De Vaal was nearly choking with rage. “You have served me for ten years, Joris. You well know I punish insubordination to the extreme.”

“I’m aware of that, sir, but I think we should stay, particularly in light of the circumstances.” Zeegler pointed toward a black man who was threading his way between the gravestones. He wore a grim, determined face and was dressed in the uniform of the AAR. A long, curved Moroccan knife was gripped loosely in one hand.

“The fourth actor in the drama,” said Pitt. “Permit me to introduce Thomas Machita, the new leader of the African Army of Revolution.”

Though the Minister’s entourage carried no weapons, Zeegler stood unconcerned. De Vaal spun and shouted to his chauffeur while gesturing wildly at Machita. “Sergeant! Shoot him! For God’s sake, shoot him!”

The sergeant looked through De Vaal, as though the Minister were transparent. De Vaal turned to Zeegler, his eyes sick with a mounting fear. “Joris, what goes on?”

Zeegler did not answer; his face was an emotionless void.

Pitt pointed into the open grave. “It was Captain Fawkes who blew the whistle on your shifty act. He may have been unhinged by the death of his family and blinded by revenge, but it struck him that he had been horribly and pitifully duped when you sent Emma to kill him. A necessary part of your plan. Captured alive, he might have revealed your direct involvement. Also, you couldn’t take the chance he could somehow become wise that it was you who masterminded the attack on his farm.”

“No!” The word scratched from De Vaal’s throat.

“Captain Patrick McKenzie Fawkes was the only man in South Africa who could pull off Wild Rose. You ordered the murders of his wife and children knowing a grief-stricken man would seek retribution. The massacre was a stroke of cunning. Even your own people at the Ministry were at a loss to connect the raiders with any known insurgent organization. It never dawned on them their boss sneaked in a team of black mercenaries from Angola.”

De Vaal’s eyes registered stunned desperation. “How is it possible you know all this?”

“Like any good intelligence officer, Colonel Zeegler kept investigating until he ran down the truth,” Pitt said. “Also, as do most sea captains,

Fool’s Mate I 283

Fawkes kept a log. I was there when Emma tried to kill him. Fawkes saved my life before the ship blew up. But not before inserting his log, along with a few added notes about you, into a watertight tobacco pouch and slipping it under my shirt. The pages made damned interesting reading, especially to the President and the director of the NSA.