Every eye focused on the Vietnamese adviser. Lusana stared into the inscrutable eyes. “Perhaps you’d care to repeat the statement.”

“I am merely suggesting that someone in the South African government may have ordered the murder of the Fawkes family and their field workers.”

They all stared at him wordlessly for several moments. Finally Machita broke the silence.

“I fail to see a purpose.”

“Nor I,” Lo said, and shrugged. “But consider this. Who else would have the resources to equip a group of commandos in arms and uniforms that are identical to our own? Also, and most important, does it not strike you, gentlemen, as odd that even though the attacking group retreated within the sound of Defence Force helicopters, none of them was tracked down. It is a fact of guerrilla life that we require a minimum of one hour to insure even a moderate chance of a successful escape. Less than ten minutes’ head start on a force using helicopters and dogs is suicide.”

“You make an intriguing case,” Lusana said, his fingers drumming the table. “I don’t for one minute accept it as valid. However, it won’t hurt to run a check.” He turned to Machita. “Do you have a trusted informer in the Defence Ministry?”

“Someone highly placed,” answered Machita. “Costs us a pretty

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penny, but his information is thoroughly reliable. Odd sort, though; he never appears in the same place twice under the same guise.”

“You make him sound like some kind of mystic,” said Jumana.

“Perhaps he is,” conceded Machita. “Emma materializes when we least expect him.”

“Emma?”

“His code name.”

“Either the man has a warped sense of humor or he’s a transvestite,” said Lusana.

“I cannot say, General.”

“How do you contact him?”

“We don’t. He reaches us only when he has useful information to sell.”

Jumana’s face clouded. “What guarantee have we that he isn’t feeding us falsified documents?”

“To date, everything he passed us from the Ministry has checked out one hundred percent.”

Lusana looked at Machita. “You’ll see to it, then?”

Machita nodded. “I’ll fly to Pretoria myself and await Emma’s next appearance. If anyone can clear up the mystery, it will be him.”

20

The African Army of Revolution’s camp was not really a camp at all; rather, it was a headquarters in what was once a small university for the Portuguese when they ruled Mozambique. A new university for the nation’s black citizens had since risen from the heart of a new city torn from the northern interior, on Lake Malawi.

The converted campus made an ideal base for Lusana’s army: dormitories for the troops, cafeterias turned mess halls, sporting facilities now utilized for combat instruction, comfortable quarters for the officers, a newly decorated ballroom for social events.