He struggled to a sitting position with his back crammed against a cold, bare wall. In the light that sifted through the wreckage he could see that the floor above had dropped only two feet before becoming wedged between the narrow walls of his cell.

After a brief rest to collect his strength, Machita began pushing away the rubble. His hands discovered a short length of board and he used it to pry away the topside flooring until at last he forced an opening large enough to crawl through. Cautiously he peered over the edge into the chilly night air. Nothing stirred. He bent his knees and shoved his body upward until his hands touched the grass of the parade ground. A sudden heave and he was free.

Machita took a deep breath and looked around. It was then that he saw the miracle of his salvation. The wall of the administration building facing the parade field had caved inward, collapsing the first floor, which had effectively shielded his cell from falling debris and the deadly wrath of the South Africans.

No one greeted Machita as he staggered to his feet, because there was no one in sight. The moon illuminated an eerie, barren landscape. Every facility, every building, had been leveled. The field was empty; the bodies of the dead were gone.

It was as though the African Army of Revolution had never existed.

184 p>

45

VIXEN 03

“I wish I could help you, but I don’t really see how.”

Lee Raferty had been right, Pitt reflected. Orville Mapes did look more like a hardware peddler than a weapons dealer. Raferty was wrong on one count, though: Mapes was no longer a vice-president; he had moved up to president and chairman of the board of the Phalanx Arms Corporation. Pitt stared back into the gray eyes of the stubby little man.

“A check of your inventory records would be helpful.”

“I do not open my records for a stranger who wanders in from the street. My customers would not look kindly upon a supplier who failed to keep their transactions confidential.”

“The law requires you to list your arms sales with the Defense Department, so what’s the big secret?”

“Are you with Defense, Mr. Pitt?” asked Mapes.

“Indirectly.”

“Then whom do you represent?”

“Sorry, I can’t say.”

Mapes shook his head irritably and rose. “I’m a busy man. I have no time for games. You can find your own way out.”

Pitt remained in his chair. “Sit down, Mr. Mapes … please.”

Mapes found himself looking into a pair of green eyes that were as hard as jade. He hesitated, and considered challenging the command, then slowly did as he was asked.

Pitt nodded at the telephone. “So we both know where we stand, I suggest you call General Elmer Grosfield.”

Mapes made a nettled face. “The Chief Inspector of Foreign Arms Shipments and I seldom see eye to eye.”