Night in London Page 12
“Thank you General.”
“Gentlemen please excuse me for a couple of minutes while I make a phone call.” The General left them at the bar to find somewhere quiet with a bit of privacy.
“Na Zdorovie Mike” toasted Nickolai Stanislov
“Cheers my brother.”
The men downed their tequilas.
“You know your good friend the General is very well connected. He is very high up here in South Africa, and in Africa Mike. Did you know that?”
“He is a General so I would imagine so.”
“Not just like that. I mean the man is a heavyweight with the politicians as well, and the army. You have a very powerful friend Mike.”
“That does not interest me Stani, you know that. He is a good man and I enjoy his company.”
“You surely cannot truly be friends unless you know who he really is?”
“What the fuck is this Stani, what are you trying to say? You sound like a marriage counsellor or that you are trying to stoke the fires? Seriously back off brother.”
“I know, I’m sorry it’s just that, well I am sure you know what I mean.”
“I do. I do know what you mean. And you are probably right. It’s probably overdue that I really got to know the General but all in good time I am sure. And for the right reasons. You know Stani you may think that I am naïve, as you may know things that I do not know about the General but I do know not to push certain subjects. Even with you, the things I don’t know about you, Stani, and your mysterious family matters that seem to occur so often. All in good time though hey Nickolai? I am sure we all have our own reasons.”
After a few silent moments the General returned.
“What have you gentlemen been talking about in my absence?”
“Well General, it seems Mike over here knows my secret. He knows who I really am.”
“Aha, I knew you were hiding something. A double agent perhaps, a criminal mastermind. Who are you then if not Nickolai Stanislov?”
“I am, it’s time I told you, I am, I cannot keep the secret any longer, I am, gentlemen, I am Spiderman!”
“I fucking knew it!” said Sergeant Night.
The General laughed out loud, knowing there was a hell of a lot more to Nickolai Stanislov than just being Spiderman. The three men chuckled together for a while. The break in their conversation was just long enough to open the doors to the men packed into the Radium to begin their usual ritual of paying their respects to General Amos Arosi and Sergeant Michael Night. One by one the men made their way over and made their greetings. All of the men saluted the General and some of the men saluted Sergeant Night but all of the men had great respect for both the General and the Sergeant. Constable Stanislov though was treated with a different kind of reverence. A cautious admiration of a deadly warrior: Stanislov’s reputation as a skilled sniper and unequalled combat shooter and Ex Russian Spetsnaz operative preceded him wherever he went but what confused the African men, the South African police officers, both black and white, who now greeted Nickolai Stanislov was his absolute letter of the law approach to policing in Africa, very unusual on the Dark Continent, and his no bullshit approach to tackling police corruption. He was well known for arresting crooked police officers, in uniform while on duty. He was almost viewed as a traitor to the brotherhood though none of the police officers could do anything about it. He was too damn dangerous to take on and he had powerful friends. It was better to behave while in the presence of the Incorruptible Russian One, as they called him.
About forty five minutes later when the routine of paying respects and the greeting of old friends was done and most of the men had returned to their original places in the Beerhall, Night noticed two short and slender, suited, men walk into the venue. One of the males was a Coloured, mixed race, man and the other was quite clearly an Afrikaner. Both had moustaches and were balding, both looked sinister and paranoid.
“Spies” Night said, looking at the mirror reflecting the two men who had just entered the Beerhall and who stood there seemingly searching for something or someone.
General Arosi and Constable Stanislov had already pinged (identified) the newcomers and had eyes on.
General Arosi turned and looked directly at the men who returned the look and nodded almost imperceptibly. They then headed to the table next to the entrance and approached the man sitting there. After a few words “The Man” stood up and walked out of the Radium Beerhall flanked by the two suited men.
“Your men General, your phone call?” asked Stanislov.
“My call but not my men. They are Military Intelligence.”
Military Intelligence is the more commonly used name of the South African National Defence Force Intelligence Division or SANDF-ID.
“Strange thing that, a Police General summoning Military Intelligence.”
“Perhaps Stanislov but that’s the way it is now. Multiple agencies are involved with the investigation stemming from last Friday’s events. Though my CID guys are still in the loop they are not at the cutting edge anymore.”
CID refers to Crime Intelligence Division of the South African Police Force.
“Sounds like a cluster-fuck to me!”
“You have a way of putting things so eloquently don’t you Nickolai. Though you would be right if I didn’t have a way of taking charge of the situation, which I do. Which brings me to the next subject of discussion, which I will get to but let me wrap up today’s business. First let me say congratulations to both of you for a job well done and a life saved. Fifteen Thousand Rand will be in each of your accounts by this time tomorrow. For now though forget about the contract and Annabel. Yossi Shishler, her former bodyguard will be back in the country next week and will resume his duties with Annabel. I will stay on as a consultant and will keep you gentlemen up to date with what is happening with regards to the contract which we all know is dodgy. I know the BOSS spy is a problem and I will deal with it, that I assure you. Now let’s have a drink before my mouth goes dry and I pass out from dehydration and lack of oxygen. Then we will get to the next order of business.”
Fernando brought over the usual round of drinks and explained that all alcoholic beverages for the rest of the night would be on the house as a thank you from the bar proprietor for getting rid of the “international vermin” who meddled in African business.
The men thanked Fernando and told him to arrange the use of the small room at the back of the bar where they would conclude their business.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In the privacy of the small administration office of the Beerhall the General explained what would happen next.
“Regarding our friend uSathane, gentlemen: My Intel suggests that we were correct not to have gone into Alex after the bastard last Friday night or over that weekend. The Colonel had placed dynamite explosives all over Alexandra at key points including the local police station and library and had we gone in they were going to detonate those explosives. It would have caused untold civilian fatalities and casualties, it would have turned the residents of the township against the force and it would have been a public relations disaster that no doubt the press would have picked up on. In all honesty it could have turned into a national issue for the country, gaining international press attention. The standing order from the Government Minister of Safety and Security is still in force, and that standing order is not to go in after uSathane on Alexandra ground. The Intel reports I have also suggest that uSathane deployed snipers on top of the mine dumps, and RPGs for the choppers he was sure we would bring. They were waiting for us and uSathane was apparently furious that we didn’t go in after him and a little confused as to why we didn’t. Round one to us, then.”
“That’s all well and good that we didn’t walk into uSathane’s trap” said Night, “but what’s next? We can’t just leave him there, as we know he has lived within the township for years knowing full well we wouldn’t go in after him after what had happened before. And Zulu gets back on Sunday, he wi
ll have the bloodlust, he will want uSathane’s head. And he won’t care about any standing orders.”
“uSathane will leave the township and soon Mike. Don’t you see, this other issue, the gold, that has attracted men like ‘The Man’ who our friends at MI have just led out of here for further ‘questioning’, will be the bait that we finally use to kill Satan and his bastards.”
“How can you be sure General?”
“Because Mike I have someone on the inside with uSathane. Someone he will never suspect.”
“That’s something. I know the force, the military and the government have been trying for years to get a mole inside uSathane’s network. They all ended up dead, decapitated, or missing. Rumours were that he ate some of the poor bastards.”
“Yes he eats his victims. We have suspected it for years but I have finally confirmed it. Cannibalism is alive and well in Africa, predominantly in West Africa, but many traditional South African, and perhaps more importantly in this case Zimbabwean healers, Sangomas, endorse the theory of regenerative healing powers through the consumption of human meat, people. And uSathane is HIV and AIDS full blown positive, hence the reason he eats men and woman, his victims. Anyway we are not here to talk about that. We are not here to talk about an African Silence of the Lambs. My informant tells me that uSathane plans on leading the excavation of the gold in the desert himself and that he plans on using the money derived from the gold to go back to Zim and overthrow Mugabe and take power for himself.”
“uSathane the new President of Zimbabwe, my God,” exclaimed Night, “that makes me think of that poignant saying ‘Better the Devil you know.’”
“Indeed Mike, anyway we won’t let that happen.”
The General leaned back in his seat and then placed both his palms on the table and allowed a moment of dramatic silence to build.
The General spoke softly but intensely: “I plan to regain Control of this situation by leading a mobile Fire Force element against the Colonel in the desert once he has settled in and once he has retrieved the gold.”
His audience sat in shocked silence.
It was Sergeant Night who broke it: “Okay General, I will assume for a second that you are being serious...”
“I am, deadly serious.”
“Okay. Will this be an official South African Police Force sanctioned and legal operation?”
“No. Not an official Force operation. We will not be acting as police officers.”
“Under the military then?”
“Negative. Not military, not government and no spies, nothing, just us and a few good men.”
The officers said nothing and each drank from their glass, enjoying the drama of the moment and struck by the seriousness of the various possibilities and implications conjured up by the General’s revelation.
Nickolai Stanislov of the analytical mind spoke first.
“I can understand not going in under the Police banner. Too many jurisdiction issues, too much red tape and too many laws that would have to be followed if you went that route. Though why not go in with the army, officially, you obviously have the clout and connections with them General?”
The General’s next words were measured, his intonation severe: “Firstly, under what law can the South African Army take on a criminal, why wouldn’t the Police do it or a joint operation between the Force and the Military with backing from the AG (Attorney General)? That would be the question people would ask. Though those would not be the reasons we wouldn’t go in with the army.”
“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. ”