Mission of Honor

Chapter Sixty-Four

Henry Genet watched the sun rise.

The Belgian diamond merchant was sitting in a comfortable armchair in his room at the Gaborone Sun Hotel and Casino on Julius Nyerere Drive. He was drinking coffee he had made in the in-room coffeemaker. His chair was angled so that he could see both the sun and the imposing National Stadium, which was located to the southeast.

There were no swarming or biting insects. There were no birds or amphibians vocalizing. Just the hum of the air conditioner, which was turned on high. This was far, far better than the hut and canvas cot he had been forced to endure in the swamp.

If only things had worked out differently.

Genet had flown back to the city in his small plane. Then he had come here to wait for a flight to London on Monday. He had left the camp harboring doubts about whether Dhamballa would be able to reach the mine for his rally. Upon reaching the hotel, he turned on the radio. There was news about a showdown on the salt pan. It claimed that the abducted Catholic priest had been rescued. The report also quoted the military commander in Gaborone as declaring that the Brush Vipers had been dispersed and their leader slain. He concluded by saying that the "minor cult leader" Dhamballa had disappeared. Officials presumed that he was in hiding and would probably attempt to flee the country. The government wanted to reassure everyone that order had been restored.

Of course they did, Genet thought.

But they were wrong.

Genet took a sip of coffee from the white ceramic cup. He contemplated the things that he and his partners would be doing over the next few months. These things would have been quicker and easier with a revolution in Botswana. A revolt that would have spread to South Africa and the rest of the African nations. A war that would have required countless weapons and ammunition provided to both sides by Albert Beaudin. A war that would have given Genet and his partners the diamond mines as well as access to countless ore-producing sites.

A war that would have given them the money to ramp up for the bigger war they hoped would come. That war would have left them poised to become one of the most powerful military-industrial consortiums in world history.

Now Beaudin and his people would have to settle for something else or find another way.

Genet was tired, but he could not go to sleep. He had to call his partners in Paris. They had to be informed, before they heard it on the news, that they had failed to put a puppet in a place of power. Genet was bracing himself to make that call. This operation was under his direct supervision. Beaudin and the others would not be pleased.

Beyond the failure to elevate Dhamballa, what bothered Genet most was what did happen here. The Brush Vipers had not assassinated the American bishop. His own people had not killed him. Theoretically, the Vatican could have shot him to rally support. But apart from being against God's law, a move like that would be politically insane. If it were ever revealed that the Church had acted, they would be crippled for decades. Perhaps the Chinese had some idea who had done it. Beaudin would have to ask his contacts there. If they would speak with him. For they, too, lost with the failure of the Vodun movement. They were going to share in the growth of Beaudin's industries. Many of the new factories would have been located in China. Beijing would not only have earned profits, they would have benefited from the development of new weapons.

Genet looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly six-thirty. He would place the call at seven. Beaudin would just be waking up then to check the stock markets in Asia.

The diamond merchant took another swallow of coffee. He glanced at the package he had made it from. Ironically, it was a French blend.

Henry Genet's world seemed strangely inverted. He had no idea how the Group would proceed. Yet he still knew one thing.

He knew how the matter would end.