Most of the armor and planes had been Soviet, and the Sovs took almost all of it home with them. And the Afrikaners are not only well equipped for war there; they've been ranked fifth in the world in the quality of their army, between France and the United States. Although I could make a good case for ranking us ahead of them."

"Huh! Where does Cuba rank?"

"Eighteenth. Which is damn good for a third world country. To give you an idea, the Soviets are rated thirteenth. But eighteenth is quite a way below fifth. And in Angola, as I said, the Cubans are short on armor and air support."

"Then why would Lopez send his people south? I presume his contract with the Angolans only holds good for Angola."

"It's partly a matter of face: The Cubans have a Latin style of honor. And while they've pulled out of Moscow's Comintern, their government is still basically Communist; just independent-minded Communist."

Valenzuela spoke then. He was a fairly big man with a deep resonant voice, powerfully built but a bit overweight. His hands were even larger than Haugen's and just as beefy. "I'd be surprised," he said, "if Colonel Lopez wouldn't like a way out. Which might be something we can provide him with to our advantage."

"Tell us about that," said the president.

"Namibia used to be a German colony, until 1915 I believe it was. There's still a sizeable German population on the coast there. More important, after World War Two, West Germany traced down all they could find of the old native colonial army veterans and paid each of them a healthy bonus. In native terms, that was true wealth, and it made a strong impression on the Namibians. I was impressed at how highly they regarded the West Germans."

"What are you suggesting, Dr. Valenzuela?"

Valenzuela turned to Katsaros and grinned. "What do you think we could get out of the Germans, Hal?"

"I think," said Katsaros thoughtfully, "that we might talk the Germans into providing a squadron of A-111G ground-support fighters and possibly one of F-16 interceptors. To operate out of the airfield at Walvis Bay; the South African army will probably control Lüderitz before we could get the Germans there. And assuming we succeed, well, the Afrikaners have a lot of respect for the West Germans. I'd be very surprised if they'd risk fighting them." He turned to the president and smiled. "Ask General Cromwell how the West Germans rank in the quality of their armed forces, Mr. President."

One of Haugen's eyebrows raised. "How about you telling me?"

"They rank first, sir. Just ahead of Great Britain and Israel."

"Huh! West Germany and Great Britain first and second! Interesting. Supposing the Germans agree. Then what? I don't suppose they'd want to stay there indefinitely. How would we follow up on that?"

"Then we get President Lopez, or his foreign minister, to lean on SWAPO to stop agitating, while we lean on the RSA to move out of Namibia."

"And you think Lopez would be willing to do that? And SWAPO?"

"I wouldn't guarantee it," said Katsaros. "But I think there's a very good chance. Lopez must know the difficulties his troops would face there. And I'm sure SWAPO does too. Most of Namibia is desert grassland and open scrub—poor country for fighting a tough, mechanized army like the RSA's. Especially one with air support."

The president frowned thoughtfully. "It looks to me as if the best we could hope for was a return to the old status quo then, and I don't see how that could last long. My impression is that the Afrikaners get more intransigent year by year; that they don't even pretend anymore. And the blacks get less willing to accept the way things are."

No one said anything. Haugen turned to a CIA specialist. "Werner, your brief didn't say anything about the RSA having nuclear weapons, so I suppose they don't. Right?"

"That's right, Mr. President. We can feel pretty sure they don't, regardless of rumors to the contrary. First, they don't need nuclear weapons, and they've made a point of saying they don't want them. Frankly, they're afraid the rest of the world would gang up on them if they did. But the key reason for our assumption is that their information security isn't good. There are too many white South Africans who, more or less secretly, are anti-government. And not just whites of British or Australian or other non-Afrikaner backgrounds; they include more than a few Afrikaners too. So if they ever get nuclear weapons, I'd be damned surprised if someone didn't leak it to us, or to the British, in very short order."

Haugen nodded and looked at Katsaros. "If they're going to have a war down there within a few years anyway, mightn't it be better if they did it now and got it over with? In a few years the RSA might have those nuclear weapons."

"Mr. President," said Katsaros, "I'd prefer to prevent any war if we can, or any war I can envision off-hand. On the admittedly optimistic principle that if we delay hostilities, something may occur to cancel a war there indefinitely. The circumstances tending to bring about a war may change. We didn't invade Cuba, and after thirty-odd years, Cuba disconnected from the Kremlin. We didn't invade Nicaragua, and the Sandinistas, under Cuban pressure, also disconnected from Moscow. Then centrist Sandinistas took control, and suddenly that problem was gone."

Haugen didn't respond at once. After a few seconds he looked at Valenzuela. "How does that sound to you, Doctor?"

"Every case has to be considered on its own set of particulars. But certainly in this case I agree with Secretary Katsaros."

"All right," said the president, turning back to Katsaros. "Then if we go that route—if we ask Lopez to intervene with SWAPO—who in Namibia do we ask to allow the Germans to come in? Assuming the Germans are willing. How do you propose to actually do this?"

"First," Katsaros answered, "we ask the Germans if they're willing. They're the bigger question. Then, if the Germans are willing, we talk to President Lopez, because we need his agreement. His people would be the ones to talk to SWAPO. Then, if Lopez is willing, we lay it on the line to the RSA."

The president frowned and looked at Valenzuela. "Dr. Valenzuela, what is the state of mind in the Republic of South Africa just now? Among the whites?"

Valenzuela didn't hesitate. "Among the majority of the white population, the state of mind is ruthless determination not to yield an inch on apartheid. And during elections, they've removed from government anyone with any visible tendency to compromise. The liberals have been gone from government for decades, the moderates for years. So among those who govern, the state of mind is three parts ruthless determination and one part desperation. Desperation because in government they have a better view of the situation, and they're the ones who have to make things work, or try to.

"There is also a minority of whites with moderate inclinations, who don't say much except to each other. These are people who don't see their way free to leave, at least not yet. South Africa is their homeland. They have property, position, family ties, generations of family history there. And a high standard of living. What they don't have is influence or hope. I have little idea of how many they are, but they are there. I've talked to a few of them, and to some who've left. We cannot expect anything from them, however."

The president nodded. "Ruthlessness and desperation, you said. So what can we expect to accomplish by talking to the South African government? Except to buy time?" He didn't wait for an answer; the question was rhetorical. Instead he asked, "What is the state of mind of the black Africans there?"

"That's harder to say," Valenzuela answered. "Our communication is with the educated few. A Bishop Desmond Tutu, a Wilfred Mpumelele. But the really important blacks there are the illiterate tens of millions who have no one we can read as a barometer. So we judge as best we can from riots and demonstrations, and those are abnormal situations, not representative. Then there are tribal differences. And the men who clean streets no doubt feel differently about things than the farm hands, who look at things more or less differently than the mine laborers. While what we might call the reservation blacks will have their own attitudes.

"But I believe we can assume that there is increasing unity, a generally lower flash point, and a greater potential for widespread violence, really terrible violence, than there was a few years ago."