"I'm more inclined to believe Hiram Lusana is fighting to advance his private bank account."

Felicia smiled derisively. "You disappoint me Congressman. If you'd bothered to do your homework, you'd know that is simply not true."

Daggat stiffened. The gauntlet had been thrown.

He released her head and moved until his face was only a few inches from hers. "With half the world watching the African nations, waiting and wondering when they are going to get their circus act together and remove the last bastion of white supremacy, who should appear like a messiah from the wilderness, offering a proverb for every occasion, but none other than your friendly international drug smuggler Hiram Lusana. Like a revelation in the night, he unloads his thriving operation and takes up the cause of the poor foul-smelling black rabble of South Africa.

"Reinforced now by gullible black opinion and touted by a world press hungry for a personality, any personality, handsome Hiram suddenly finds his smiling face on the covers of no fewer than fourteen magazines with a combined circulation of over sixty million. Thus the sun shines down from heaven and Hiram Lusana is adored by Bible beaters everywhere for his devout piety; foreign state departments vie for his presence at parties; he demands and receives fabulous fees on the lecture circuit; and suckers like you, Ms. Collins. from the entertainment world, kiss his ass and scratch for a percentage of the box office limelight."

Anger flared in Felicia's lovely features. "You're being deliberately offensive."

"Nakedly honest, perhaps." Daggat paused and enjoyed Felicia's uneasiness for a moment. "And what do you think will happen if Lusana should win his war and the white racist government in South Africa surrenders? Will he, like Cincinnatus, renounce his generalship and return to the plow? Not likely. There is little doubt in my mind that he'll proclaim himself president and launch a virtual dictatorship. Then, with the enormous resources of Africa's most advanced country in his pocket, he'll shift the grand crusade into reverse and either by force or by subterfuge gobble up the weaker black nations."

"You're blind," she said harshly. "Hiram guides his life by high morals. I find it unthinkable that he would ever consider selling out his ideals for personal gain."

Felicia did not see the caution in Daggat's eyes. "I can prove it, Ms. Collins, and all it will cost you — financially, that is — if you lose is one Yankee dollar."

"You're fishing in a barren lake, Congressman. You obviously do not know the general."

"Bet me."

She thought a moment and then looked up. "You're on."

Daggat bowed gallantly and escorted her to where Lusana was talking tactics with an officer of the Mozambique Army. Lusana broke off his conversation at their approach and greeted them. "Ah, my two fellow Americans. I see you've met."

"May I talk with you and Ms. Collins alone for a moment, General?" asked Daggat.

"Why, yes, of course."

Lusana excused himself from the Army officer and led the way into a small study comfortably furnished in an Afro-modern motif.

"Very nice," said Daggat.

"My favorite style of decor." Lusana motioned them to sit down. "And why not? Is it not based on our ancestral native designs?"

"Personally, I prefer the new Egyptian creations," said an indifferent Daggat.

"What is it you wish to discuss?" asked Lusana.

Daggat came straight to the point. "If I may be frank, General, the only reason you put on this dog and pony show tonight was in the hope of conning me into exerting my influence with the House Foreign Affairs Committee on behalf of the AAR. Agreed?"

Lusana could not conceal a cornered look, but he remembered to be courteous. "My apologies, Congressman. I did not mean to be so obvious. Yes, I did hope to persuade you to lend your support to our cause. But a con job? No way. I am not fool enough to attempt to stuff cotton in the ears of a man with your reputation for shrewdness."

"So much for preliminaries. What's in it for me?"

Lusana stared at Daggat with fascination. Such directness was hardly what he'd expected. His plans called for a more circuitous seduction. Now he was caught off guard. An out-and-out request for graft left him stunned. He decided to play coy in order to gain time to think.

"I miss your point, Congressman."

"No big deal, really. If you want me on your team, it's going to cost you."

"I still don't understand."

"Cut the jive, General. You and I came from the same gutter. We haven't shoved aside poverty and discrimination to get where we are without picking up any smarts along the way."

Lusana turned away and slowly, meticulously lit a cigarette. "Do you wish me to open the negotiations with an offer for your services?"

"That won't be necessary. I already have a… ah… figure in mind."

"Please name it."

A smile lifted the corner of Daggat's lips. "Ms. Collins."

Lusana looked up, puzzled. "And a very comely figure at that. But I fail to see what she — "

"You give me Felicia Collins and I'll see to it my committee votes favorably on funding an arms program for your revolution."

Felicia leaped to her feet, her mahogany eyes ablaze. "I don't believe this."

"Consider it as a small sacrifice on behalf of a noble crusade," said Daggat sarcastically.

"Hiram, for God's sake," she snapped, "tell this turkey to pack up and ship out."

Lusana did not reply immediately. He gazed down at his lap and brushed off an imaginary piece of lint from a razor-creased pant leg. Finally he spoke in a soft voice. "I'm sorry, Felicia, but I can't allow sentimental feelings to enter into this."

"What crap! " She stared at him, her expression devoid of belief. "You're both mad, raving mad, if you think you can pass me around like a bowl of grits."

Lusana rose and came over and brushed his lips across her forehead.

"Do not hate me." He faced Daggat. "Congressman, enjoy your spoils."

Then he walked from the room.

For a long moment Felicia stood there, her face a study in mixed hostility and confusion; then understanding came and her eyes filled with tears. She made no protest, no gesture of resistance, as Daggat gently pulled her close and kissed her.

"You bastard," she whispered. "You rotten bastard. I hope you're satisfied."

"Not quite yet."

"You've won your pound of flesh. What more do you want?"

He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed her misting eyes.

"You forget," he said, grinning sardonically. "You still owe me a dollar."

21

Pieter De Vaal closed the report folder on the Fawkes-farm massacre. His face was drawn and tired as he looked up. "I'm still shocked by this dreadful tragedy. It was so senseless."

Fawkes remained impassive. He sat across the desk from the Defence Minister and tamped the tobacco in his old pipe. The room fell silent; only the muted noise of Pretoria's traffic seeped through the large windows overlooking Burger Park.

At last De Vaal slipped the folder into a drawer and avoided Fawkes's eyes as he spoke. "I regret that our patrols failed to catch the savages who were responsible."

"Only one man was responsible," said Fawkes grimly. "The men who slaughtered my family were acting under his orders."