He had set his snares with all the skill at his command. The banning orders, five hundred of them, were already made out. The men and women to whom they were addressed would be driven out from society into the wilderness. Prohibited from attending a goth.
ering of more than three persons, physically confined to a single magisterial district, prohibited also from publishing a single written word and prevented from having their spoken word published by anyone else, their treacherous and treasonable voices would be effectively gagged. That was how he would deal with the lesser enemy, the smaller game of this hunt.
For the others, the fifty big game, the dangerous ones, he had other weapons ready. The warrants of arrest had been drawn up and the charges framed. Amongst them were high treason and furthering the aims of international communism, conspiracy to overthrow the government by violent revolution, incitement to public violenceand these, if proven, led directly to the gallows tree. Complete success was there, almost within his grasp, but at any moment it could be snatched away.
At that moment a voice was raised so loudly in the operations room beyond the cubicle windows that they all looked up. Even Manfred swung his head towards the sound and narrowed his pale eyes. The officer who had spoken was sitting with his back to the window holding the telephone receiver to his ear, and scribbling on the notepad on the desk in front of him. Now he slammed the receiver back on to its bracket, ripped the top sheet off the pad and hurried into the map room.
'What is it."?" demanded the super.
'We've got him, sir." The man's voice was shrill with excitement.
'We've got Moses Gama. He is in Port Elizabeth. Less than two hours ago he was at the head of a riot at the New Brighton railway station. The police were attacked, and were forced to open fire in self-defence. At least seven people have been killed, one of them a nun. She was horribly mutilated - there is even an unconfirmed report that she was cannibalized - and her body has been burned." 'Are they sure it was him?" Manfred asked.
'No doubt, Minister. He was positively identified by an informer who knows him personally and the police captain has identified him by file and photograph." 'All right,' Manfred De La Rey said. 'Now we can move." He looked down at the commissioner of police at the far end of the long table. 'Do it, please, Commissioner,' he said, and picked up his dark fedora hat from the table. 'Report to me the moment you have them all locked up." He rode up in the lift to ground level and his chauffeur-driven limousine was waiting to take him back to his office in the Union Buildings. As he settled back against the leather-padded rear seat and the limousine pulled away, he smiled for the first time that morning.
'A nun,' he said aloud. 'And they ate her!" He shook his head with satisfaction. 'Let the bleeding hearts of the world read that and know what kind of savages we are dealing with." He felt the good winds of his fortune freshen, bearing him away towards those places which only recently he had allowed himself to dream of." When they got back to the mission, Moses helped Tara out of the Packard. She was still pale and shaking like a woman with malaria.
Her clothing was ripped and soiled with blood and dirt, and she could hardly stand unaided.
Kitty Godolphin and her camera crew had escaped the wrath of the mob by running across the railway tracks and hiding in a stormwater drain, then working their way in a wide circle back to the mission.
'We've got to get out of here,' Kitty yelled at Tara as she came out on to the verandah and saw Moses helping her up the steps. 'I've got the most incredible footage of my life. I can't trust it to anybody else. I want to get on the Pan Am flight from Jo'burg tomorrow morning and take the undeveloped cans to New York myself." She was so excited that her voice shook wildly, and like Tara her denim jeans were torn and dusty. However, she was already packed and ready to leave, carrying the red canvas tote bag that was all her luggage.
'Did you film the nun?" Moses demanded. 'Did you film them killing Sister Nunziata?" 'Sure did, sweetheart!" Hank grinned. He was close behind Kitty.
'Got it all." 'How many cans did you shoot?" Moses insisted.
'Four." Hank was so excited he could not stand still. He was bouncing on his toes and snapping his fingers.
'Did you get the police shooting?" 'All of it, sweetheart, all of it." 'Where is the film of the nun?" Moses demanded.
'Still in the camera." Hank slapped the A rriflex that hung by his side. 'It's all here, baby. I had just changed film when they grabbed the nun and ripped her up." Moses left Tara leaning against the column of the verandah, and crossed to where Hank stood. He moved so casually that none of them realized what he was about to do. Kitty was still talking.
'If we leaYe right away, we can be in Jo'burg by tomorrow morning.
The Pan Am flight leaves at 11.30--' Moses had reached Hank's side. He seized the heavy camera, twisting the carrying strap so that Hank was pulled up on his toes helplessly, and he unclipped the round magazine of film from its seat on top of the camera body. Then he turned and smashed the magazine against the brick column of the verandah.
Kitty realized what he was doing and she flew at him like an angry cat, clawing for his eyes with her nails. 'My film,' she screeched.
'God damn you to hell, that's any film." Moses shoved her so violently that she collided with Hank, taking him off balance and they fell over each other, sprawling together on the verandah floor.
Moses hit the magazine again and this time the can burst open.
The ribbon of glistening celluloid spilled out and cascaded over the retaining wall.
'You've ruined it,' Kitty screamed, coming to her feet and charging at him.
Moses tossed the empty can away, and caught Kitty's wrists, lifting her bodily off the ground and holding her effortlessly, though she struggled and kicked at him.
'You have the film of police brutality, the murder of innocent blacks,' he said. 'The rest of it you were not meant to witness. I will not let you show that to the world." He pushed her away. 'You may take the Packard." Kitty glared at him, massaging her wrists where the skin was red from his grip and she spat like a cat.
'I won't forget that - one day you will pay for that, Moses Gama." Her malignancy was chilling.
'Go,' Moses commanded. 'You have a plane to catch." For a moment she hesitated, and then she whirled, picked up her tote bag.
'Come on, Hank,' she called, and she ran down the stairs to the Packard and sprang into the driver's seat.
'You cock-sucking bastard,' Hank hissed at Moses as he passed.
'That was the best stuff I ever scored." 'You've still got three cans,' Moses said softly. 'Be grateful for that." Moses watched them drive away in the Packard and then turned to Tara.
'We must move very fast now - the police will act at once. We have to get out of the township before they cordon it off. I am a marked man - we have to get clear." 'What do you want me to do?" Tara asked.
'Come, I'll explain later,' Moses said and hustled her towards the Buick. 'First, we must get clear." Tara gave the salesman a cheque and waited in the tiny cubicle of his office that stank of cheap cigar smoke while he phoned her bank in Cape Town.