all be transformed and shifted about at the touch of a single set of computer keys.
Put simply, computer-imaging systems made the old truism that a picture was worth a thousand words as dead as the dinosaurs. Now only the honesty of each individual cameraman, reporter, and technician guaranteed that what people saw on their TV screens bore any resemblance to the truth.
Knowles lowered his camera.
“I’m getting the damnedest kind of yellowish glare off those sleeping-car windows.”
Ian tapped the South African Railways tourist brochure he held in his right hand.
“According to this, that’s the gleam of pure gold you’re getting,
Sam. Pure, unadulterated gold.
“I hope you’re pulling my leg.”
Ian shook his head.
“Not at all. Every one of those windows has a thin layer of gold tacked on to reduce heat and glare inside the train.”
“Jesus Christ.” Knowles didn’t bother hiding his half envious contempt.
“Is there anything they haven’t thrown into that track-traveling luxury liner?”
Ian ran a finger through the list of amenities that were standard items on
South Africa’s Blue Train. Air-conditioned cars. Elegant private baths and showers. Five-star gourmet meals. Ultramodern air springs and extra insulation to ensure
a quiet, smooth fide. Even free champagne before every departure. He smiled cynically. Whoever wrote the brochure must have been running out of superlatives near the end.
He folded the brochure and stuffed it into his jacket’s inside pocket.
“Cheer up, Sam. It gives us a good hook for tomorrow’s otherwise boring story.”
“Such as?”
Ian thought quickly.
“Okay, how’s this for a lead-in?
“With Parliament out of session, South Africa’s president and his top cabinet leaders left Cape
Town today aboard the famous Blue Train-taking their traditional fide back to Pretoria in comfort through a country still filled with millions of impoverished and disenfranchised blacks. ”
Knowles grinned.
“Not bad. Probably a little too rabble rousing to suit New
York, but not bad at all.”
“It doesn’t really fit the facts, though, so I can’t use it. I’ve got to admit that Haymans and his people seem genuinely willing to change the way things work in this country.”
“Maybe so.” Knowles sounded unconvinced.
“You gonna let a little thing like that stand in the way of a good intro line?”
“I know guys who wouldn’t.” Ian smiled ruefully.
“But I probably couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I started pulling stuff like that.”
Ian heard the sanctimonious tone he’d just used and secretly wondered just how well his scruples would stand up to another few months of virtual exile in South Africa. Damn it! He needed a big story to break back onto the charts in the States. And he needed it soon.
Knowles slung the Minicam carrying case over his shoulder and checked his watch.
“Well, you’d better sleep on it and get good and creative.
“Cause you’ve only got until eleven o’clock tomorrow morning to come up with an opening spiel. ”
The little cameraman easily dodged Ian’s mock, slow-motion punch and headed for the station exit.
Behind them, the paratroop major commanding the Blue Train’s security force shook his head in disgust. Americans. You could spot them half a mile away.
They were so ridiculously frivolous. He turned and barked an order at the nearest soldiers.
They snapped to rigid attention.
The major took his job seriously. He and his men were sworn to defend
South Africa’s top officials with their very lives. But few of them ever truly expected it to be necessary.
THE MINISTRY OF LAW AND ORDER , PRETORIA
From where he stood, Erik Muller could only hear Vorster’s part of the phone conversation. He didn’t need to hear more.
“No, Mr. President, I won’t be taking the train with you and the others tomorrow. I’m afraid I simply have too much work to do here.” Vorster’s fingers drummed slowly on his
Put simply, computer-imaging systems made the old truism that a picture was worth a thousand words as dead as the dinosaurs. Now only the honesty of each individual cameraman, reporter, and technician guaranteed that what people saw on their TV screens bore any resemblance to the truth.
Knowles lowered his camera.
“I’m getting the damnedest kind of yellowish glare off those sleeping-car windows.”
Ian tapped the South African Railways tourist brochure he held in his right hand.
“According to this, that’s the gleam of pure gold you’re getting,
Sam. Pure, unadulterated gold.
“I hope you’re pulling my leg.”
Ian shook his head.
“Not at all. Every one of those windows has a thin layer of gold tacked on to reduce heat and glare inside the train.”
“Jesus Christ.” Knowles didn’t bother hiding his half envious contempt.
“Is there anything they haven’t thrown into that track-traveling luxury liner?”
Ian ran a finger through the list of amenities that were standard items on
South Africa’s Blue Train. Air-conditioned cars. Elegant private baths and showers. Five-star gourmet meals. Ultramodern air springs and extra insulation to ensure
a quiet, smooth fide. Even free champagne before every departure. He smiled cynically. Whoever wrote the brochure must have been running out of superlatives near the end.
He folded the brochure and stuffed it into his jacket’s inside pocket.
“Cheer up, Sam. It gives us a good hook for tomorrow’s otherwise boring story.”
“Such as?”
Ian thought quickly.
“Okay, how’s this for a lead-in?
“With Parliament out of session, South Africa’s president and his top cabinet leaders left Cape
Town today aboard the famous Blue Train-taking their traditional fide back to Pretoria in comfort through a country still filled with millions of impoverished and disenfranchised blacks. ”
Knowles grinned.
“Not bad. Probably a little too rabble rousing to suit New
York, but not bad at all.”
“It doesn’t really fit the facts, though, so I can’t use it. I’ve got to admit that Haymans and his people seem genuinely willing to change the way things work in this country.”
“Maybe so.” Knowles sounded unconvinced.
“You gonna let a little thing like that stand in the way of a good intro line?”
“I know guys who wouldn’t.” Ian smiled ruefully.
“But I probably couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I started pulling stuff like that.”
Ian heard the sanctimonious tone he’d just used and secretly wondered just how well his scruples would stand up to another few months of virtual exile in South Africa. Damn it! He needed a big story to break back onto the charts in the States. And he needed it soon.
Knowles slung the Minicam carrying case over his shoulder and checked his watch.
“Well, you’d better sleep on it and get good and creative.
“Cause you’ve only got until eleven o’clock tomorrow morning to come up with an opening spiel. ”
The little cameraman easily dodged Ian’s mock, slow-motion punch and headed for the station exit.
Behind them, the paratroop major commanding the Blue Train’s security force shook his head in disgust. Americans. You could spot them half a mile away.
They were so ridiculously frivolous. He turned and barked an order at the nearest soldiers.
They snapped to rigid attention.
The major took his job seriously. He and his men were sworn to defend
South Africa’s top officials with their very lives. But few of them ever truly expected it to be necessary.
THE MINISTRY OF LAW AND ORDER , PRETORIA
From where he stood, Erik Muller could only hear Vorster’s part of the phone conversation. He didn’t need to hear more.
“No, Mr. President, I won’t be taking the train with you and the others tomorrow. I’m afraid I simply have too much work to do here.” Vorster’s fingers drummed slowly on his
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