On his eighth cast he had a strike, a hard, splashing strike that nearly tore the rod from his relaxed grip. He had hooked a tiger fish, an Old World relative of the ferocious piranha of the South American Amazon. He gave the fish its head and eased out more line. He had little choice; the rod was nearly bent double. Then, abruptly, before the battle had a chance to warm up, the tiger fish circled a sunken tree stump, broke the line, and escaped.

Operation Wild Rose I 97

“I did not think it possible that anyone could entice a tiger fish with a bit of cheese,” said Colonel Jumana. He was sitting on the ground, his back resting against a tree. He held the envelope containing the brief outline of Operation Wild Rose in his hand.

“The bait is irrelevant if the prey is hungry,” said Lusana. He waded back to shore and began tying a new leader to his line.

Jumana rolled on his side and scanned the landscape to see if Lusana’s security guards were properly stationed and alert. It was a wasted gesture. No soldiers served with greater fervor and loyalty. They were lean and hard, picked by Lusana personally, not so much for their fearlessness and rugged physiques as for their intelligence. They stood poised in the underbrush, their weapons held in determined, steady hands.

Lusana turned to resume his casting. “What do you make of it?” he asked.

Jumana stared at the envelope and twisted his face in a skeptical expression.

“A rip-off. A two-million-dollar rip-off.”

“You don’t buy it, then?”

“No, sir. Frankly, I do not.” Jumana rose to his feet and brushed off his combat uniform. “I think this Emma has fed Major Machita cheap bits and pieces as a buildup for the big score.” He shook his head. “This report tells us nothing. It only indicates that the whites are going to launch a major terrorist strike somewhere in the world with a group of blacks posing as AAR followers. The South Africans are not so stupid as to risk international repercussions on such an absurd ploy.”

Lusana cast his line. “But suppose-just suppose-Prime Minister Koertsmann has seen the handwriting on the wall. He might be tempted to take a desperate gamble, a last throw of the dice.”

“But how?” asked Jumana. “Where?”

“The answers to those questions, my friend, come only with two million Yankee dollars.”

“I still only see this Operation Wild Rose as a swindle.”

“Actually, the scheme smacks of genius,” Lusana continued. “If the strike involved heavy casualties, the nation that was the victim would then be provoked into turning their sympathies away from our cause and voting arms and aid for Koertsmann’s government.”

“The questions are unending,” said Jumana. “What nation is singled out as the target?”

98 VIXEN 03p>

“The United States is my guess.”