“Self-imposed. He’s an American black. Seems he made a vast sum of money in international drug smuggling. But wealth was not enough..He entertained dreams of power and grandeur. So he sold out his business to

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a French syndicate and came to Africa and began organizing and equipping his own army of liberation.”

“Seems a staggering undertaking for only one man,” said Fawkes, “even a wealthy one.”

“Not so staggering when you have help, and lots of it,” Zeegler explained. “The Chinese supply his arms and the Vietnamese train his men. Fortunately, our security forces are able to keep them in a state of almost constant rout.”

“But our government will surely fall if we are subjected to a prolonged economic blockade,” added De Vaal. “Lusana’s game plan is to fight a clean war by the book. No terrorism, no killing of innocent women and children. His forces thus far have attacked only military installations. Then, by playing benevolent savior, he can gain total moral and financial support from the United States, Europe, and the Third World powers. Once he achieves these goals he can exert his newly acquired influence to close off all our economic dealings with the outside world. Then the end of White South Africa is only a matter of weeks.”

“Is there no way to contain Lusana?” asked Fawkes.

De Vaal’s bushy eyebrows rose. “There is one possibility, provided you give it your blessing.”

Fawkes stared at the Minister, his expression one of bewilderment. “I’m only a beached sailor and a farmer. I know nothing about insurgent warfare. Of what use can I be to the Ministry of Defence?”

De Vaal did not answer but simply passed Fawkes a leather-bound book about the size of a thin bookkeeping ledger.

“It’s called Operation Wild Rose.”

The lights of Pembroke blinked on one by one in the evening dusk. A light rain had pelted the windows of the coach, leaving a myriad of streaks down the dust-coated glass. Fawkes’s reading spectacles clung to his great nose and magnified his eyes as they darted back and forth over the pages without pause. He was so engrossed in what he was reading he absentmindedly chewed on the stem of a pipe that had long since burned out.

It was a few minutes past eight o’clock when he closed the cover of Operation Wild Rose. He sat there for a long moment as though in contemplation. Finally he shook his head tiredly.

“I pray to God it never comes to this,” he said quietly.

“I share your sentiments,” said De Vaal. “But the time is fast ap—

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preaching when our backs will be against the wall and Operation Wild Rose may well be our final hope of escaping annihilation.”

“I still fail to see what you gentlemen want from me.”