Then he turned and slowly made his way toward the elevator that would take him up to the White House.

Fool’s Mate

Umkono, South Africa-January 1989

The heat from the early-morning sun made itself felt as two men gently slipped the cradle ropes through their hands and lowered the wooden box to the floor of the grave. Then the ropes were pulled free, making a soft rustling sound as they snaked around the sharp, unsanded edges of the coffin.

“Sure you don’t want me to fill it in?” asked an ebony-skinned gravedigger as he coiled the rope around a sinewy shoulder.

“Thanks, I’ll take care of it,” Pitt said, holding out several South African rand notes.

“No pay,” said the gravedigger. “The captain was a friend. I could dig a hundred graves and never repay the kindness he rained upon my family when he was alive.”

Pitt nodded in understanding. “I’ll borrow your shovel.”

The digger obliged, shook Pitt’s hand vigorously, and flashed an enormous smile. Then with a wave he set foot over a narrow path that led from the cemetery to the village.

Pitt looked around. The landscape was lush but harsh. Steam from the damp undergrowth wisped above the plants as the sun rose higher in the

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sky. He rubbed a sleeve over his sweat-soaked forehead and stretched out under a mimosa tree, studying its blossoming yellow fluffy balls and long white thorns and listening to the honking of hornbills in the distance. Then he turned his attention back to the large granite stone sitting at the head of the grave site. I

HERE LIE THE FAMILY FAWKES

Patrick McKenzie

Myrna Clarissa

Patrick McKenzie, Jr.

Jennifer Louise

Joined together for

all eternity

1988

A prophetic man, the captain, Pitt thought. The stone had been carved in its entirety months before Fawkes’s death on board the Iowa. He brushed away a vagrant ant and dozed for the next two hours. He was awakened by the sound of a car.

The uniformed driver, a sergeant, braked the Bentley, slipped from behind the wheel, and opened the rear door. Colonel Joris Zeegler stepped out, followed by Defence Minister Pieter De Vaal.

“Seems peaceful enough,” said De Vaal.

“This sector has been quiet since the Fawkes massacre,” Zeegler replied. “I believe the grave is this way, sir.”

Pitt rose to his feet and brushed himself off as they approached. “It was good of you gentlemen to come so far,” he said, extending his hand.

“No great effort, I assure you,” De Vaal said arrogantly. He ignored Pitt’s outstretched hand and sat irreverently on the Fawkes headstone. “By coincidence, Colonel Zeegler had arranged an inspection tour of northern Natal Province. A short detour, a brief stop-off in the schedule. No harm done.”

“This won’t take long,” said Pitt, casually checking his dark glasses for smudges. “Did you know Captain Fawkes?”