"You are quite correct, Colonel. The modified Stinger is the only weapon that has proved effective against the Hind. That's your task, the price of your freedom. I want you to procure a shipment of Stingers for me."
Sean stopped dead and stared at him. Then he began to smile.
"Certainly," he said. "A piece of cake. Do you have a preference for color and flavor? How about baboon-ball blue and kiwi fruit?"
For the first time that morning China smiled back at him. "The Stingers are here already. It's simply a matter of picking them up."
Sean's grin faded. "I hope, most fervently, that this is a joke. I know Savimbi has been given Stingers by the Yanks, but Angola is on the other side of the continent."
"Our Stingers are much closer than that," China assured him.
"Do you remember the old Rhodesian Air Force base at Grand ReefT" "I should." Sean nodded. "The Scouts operated out of there for almost a year."
"Of course I remember." China touched the lobe of his ear beneath the gaudy beret. "It was from there you launched the attack on my camp at Inhlozane." His expression was suddenly bleak.
"That was in another war," Sean reminded him.
China's expression relaxed. "As I was saying, the Stingers we want are at Grand Reef."
"I don't understand." Sean shook his head. "The Yanks would never give Stingers to Mugabe. He is a Marxist and there i no deep love between Zimbabwe and the U.S. It doesn't make sense.
"Oh yes, it does," China assured him. "In a roundabout African way, it makes good sense" He glanced at his watch. "Teatime," he said.
"I believe you were asking for a brew this morning. No matter what side we were on, the war made us all tea addicts."
China led them back to his command bunker. Immediately an orderly brought in the smoke-blackened kettle.
"The Americans dislike Mugabe, but they dislike the South Africans more," China explained. "Mugabe is harboring and assisting ANC guerrillas operating across his borders into South Africa."
Sean nodded grimly. He had seen photographs of the carnage created by a limpet mine detonated in a South African supermarket; it had happened on the last Friday of the month, payday for monthly workers, when the store was crowded with housewives and their offspring, both black and white.
"The South Africans have vowed to pursue the guerrillas wherever they run. They have already repeatedly made good that threat, hot pursuit across the borders of all their neighbors. The ANC have announced their intention of stepping up their bombing of soft civilian targets. Mugabe knows what the consequences will be, so he wants a weapon to deal with the South African Puma gunships when they cross his border to cull the ANC."
"I still don't believe the Yanks would supply him with Stingers," Sean said flatly.
"Not directly," China agreed. "But the British are training Mugabe's army for him. They are the middlemen. They have got the Stingers from the Americans, and they are training Mugabe's crack Third Brigade to use them at Grand Reef."
"How the hell do you know all this?"
"You must remember that I was once a minister, albeit a junior one, in Mugabe's cabinet. I still have good friends in high places."
Sean thought about it. "You are right." He nodded. "It is all typically African. So the Stingers are at Grand Reef."
"They were delivered by a Royal Air Force Hercules fourteen days ago and are scheduled to be deployed along the South African and Zimbabwean border by the beginning of next month.
They will be aimed at your countrymen, Colonel Courtney."
Sean felt a stirring of patriotic outrage, but he kept his expression neutral.
"The training is being conducted by Royal Artillery personnel, a captain and two NCOs, so you will begin to understand why I require a white face for my plans."
"It certainly begins to sound ominous," Sean muttered. "Tell me what it is exactly that you require."
"I want you to go back to Zimbabwe and bring me those Stinger missiles."
Sean showed no emotion as he asked, "In exchange?"
"Once the missiles are delivered to me, I will remove the manacles from Miss Monterro and transfer her to quarters where you will be able to visit her regularly"-he paused and allowed himself a knowing smile-"and spend some time with her each day or evening in private."
"What about our release?"
"Yes," China agreed. "All three of you will be released after you have performed one additional service for me-after first obtaining the Stingers."
"And what is that service?"
China held up both hands. "One thing at a time, Colonel Courtney.
The missiles first. Once you have delivered them, we will discuss the final part of our bargain."
Sean scowled into his tea mug as he turned it over in his mind, trying to find some vantage point to adopt, but China interrupted him.
"Colonel, every minute you waste merely prolongs Miss Monterro's'-he searched for the correct word-"her discomfort.
Until I have those missiles, she will wear her manacles night and day, waking or sleeping, eating or performing 0 the other essential functions of life. I suggest you begin immediately laying out your plans to procure them for me."
Sean stood up and went to the large-scale wall map behind China's desk. He didn't really need to study it. He could have closed his eyes and visualized every valley and peak, every wrinkle of land along the border between Mozambique and Zimbabwe.