"We are going to make what happened at Munich in 1972 seem like a picnic." He looked up and Mullin nodded. The Englishman knew the game. Mkombu would make short statements and Mullin would have to prod him with hows and whys and what-fors until the story was completely out. It fed Mkombu's ego to have the Britisher continually ask for clarification of his statements.

"How?" Mullin said.

"We are going to kill the athletes of one of the competing countries and place the blame on some white terrorist group from Southern Africa."

Mullin took off bis glasses and inspected them in the light. He could play games too. He slowly replaced the glasses on the bridge of his nose and asked, "What for?"

"Once the deed is done in the name of the Southern African Somebodies for Something, the world will crack down on South Africa and Rhodesia. It will open the door for us."

"It didn't seem to work that way with the Palestinians. Everybody seems to have forgotten that they killed children at Munich. Why should they get upset about South Africa or Rhodesia?"

"Because South Africa and Rhodesia are anti-Communist," Mkombu said. "That guarantees that world opinion against them will be vicious and unforgiving. The Palestinians did not have that handicap."

Mullin nodded. "Might work," he said. "How many athletes will we be killing?"

"From this one country, every single one. All of them," Mkombu answered with obvious pleasure.

"And how will we accomplish this?"

14

"That, my dear Jack, is what I pay you so handsomely for. Figure it out. Naturally, we will be issuing threats in advance so we can begin turning public opinion against the white regimes. The mass murder will be the final touch."

"A minimum force, of course," Mullin said.

"Of course. The fewer people who know about it or are involved in it, the better." He sat back down again. Almost without directing it, his hand moved toward a piece of beef. A fly moved away as his hand closed in.