Free Rhodesia by Nick Carter Page A

independence. And sound business conditions."
    "He mentioned something about it."
    "A brave man, too. In his way. The way the Roman legionnaires were brave. A sort of half-interested patriotism."
    "I thought he'd have made a fine Confederate cavalryman," Nick said, following the lead. "You get the philosophy by putting courage, ideals, and greed in a Waring blendor."
    "Waring blendor?" van Prez asked.
    "A machine that whips them all together," Mrs. Ryerson explained. "It stirs everything into a sort of soup."
    Van Prez nodded, imagining the process. "It fits. And they can never be separated again. We have a lot like that."
    "But not you," Nick said carefully. "I imagine your point of view is — more reasonable." He glanced at John Johnson.
    "Reasonable? Some call it treasonable. For the record let's say I can't make up my mind."
    Nick doubted that the mind behind those sharp eyes was ever unmade for very long. "I understand it's a very complicated situation."
    Van Prez poured a dash of whiskey into their glasses. "It is that. Whose independence comes first? You had a similar problem with the Indians. Should we solve it your way?"
    Nick refused to be drawn into that one. When he was silent Mrs. Ryerson interjected, "Are you just conducting the tour, Mr. Grant? Or do you have other —
interests
here?"
    "I've often thought of going into the gold business. Wilson turned me down when I tried to buy some. I hear the Taylor-Hill-Boreman Mining Company has made new strikes. Maybe they'll be more interested."
    "I'd stay away from them if I were you," van Prez said quickly.
    "Why?"
    "They have markets for everything they produce. And they are a tough crowd, with firm political connections. It's rumored that other things go on behind the gold facade — strange rumors of assassins for hire. If they catch you the way we did, you won't just be netted. You wont survive."
    "And where does that leave you as a Rhodesian patriot?"
    Van Prez shrugged. "On balance."
    "Did you know that people also say they are financing the new Nazis? They contribute to the Odessa fund, support half a dozen dictators — with both guns and gold."
    "I've heard. I don't necessarily believe."
    "Is it improbable?"
    "Why would they sell to Communists and finance Fascists?"
    "What better joke? First you dump the Socialists, using their own money to bankroll your blows, and then you finish off the democracies at leisure. When it's over they'll build statues of Hitler in every capital of the world. Three hundred feet high. He made it. Just delayed a little while, that's all."
    Van Prez and Mrs. Ryerson looked questioningly at each other. Nick guessed the idea had been around here before. The trills and shrieks of the birds were the only sounds. At last van Prez said, "I must think about that Time for tea." He stood up.
    "And then Booty and I can depart?"
    "You go and have a wash. Mrs. Ryerson will show you the way. About your going, we'll have to have an
indaba
here on the
stoep
about that." He waved a hand that took in all the others.
    Nick shrugged and followed Mrs. Ryerson through the sliding glass doors into the house. She led him down a long hall and pointed to a door. "There."
    Nick whispered, "Biltong is good. Robert Morris should have shipped more to Valley Forge." The name of the American patriot and Washington's winter quarters were AXE identification words.
    Mrs. Ryerson gave the correct answer. "Israel Putnam, the general from Connecticut. You came at a bad time, Grant. Johnson was smuggled in via Tanzania. Tembo and Zanga just came back from Zambia. They have a guerrilla group up in the jungle along the river. They are fighting the Rhodesian army now. and they're doing such a good job the Rhodesians have had to bring in South African troops."
    "Booty brought money?"
    "Yes. She's just a courier. But van Prez may think you have seen too much to be let go. If the Rhodesian police show you pictures of Tembo and Zanga, you could identify them."
    "What do you