Vortex (21 page)

“Steve’s right. This is his chance to take the lead on this issue in the public mind. The rest of these fuds up here on the Hill will just thunder and blast without really saying anything. The media wants an American answer to this South African problem. And whoever gives ‘em one is gonna be their fair-haired boy for quite a while. ” George Perlman was Travers’s political advisor and reality check. He’d spent most of the night watching the brainstorming, the arguments only speaking when the discussion wandered or when he felt a fresh viewpoint was needed.

Perlman was a short, balding man dressed in slacks and a pullover sweater.

As a seasoned old campaigner, he was ensconced in the most comfortable chair in the office. He was fifteen years older, but despite their age difference, he and the senator had become friends years ago. It was a friendship cemented by the fact that Perlman had masterminded Travers’s successful reelection campaign.

Perlman continued, “Plus, with the White House moving so slowly on this thing, we can slam the President effectively and pick up some points from the party faithful. And now’s a real good time to do that. We could sure use some firstrate recruiting PR to bring in the volunteers and the big-buck contributors . ”

The men crowded into Travers’s office nodded. As always, Perlman’s political instincts were right on target. The next presidential election might be more than three years away, but three years was the blink of an eye when you were contemplating setting up a national campaign organization. And even though the senator hadn’t yet made up his mind to push for the nomination, he always believed in keeping his options open.

“True. ” Travers’s eyes flickered toward a calendar. Twenty-nine months to the first primaries.

“But I’m still hanging out there without anything new to say.”

He looked back toward one of his legislative aides.

“Got any more ideas,

Ken?”

Ken Blackman was the senior of Travers’s two Foreign Relations Committee staffers. A liberal firebrand since his student days at Brown University, he helped draft the legislation that kept the senator’s name in good standing with the right D.C.based lobbying groups. He was ambitious, and nobody could doubt that he had hitched his wagon firmly to Travers’s rising star.

Short and thin, he paced in the small space available, almost turning in place with every third step.

“I think we should stick with a serious call for deeper, more meaningful sanctions. Not just petty stuff like

Krugerrands, but everything that makes South Africa’s economy tick over.

We could back that up with strong pressure on other countries to cut their own trade with Pretoria even further.”

David Lewin, Travers’s other aide and Blackman’s biggest in-house critic, shook his head.

“Wouldn’t do any good. There isn’t that much left to cut.

Our trade with South Africa is already so low that they won’t miss the rest.” He held a list of Commerce Department import-export figures out in front of him like a shield.

“It would still be symbolic. It would show them we don’t like what they’re doing,” Blackman argued. His nervous pacing accelerated.

Travers wagged a finger at him.

“C’mon, Ken. You know what an Afrikaner thinks of outside opinion. Calling a Boer pigheaded is a compliment over there.”

Lewin nodded.

“Besides, nobody can agree on whether the sanctions we already have in place have any effect positive negative, or none at all.

I’ve seen persuasive arguments for all three cases. And the South Africans aren’t talking. ”

“They were quick enough to ask us to lift them after they let Mandela out of prison!” Blackman’s face was red. Sanctions were the anti apartheid equivalent of the Ten Commandments. Questioning their effectiveness was like asking the pope if he really believed in God.

“Yeah. But they still didn’t make any new reforms when we refused.” Lewin moderated his tone, becoming more conciliatory. The senator was pretty clearly coming down on his side of this argument, so it didn’t make a lot of sense to piss Blackman off any further. After all, they still had to share an office with each other.

“There are too many stronger political forces, local forces, in South Africa for simple economic sanctions to have much effect.”

He shrugged.

“And even if the old Pretoria government could have been influenced by sanctions, how about a hard liner like Vorster? Hell, all we’d probably be doing is giving him new ammunition on the domestic front. Some real ‘circle the wagons, boys, the Uitlanders are coming’ stuff. The diehard Afrikaners lap that up like candy.”

Despite seeing Travers nodding, Blackman tried again.

“Look, I’m not saying a tougher sanctions bill will bring a guy like Vorster to his knees, begging for our forgiveness. But it’s a step our friends on this issue will expect us to take. And if Trans Africa and the rest see us backing off something this bread-and-butter, they’re going to start yelling that we’ve sold out to the ‘do nothing’ crowd over at the White House. ”

A sudden silence showed that he’d hit the mark with that. Political pressure groups had an avid addiction to name-calling They also had notoriously short memories and a tendency to see betrayal in any act of moderation. And with a possible run for the presidency coming up, Travers couldn’t afford to get caught in a mudslinging match with his own allies.

Perlman caught the senator’s eye and motioned gently toward the corner where

Blackman waited, dancing back and forth from foot to foot.

“Good call, Ken,” Travers agreed.

“We’ll work up some more stringent export-import restrictions. Just so long as we all realize they won’t go anywhere and wouldn’t do much good even if we could get ‘em past a presidential veto.”

Blackman nodded, satisfied to have won even a token victory. He started scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad. Lewin looked amused.

One of the lawyers piped up, “Can we put pressure on other countries to do more? How about on the British? They’re South Africa’s largest trading partner.”

Travers shook his head regretfully.

“Not a chance. The Brits have cut back some, but any more sanctions aimed at Pretoria are going to have to be their own idea. The EEC’s been all over them for years, and they’ve never been able to influence London. Besides, the UK’s backed us too many times in some real tight spots. You don’t twist your best friend’s arm. I’d get killed in the full committee if I tried to push a bill like that.”

Blackman looked up from his legal pad, his pen tapping rhythmically against his lower front teeth.

“How about direct financial support for the
ANC
or some of the other black opposition groups?”

The other lawyer, a recent Harvard graduate named Harrison Alvarez, laughed cynically.

“Jesus, the Republicans would love that.”

He mimicked the hushed, breathless tones so common in campaign hit pieces:

“Did you know that Senator Travers supports U.S. taxpayer funding for a terrorist movement with socialist aims?”

Alvarez gestured toward a stack of press clippings on Travers’s desk.

“I

mean, Ken, get real. The
ANC
just killed half the South African government, for Christ’s sake!”

“They deny responsibility,” Blackman retorted.

“You better believe it, after all the heat they’ve taken lately.” Travers shook his head slowly.

“Let’s face facts. The
ANC
is the prime suspect in the attack on Haymans’s train. Now, I wouldn’t put it past a thug like

Vorster to manufacture black guerrilla bodies on demand, but why should he need to?”

He shrugged his shoulders, as if admitting that his own question was unanswerable.

“Besides, even if the ANC’s not responsible for the train massacre, the Republicans would still beat us over the head with it. We have to hold the high ground on this issue-call for popular actions while the administration refuses to move. Feeding money to guys with AK-47s isn’t going to cut it.”

The others muttered their agreement.

Blackman started pacing again.

“Okay, if we can’t affect the South Africans themselves, how about doing something to ease their stranglehold on their next-door neighbors?”

“Like what?” Travers sounded tentative.

Blackman persisted.

“A large-scale aid program for all the countries bordering South Africa. Economic assistance, maybe even military help.”

Lewin stepped in, eager to score a few more points at his rival’s expense.

“We’d still be giving aid to Marxist governments. The Republicans-“in this day and age being a Marxist isn’t a crime. It’s just stupid,”

Perlman cut in. He looked thoughtful.

“It’s a good dynamic. All of those countries are dirt-poor. Even if their governments are corrupt or Marxist or both, we can still show real need.”

He grinned at Travers.

“Yeah, Steve, I can see your speeches now. The

Republicans, using ‘petty politics’ to decide whether or not kids get the food they need. We could do a lot with that. ”

Blackman looked faintly disgusted. The senator’s friend and longtime advisor always saw everything through a tightly focused political lens.

Sometimes it seemed that simple right and wrong escaped his notice.

And Blackman was sure that expanded aid to the front line states was right. South Africa had kept its neighbors weak and poor for far too long-locked into total dependence on the white regime’s industries, transportation system, and power supply. U.S. assistance that reduced that state of helplessness would be the surest way to strike at the Vorster government.

Alvarez looked less certain.

“And how much of any money we send over there is really going to get past these corrupt governments?”

“Who cares?” Travers shrugged.

“Once we’ve passed the dollars on to them, it’s out of our hands. We can find some villages where they’re unloading bags of food, or building roads. We’ll make a trip there, take some dramatic pictures. Should be good for a few TV spots. ” He winked at

Perlman,

Blackman ignored the crasser political implications. They were a necessary part of working in Washington.

“I’d suggest going to

Mozambique. They’ve been trying to build that railroad through to

Zimbabwe for years, but South Africa’s pet guerrilla force, Renamo, keeps blowing it up. If we could help Mozambique finish that rail line

.. .

”

Travers rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Yeah. I like it.” He sat back in his chair and gazed up at the ceiling.

“You know the more I think about this the more I like it. ” He rocked forward.

“Here’s what I see. We put together a good sized package of civilian and military aid for the front line states, focusing on areas hit by South African-backed insurgencies. Say a five or six hundred million dollars’ worth. Enough to really sting Pretoria. I think I can get something like that through the committee without too much trouble. ”

Lewin frowned.

“The Appropriations Committee’s going to be the big stumbling block. Where do we get the money?”

Travers grinned.

“Simple. We reprogram the bucks out of the defense budget. Hell, the administration’s already done that for Nicaragua and

Panama. They’ve set the precedent. We’ll just follow their lead.”

There were broad smiles around the room. It was perfect. Nobody could accuse them of being fiscally irresponsible or boosting the budget deficit. And besides, the defense budget

was fair game these days. Everybody wanted a piece of that pie, and calls for still another slice wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows around

Washington.

Travers paused, considering.

“One thing more. What can South Africa do to retaliate, if we put a major aid program in place?”

“Against us? Nothing.” Blackman’s response was fast, almost automatic.

There was silence for a moment as the rest considered the possibilities.

“Ken’s right,” Perlman said.

“As few dealings as we have with South

Africa, they wouldn’t hurt us by cutting trade from their end.”

“What about strategic minerals?” Alvarez asked.

“The chromium, titanium, and the rest? They could chop sales of those. DoD and Commerce could come down hard about the national security risks from that.”

“And cut their own throats? Not a chance, Harry. They need that foreign credit for the stuff they do buy abroad, especially oil. That’s about the only resource South Africa’s not loaded with.” Travers sighed.

“The world’s treasure house, run by a bunch of political cavemen-”

Blackman broke in.

“The senator’s right. Vorster and his people can’t do squat about an aid bill. Oh, they’ll probably step up their covert activities in the region. More raids, more propaganda-all of which will cost them money and more goodwill. If they keep at it, and if the front line states ever get their act together, South Africa’s gonna be bordered by some powerful enemies.”

Travers decided they had a consensus.

“All right, let’s do it. I want you two to start drafting the specifics.” He pointed to Blackman and Lewin and then glanced at his watch.

“I need an outline in an hour. in the meantime, I’m going to make some phone calls. George?” He looked over at his advisor.

“I like it. Whether this bill passes or not, it’s a political win for us.

I’ll do some calling as well. I’ll take care of the media and the national committee. I think most of the party will like the idea. We’ll give it a big push.” Perlman chuck led.

“Another test of strength with the ‘no-vision’ administration. ”

They all smiled.

AUGUST
6-
NATIONAL
SECURITY
COUNCIL
MEETING
,
THE
WHITE
HOUSE

When the Vice President entered the room, all conversation ceased, both by custom and by design.
NSC
meetings were supposed to start on time and their participants didn’t like wasting precious minutes exchanging meaningless pleasantries. Those were reserved for Washington’s favorite indoor sport-the high-powered, late-evening cocktail party. Working hours were for work.