Gold to India

At 6:58 a.m., Sunday, 26 December 2004, planet Earth trembled. An underwater earthquake equal to the power of 23,000 Hiroshima atomic bombs shook the world. The deep-water seismic eruption generated ocean swells 50 feet high.They became tsunamis. Tamil Nadu on the Bay of Bengal in south east India was devastated. Villages, towns and cities three miles inland were obliterated.

The Raj's oldest son, Raikar, convinces his father to buy gold directly from the mines to be melted down and cast as floor plates in a plane. In this way the gold can be shipped secretly to the Bay of Bengal as relief funds. Unfortunately, the plane was lost in flight. With it's loss comes betrayal and a class of siblings. Either the money is forever lost or it will be returned to the desperate community of Tamil Nadu, devastated by the tsunamis.

Dov Silverman lives up to the expectations resulting from his five book Fall of the Shogun Best Seller series.

GOLD TO INDIA

By

Dov Silverman

Smashwords edition, copyright 2012

License note All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

A multi-cultural, meticulously researched mystery thriller of extraordinary depth on current life and affairs in South Africa This novel gives the reader a present day perspective and inside account of Hindu, Zulu and Afrikaner societies. Dov Silverman lives up to the expectations resulting from his five book Fall of the Shogun Best Seller series.

PUBLISHED BOOKS BY DOV SILVERMAN

Series of Japanese historical novels (faction based on the real life of John Mung – Mangiro Nakahama. Published in English by Grafton Books and Diamond Books, London, England (appeared on the London Times bestseller list); in German by Droemersche Verlagsanstalt Th. Knaur Nachf; in English large print by Magna Print Books; in Hebrew by Or Am Publishers; in Polish by Amber Publishers.

LEGENDS OF SAFED

1983, ARI Publishers, Safed, Israel.

1985, 1987, 1989, 1991, 1994, Gefen Publishers, Jerusalem, Israel.

THE GOOD SHEPHERDS

1988, sex and violence thriller in Japanese by Bungei Shunju, Tokyo.

Winner of Suntory Award for Mystery Fiction

THE KABBALIST

2008 Gefen Publishers, Jerusalem, Israel

2009 translated to Rumanian and Spanish 2012, Nemira

Gold to India

Dov Silverman

PROLOGUE

THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS:

At 6:58 a.m., Sunday, 26 December 2004, planet Earth trembled.

Six miles below the placid surface of the Indian Ocean and thirty miles off the coast of Sumatra, the Eurasian, Australian and Indian tectonic plates collided. An underwater earthquake equal to the power of 23,000 Hiroshima atomic bombs shook the world. It moved planet earth several inches off its axis.

The deep-water seismic eruption generated ocean swells 50 feet high. The waves traveled 500 miles an hour in all directions. Upon, reaching shallow water, friction against the ocean bottom slowed the giant breakers. They bunched up, reducing their numbers and increasing their size. The waves formed tsunamis. The mountainous waves killed 250 thousand people. They struck as far away as France, Somalia. Japan, India, and the east coast of Africa.

Tamil Nadu on the Bay of Bengal in south east India was devastated. Within minute’s villages, towns and cities three miles inland were obliterated. Eighteen thousand men, women and children died. Thirty thousand more went missing and were later declared dead. A million and a half people were rendered homeless. The drinking water and food supplies were polluted. Rice paddies and farms along the entire coast were destroyed by salt water. Sixty three million people in the Indian state of Tamil Nadu faced death through starvation and waterborne disease.

***

It was 4 am when Colonel Henny Kopp, of South African Army Intelligence arrived at his base outside Johannesburg. He was informed of the catastrophe in India. He dismissed the orderly and put in a wakeup call for 6 am. He’d been drinking and saw the report as irrelevant. He slept fully clothed with loaded automatic under his pillow and fighting knife unsheathed at his side. He’d make morning formation, skip breakfast, sack in another two hours and be at his desk by eight. He let the message fall to the floor thinking, It’s a Hindu problem. Let the Indians figure it out.

Durban, South Africa:

Three hundred miles south-east of Henny Kopp’s army base, Rajnurama Anjali, known as The Raj, wealthiest Indian in all of Africa, organized the largest Hindu population in South Africa for a relief effort to Chennai, the city of his birth and capital of Tamil Nadu. The Raj contributed one million U. S. dollars for himself, another million for his departed wife and a million each for his two sons and daughter. He ordered one of his five cargo ships to Singapore for refitting with emergency operating rooms, and hospital beds. Food and medicines to fight cholera, malaria and typhus. The Raj’s oldest son, Raikar, was to fly from South Africa to Singapore and oversee the ships, medical staff, staples and supplies. The Indian community of South Africa opened their hearts and pocket books. Seventy million dollars flowed into the account of Raj Anjali. He used the independent Anglo Accounting Firm of South Africa to document every deposit.

Problems soon developed. Informal inquiries made to the South African government revealed the government would oppose the transfer of money to an overseas bank (Illegal under South Africa’s currency regulations). The Minister of Finance hinted at a five percent kickback for him, ten percent for the Prime Minister with another five percent for the Ministers of Defense and Transportation it could be arranged.

Fifteen million dollars meant to help the survivors would be lost in bribes. Raikar Anjali, the Raj’s oldest son and acting head of the Rajnurama Congolorate, repeated his father’s favorite saying, Every problem presents an opportunity. Raikar suggested, "Buy gold directly from the S. African mines at a reduced price of $372 an ounce. Smelt it down and cast it into floor plates for a DC- 4 cargo plane, (owned by the Raj) paint the gold floor plates black, install them and send them covertly by air to Singapore. The exchange rate in Singapore was twelve dollars an ounce higher. Instead of losing 15 million dollars they would gain $2.5 million. Raikar’s plan was implemented with the greatest speed and secrecy. One of the Raj’s sons, the pilot and a Punkawalla (servant) accompanied the gold.

The plane left on January 14th 2005. The flight plan submitted to Durban International Airport was to fly along the African coast over the Indian Ocean to Nairobi, Kenya. There to make a commercial delivery of medical supplies. The flight plan was bogus. A former South African air force pilot was hired for the illicit flight. He received a cash advance and Australian citizenship papers prior to the flight. The plane left as scheduled.

The pilot radio checked in at Saint-Maria in Madagascar, Beira in Mozambique but failed his third check point in the Comoro Islands. There were reports of a garbled Mayday alert picked up simultaneously in Malawi, and Dar es-Salaam. No trace of the plane, pilot, two passengers or the gold was ever found.

***

CHAPTER 1

THE TEST

Five Years later, Kalahari Desert, South Africa:

"He’s keeping up with the youngsters," the civilian said.

We'll see when they pass that camel thorn tree, the older man in battle fatigues answered. That's when they tackle the obstacle and live fire course.

The two men stood alone atop an old wooden Army observation tower. Both used binoculars observing the five men run past the gnarled old thorn tree in the 115 degree desert heat.

What happens if Kopp does better than the others? the civilian asked.

They fail. He's forty-nine. I expect him to excel in thought processing, map reading and communications. He served me for thirty years in Army Intelligence. I trained him.

Why make him run? He was lung shot in that attempted carjacking in Jo'burg.

We'll see if he has the wind. I know he has the brains. He’s the man I want to do the job for you. He's been training with black distance runners in Pretoria. Look there, he’s up and over the eight foot wall.

He's six foot two.

"And keeping up with the others.

Why do you want an old man for bodyguard duty in Iraq?

I've got other plans for him in Iraq. He's has an I.Q. of 144 and a bulldog mentality. With Obama as President the Americans will leave Iraq, back off from Israel and give the Iranians free rein. Then the shit will really hit the fan. The US will lose in Afghanistan. There’ll be chaos in Africa and bedlam in the Middle East. Every nation will require a modern intelligence service to deal with the Muslim uprisings. Kopp is my meal ticket for the next ten years.

He’s falling behind the others. What if he doesn't finish the course?

Not to worry about Henny Kopp.

***

The five men ran through the shimmering desert heat. The older man shouted at the backs of the four ahead of him, You lads better get the lead outa your arses,

The younger men crawled under the barbed wire with thirty caliber bullets whizzing over head and half pound blocks of T.N.T. detonating close by. They cursed Henny Kopp.

I'm holding back, Henny called. If I finish first none of you get the job.

Shut up old man, and save your wind for the two mile run.

Kopp ignored the curses of the sweat-soaked men in front of him. When you dance that balance beam ahead, he shouted, time your jump for the ropes. Kopp was last off the balance beam. He swung easily over the jagged rocks into the overhead ladder. He went hand over hand on the outside ladder moving effortlessly from rung to rung.

Old man your mother was a chimpanzee one of the men gasped.

And a gorilla for a daddy, Kopp shouted. He maintained last place by choice, climbed hand over hand up the thirty foot rope and lightly two-stepped down the forty-five degree log ladder. On the two mile run, carrying thirty pound back, packs, Kopp remained silent until the uphill climb to the finish at the observation tower. Lads, he called out, I don't care what they'll say about you if I come in first. I'll always stick up for you. When they say, You're a bunch of homosexual fairies, I say, So what. They say, You stink, I'll say, Like shit they do! When they tell me you ain’t fit to eat with pigs, I'll tell them you are so."

You damned fore-trekking Afrikaner, one of the men gasped, Shut the hell up.

Save your breath, sonny boy. You're going to need it to make the top of this hill. Kopp cleared his throat and sang out cadence.

Left, right, left. Pick’em up and lay’em down. He sang, Off your arse and on your feet, outa the shade and into the heat. One, two, three, four, your left right, left, right, left, right left.

The group settled into the cadence and the stomping of their combat boots on the rocks gave rhythm and strength to their legs.

Henny Kopp sang out, I don't know but I've been told Eskimo pussy is mighty cold. One, two, three, four your left, right, left, right, left, right, left. Hidey Diettey Christ Almighty who in the hell are we? We're the bastards who fight for cash in the Company.

Kopp stopped calling cadence within earshot of the observation tower. The men collapsed at the foot of the tower. The tall uniformed figure above shouted down, Kopp, can you climb up here?

Henny Kopp slipped off the backpack and left the exhausted men.

How come that old bastard is in such good shape? one man gasped.

That old bastard is former Colonel Henny Kopp of South African Army Intelligence, one man said. A year ago he placed twelfth in the Hawaii Iron Man Contest.

"Wasn't he lung shot and retired? Another man panted.

That's him.

The exhausted group watched Henny Kopp climb the wooden ladder. He popped up through the trap door in the floor of the tower Am I hired? He climbed out and smiled down at the shorter man in civilian clothes.

You came in last, the little man said, then nodded at the tall lithe white haired man in combat fatigues, The General makes that decision.

Kopp, the General said. Why do you want to work for the Company?

Money and the action. I like both. It’s my kind of work.

You're talking about intelligence?

It's what I do best.

The first assignment will be Iraq. You don't know Arabic?

Neither do the Brits, Americans or Canadians. I know terrorists. I fought them in Africa, as an advisor to the Rhodesian Army and in Lesotho. Hell, general, you know my record.

You lost in all three places, the civilian said.

Because apartheid was wrong.

Are you a moralist?

I'm not certain.

Do you think everyone is created equal?

Of course not! Neither physically, intellectually or spiritually. Kopp said. God gave a little more of this or that to each person. But the Almighty also gave us the law. And all men stand equal before the Bible.

. Mr. Kopp, the civilian said, you shot two men who attempted to steal your car.

While I was in it!

You snapped the third man's neck. Shouldn't you have been found guilty of triple homicide?

The Bible says, Whosoever comes to kill you, kill them first. A Black judge found me innocent of killing three Black hoodlums.

Kopp, the General said, We can't take a chance on an alcoholic.

I've been sober for sometime now.

Show this gentleman, he indicated the civilian, how you think on your feet, the general said. Design a plan of action against a fortified position located in a populated area.

The civilian stepped closer and said, It is surrounded on three sides by houses. These houses are set back some 400 hundred yards from the fortified house. There is an electric fence with machine gun towers at the corners and main gate protecting the target. You can have a platoon of 32 men with light weapons and explosives. The road leading to this fortified location is always under observation with anti-tank weapons trained on the road. For political reasons you cannot use aircraft. How would you take this position?

Harrumph! Kopp grunted and gazed out at the setting sun over the Kalahari Desert. Must I capture anyone in the house?

No, the General said. Killing them is preferable.

May I have paper and pen to sketch?

The General unfolded a large piece of graph paper and handed it to Kopp, All the details of the fortified house and grounds are here, drawn to scale.

Kopp laid the map on the only table, looked at it, met the General's eyes and smiled. This is not a test. You want a real plan. Using the tip of his thumbnail to his thumb's first knuckle he measured distances and wrote calculations on the paper. Several minutes later he looked up and asked, Is this a contract to kill these people? Who are they?

You don't have to know that, the civilian said.

And you don't have to know how I can destroy this building with only five men and light damage to the nearby houses.

It's the Al-Qaida cell that killed so many people on that railroad in Spain and planned the British subway bombings, the General said. Seven of them are holed up in that house plotting another terror attack. They have guards on the perimeter.

Must I kill the guards too?

Not necessarily, the general said.

How soon?

Yesterday, the civilian said.

Where? Kopp asked.

Lesotho, the General said.

"One hundred thousand Euros for me, another twenty-five thousand for each of the five men. You supply me with a Van altered to my specifications. I'll need 200 kilos of explosives and seventy-thousand Euros for payoffs.

Out of the question, the civilian said.

How soon can you do it? the General asked.

Three days, Kopp said, and don't mention my name to anyone. I’m not appreciated in Lesotho.

What's your plan? the civilian asked.

You haven't agreed to my terms. Kopp smiled.

Are you casting aspersions on my integrity? the civilian huffed.

You'd better believe it, sonny. But I’ll shake hands with the General on the deal and explain.

The General proffered his hand and the two men shook. Kopp smoothed the graph paper in front of the men and pointed to the road leading two miles in a straight line to the house. This road was made straight so they could keep it under observation and stop anything coming that way. It's the weak point.

How so? the General asked.

I load a Dodge van with explosives in the center, weighted down in the front with sand bags and modified to accept a JATO unit in the rear.

What is a JATO unit? the civilian asked.

A Jet Assisted Take Off component, Kopp said. A solid fuel rocket. It's used for over-laden military aircraft needing an extra push taking off on short runways.

I can give you everything you requested but the JATO, the General said.

Not a problem, Kopp answered. "Give me a helicopter to 1187 in Zimbabwe.

I never heard of 1187? the civilian said.

It's a secret, the General answered. We built the airbase in the Wankie Game Reserve for our planes in case of war with Mugabe's government in Zimbabwe.

Will you steal the JATOs? the civilian asked.

We'll buy them from the guards, Kopp said. We use a JATO in the van. The technical calculations must be worked out. Basically, we gut the van; load the front with wet sandbags to keep it on the ground. The explosives are packed in the middle and the JATO bolted to a steel frame set in the rear of the vehicle. We position the van on this straight road leading to the house. Fire the JATO. The van will speed down the road directly at the house. Boom!

What happens to the van when they open up with anti-tank weapons and machineguns from the towers? the civilian asked.

By the time it gets near the fence it will be going 420 miles an hour. It will be dark and the van painted a dull black. The only target their gunners will have is the fire from the jet exhaust behind the van.