“One of my operatives reports that he is driving the shipyard workers like a sadist,” replied Zeegler. “I cannot help but think the good captain will launch Wild Rose at the required time.”

“What of his black crew?”

“They are under tight security on a cargo freighter moored off a remote island in the Azores.” Zeegler sat down across from De Vaal before continuing. “When all is in readiness, the crew will be smuggled on board Fawkes’s ship.”

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“Will they be familiar with the operation of the vessel?”

“Training is being conducted with mock-ups on the freighter. Each man will know his job when Fawkes casts off the mooring lines.”

“What have the men been told?”

“They think they have been recruited to pick up the ship for sea trials and gunnery practice before sailing it on to Cape Town.”

De Vaal sat in concentration for a moment. “A pity we can’t have Lusana as a passenger.”

“The possibility exists,” said Zeegler.

De Vaal looked up. “Are you serious?”

“My sources say he has left for the United States,” Zeegler replied. “Trailing him through Africa and knowing his exact traveling schedule in advance is next to impossible. He can slip out of the continent virtually undetected at will. But he cannot slip in without showing himself. When he leaves the States, I will be waiting.”

“Abduction.” De Vaal said the word slowly, savoring each syllable. “The very bonus that would make Operation Wild Rose virtually foolproof.”

36

The BEZA-Mozambique overseas airliner pivoted off the main runway onto a seldom-used taxi strip and dipped its nose as the pilot applied the brakes. The boarding hatch swung open and a baggage handler wearing white coveralls and a red baseball cap stepped from the evening darkness and attached an aluminum ladder to the fuselage. A figure stooped in the light streaming from the interior of the plane, dropped a large suitcase to the man on the ground, and climbed down after it. Then the hatch closed and the ladder was removed. The engines picked up their whine and the plane rolled off in the direction of the Dulles Airport international terminal.

No conversation was exchanged as the baggage handler passed the stranger a spare set of coveralls, which were quickly donned. They climbed aboard a small tractor that had four empty carrier carts attached to its rear hitch and steered a course to the maintenance section of the field. After a few minutes of dodging parked aircraft, the tractor pulled up to a floodlit gate. A guard leaned out at their approach and, upon recognizing the driver, stifled a yawn and waved them through. The

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