Operation Alicia Mae August 1992

27

After Weber and De Villiers had lost the previous round so decisively, a change of tactics was required. They found an exit strategy in the admiralty rules, which allowed them to file their own arrest papers and to bring an application for the sale of the ship. The Alicia Mae was technically army property, although registered in De Villiers’s name as a subterfuge. They both expected the Minister of Defence, the nominal defendant representing the SADF, to prevail in the long run, but they were not interested in the long run. All they wanted was a quick but honourable exit.

They prepared the application papers in some haste, but did not file them at court as the rules required. Instead Weber phoned his friend at the state attorney’s office.

‘Graham,’ he said when he had been put through, ‘we’ve issued our own arrest papers and have also prepared an application for the sale of the boat by public auction and the establishment of a fund to be kept under the control of the registrar until we have completed the litigation, but we haven’t filed the originals at court. I’m sending a copy to you by hand, Graham, for you to consider and to let us know whether we should file them at court where they will become part of the public record of the case.’

‘Ah,’ the senior deputy state attorney said. ‘There must be something special in them. What is it? Give me a preview, all off the record, of course.’

‘Long story short,’ Weber said. ‘The boat is a fishing boat acquired with state funds and converted at SADF expense for a special operation.’

‘What sort of operation?’

‘That we don’t know,’ Weber said. ‘But it is sure to come out when the ship is appraised by a ship’s surveyor to determine its value so that we can set a reserve to be achieved at auction.’

‘Let me take instructions,’ Graham said. ‘God knows, we have taken quite a few knocks in recent months with all sorts of illegal operations being exposed. I know for a fact that the minister is very worried that there might be a rogue element within the SADF working underground with the security police to destabilise the country as much as possible before De Klerk hands over power to Mandela.’

‘Why would they want to do that?’ Weber asked, but at the back of his mind he knew the answer. ‘The minister must know what’s going on,’ he insisted. ‘After all, he has to account for the expenditure. And they must have needed a lot of money to buy the boat, refit her, sail her back here with a crew, and for the further plans they had with her. These things cost money, and the money can always be traced to its source. In this case, the minister and his generals.’

‘No, Johann, I can tell you this much, all off the record of course. A lot of money was provided outside the SADF’s usual financial reporting channels to be used for special operations, all cleared by the proper Treasury approvals. But about half of the money has disappeared and now they can’t even trace the operators to whom the money was entrusted. No one is telling what operations are still current, and they have no means of finding out.’

‘Who is behind this, do you think?’

‘Third Force, no doubt,’ Graham replied.

‘There is no such thing,’ Johann Weber said. ‘It’s a convenient scapegoat for the black-on-black violence in this province.’

‘As sure as God made little green apples, Johann, it exists. And off the record, I’ve been putting out their fires for quite a while now.’

It took less than an hour to settle the matter and to commit the agreement to writing.

Weber and De Villiers had to fly to Pretoria for the final meeting. There were men around the table De Villiers had never seen before. Men who watched and said nothing. High-ranking officers, he thought. So high that they didn’t have to wear uniforms. A woman who could only be from national intelligence. Maybe a lawyer, but she didn’t say anything. And the major. His old friend, the major. Who also said nothing. He looked as if he was in the dock, and didn’t make eye contact with any of the others.

Johann Weber did the talking, and the responses and counteroffers came via the state attorney. But not before he had glanced at the man at the head of the table. An admiral, De Villiers thought. The top dog there. The message was clear: we want this operation to be closed down at all costs, with no further risk of exposure in the courts. Whatever it takes.

The SADF was to keep the Alicia Mae and pay all her port expenses. De Villiers was to resign his commission as an officer of the SADF and retire on full pension with immediate effect and promotion by one rank to major as a combat veteran on full SADF medical aid for life. The SADF was to pay him the one million rand he had been promised against him signing the necessary documents over to them, so that they could have the boat registered in the name of their nominee, and could withdraw all the funds from the Hamburg and Zurich bank accounts in his name. The accounts were to be closed upon the last withdrawal or transfer of funds. Both sides were to keep the settlement confidential, and all copies of the application papers were to be destroyed under the supervision of the state attorney’s office.

It was Weber’s idea that the money they had to pay De Villiers should be paid into his personal bank account in Hamburg. ‘You never know when you might need it,’ he said.

The major sat silent throughout the course of the negotiations. When Johann Weber extended his hand to shake on the agreement, the major folded his arms. ‘I have a message for you,’ he said. ‘Both of you. Gentlemen don’t get angry. They get even.’

Weber had frowned. He had heard those words before.

Less than a month later, Johann Weber spoke at the funeral of his sister and her children. Pierre de Villiers was still in a coma in 1 Military Hospital at Voortrekkerhoogte.