36

The mention of Project Circle only increased Johan’s unease about the mission. He’d been deceived plenty of times in the past, all to get him to ply his skills. The last man who’d done it was the American he’d worked for a year ago. The one who’d given him his H-1B visa, which had caused the Lesotho security men to spike. That American had caused the death of many, many innocents and had attempted to use Johan to cover up his transgressions. Johan had unfortunately done so before learning the truth, and then had slaughtered the man in his office, leaving his broken body as a warning to others.

What does South Africa’s nuclear program have to do with Lesotho?

“So this guy, our mundane contact in the diamond exchange, was intimately involved in our development of nuclear weapons?”

“Yes.”

“And that doesn’t give you concerns about what happened in Tel Aviv?”

“No. It gives me confidence. He would know if it was anything more than bad luck and unforeseen skill.”

Johan nodded, saying nothing. Armstrong said, “What’s going through your mind?”

“It just sounds more complicated than a simple coup in Lesotho. More in play here.”

Armstrong leaned over the table, getting eye to eye. He said, “It is more complicated, but not for you. You do your mission, and don’t worry about the rest. That’s my problem.”

Johan nodded, now wishing he had two fingers of scotch instead of coffee. He said, “Who’s taking over in Lesotho? Why are we being hired?”

“The diamond merchant hired us for the oldest reason on earth—money. As for who’s taking over, it’s nothing but more of the same from all over the continent. Someone wants power. The prime minister is as corrupt as a rusty nail. His deputy will assume the position, with General Mosebo remaining as the true power as the head of the LDF, and the king will remain the king. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. A transfer from one asshole to another.”

“And the country? What will happen when we’re successful?”

Armstrong looked at him with true mirth and said, “Seriously? Don’t tell me Lily Boy is now concerned with the local population.”

Johan glanced away and said, “I’ve seen bad go to worse.” He turned back to Colonel Armstrong. “And so have you.”

Armstrong slapped his shoulder and said, “Don’t worry about it here. The government will function just like it did. All we’re doing is replacing one man with another.”

Johan nodded, then said, “What about the man we captured? The Israeli?”

“What about him?”

“I wanted to keep him alive for bargaining in case something went wrong, but given this information, I think it’s a risk. I say we smoke him.”

Armstrong considered, toying with his cup. He said, “No. We leave him in Mosebo’s hands. Right now, we’re cut from him. If things go well, we’ll let Mosebo deal with him. If they go wrong, we still have a bargaining chip with the Israelis.”

Johan glared at him and said, “I thought the Israelis didn’t matter.”

Armstrong slapped a hand on the table in irritation, causing the coffee cups to jump. Johan didn’t react, keeping his stare. Armstrong said, “Just do what I ask. You’re hired for a single mission. A tactical mission. Get me the plan, and execute.”

Johan nodded, took a sip of his coffee, and said, “Okay, sir. I can do that. How are we looking for armament?”

A couple took a seat at the table next to theirs, and Armstrong rose, saying, “Come. Follow me back to my car.”

They left the restaurant’s patio and circled around the statue of Cecil Rhodes, seeing the gang from earlier lying in the grass like a pack of mongrel dogs.

They entered a secluded path on the edge of the wood line, and Armstrong said, “Andy just went to get the key for the warehouse. He’ll report back, but I don’t see any hiccups.”

Johan said, “Who’s he getting the key from? Who else is involved?”

“It’s the same guy who got us the safe house in Durban. He works for the man providing the weapons and equipment.”

Johan glanced at the colonel but said nothing. Armstrong said, “What?”

“Do you trust this American?”

“He’s done what he’s said he’d do so far.”

Johan broke a stick off a tree and tossed it. He said, “I don’t like working with him. What’s he gaining? Why’s he involved? Money makes people do strange things.”

Armstrong said, “He’s not getting money.”

“What, then?”

“Don’t worry about it. That’s my problem.”

“Come on, sir, what’s he getting out of this?”

Armstrong stopped on the trail, looked at Johan, and said, “He’s getting something from my connections in the South African Defence Force. Something that they no longer need but he can use.”

“You have the SANDF involved in this? How?”

“I had to get the SANDF involved precisely to prevent them from invading Lesotho because of our coup. They’re worried about the interruption of the flow of water. I’m working with the army headquarters, just letting them know what we’re doing and assuring them that that won’t happen. Using my connections to prevent mission failure. The American is greasing the skids with money.”

Johan nodded, saying, “Okay, sir, that makes sense, but I wish you’d include me on the overarching plans.”

Armstrong chuckled and said, “Johan, you’re good, but you’re only a tool. Let me worry about the bigger picture. You just execute your plan. That’s all you’re being paid for, and all you need to worry about.”

Johan bit out, “Fine, but my tactical operation is predicated on your strategic decisions. You didn’t answer the question. What is the American getting from them?”

Armstrong sighed and said, “Look, Johan, not everything is black-and-white like you want. Sometimes we have to do what we don’t like, but if it’ll alleviate your angst, I’m meeting him tonight. Why don’t you come as well? Feel him out. Get some confidence in the mission.”

Johan said nothing for a moment, then, “Okay. Where?”

“The old castle. The ceremonial guard out there is actually active-duty army recruits. There’s a SANDF recruiting station in the back.” Armstrong laughed and said, “My SANDF contact didn’t want to be seen with me on the streets. Imagine that.”

There was a rustling in the brush, and the mongrel pack of youths appeared, led by Nike Sweats. Armstrong became quiet, waiting on them to pass. When they didn’t, he said, “What the fuck do you kaffirs want?”

Nike Sweats nodded at Johan and said, “He knows, old man.”

Johan said, “I paid you. I’ve already paid.”

“Yes. You have. But he hasn’t.”

Johan said, “You remember what I said earlier? That not everyone is prey? You’re looking at it right now.”

Nike Sweats said, “Yeah, I heard you. I just didn’t believe it.” The men circled around them, and Johan knew they were committed, but he still believed there was a way out. He looked at Armstrong and saw the violence beginning to build just below the surface. He said, “Sir, don’t.”

Nike Sweats and one other closed in tight, the rest remaining in a loose circle, sure of their numbers. Armstrong shook his head and said, “Lily Boy, like I said, sometimes we do things we don’t like. Distasteful things.”

He curled his knuckles into a flat ledge and lashed out, his fist striking as fast as the head of a snake, spearing into Nike Sweats’s throat. Johan heard a hoarse bark, and the man dropped to the ground, rolling and attempting to scream. All that came out was a guttural moan.

Armstrong turned to the man next to him. The boy brought his hands up in a pathetic attempt at defense, and Armstrong grabbed the lead one, twisting his hand backward and locking up the joint. Armstrong looked into his eyes and said, “Jump, kaffir,” then rotated the wrist in a circle, against the way it was designed.

The boy felt the pain like an electric current and literally leapt off his feet to stop it. Armstrong rotated forward and down, and the boy flipped over, hammering the ground on his back. Armstrong let go of his wrist and slammed his fists into the man’s face, once, twice, three times. Johan saw his head snap back, bouncing off the gravel, and his eyes roll in his head.

Armstrong stood, turned to the remaining youths, and said, “You fucks want to die today, keep pushing.”

They ran, exploding away like confetti out of a popped balloon.

Johan said, “That wasn’t necessary.”

Armstrong said, “Bullshit it wasn’t. There was a time those kaffirs wouldn’t have dared to even approach. I saw it in Rhodesia, and I see it here. They need to learn who’s the boss. Something you failed to show them.”

Johan simply nodded, but he saw another side of the man he worked for.

And he didn’t like it.