The Wonga Coup (12 page)

Two other constituencies worried Moto. He needed international acceptance. Spain he could rely on, as prime minister Aznar signalled support for him and hostility to Obiang. In turn Spain could expect a favour or two from the United States, after stalwart support for the invasion of Iraq that year. With some lobbying on Moto's behalf in Washington, organised by Greg Wales, that might be arranged. Support from Africa might be trickier.

Finally, the exiles, mainly in Madrid, needed persuading.
All despised Obiang, but there was fierce rivalry between camps. Some said Moto had no right to pose as their leader as others had taken greater risks defying the despot. Some had suffered more in jail. But by August 2003 Moto had united three opposition groups as a ‘government-in-exile' in Madrid, with him as leader. He issued solemn statements, set up a website and condemned Obiang. He drew up a constitution and economic policies. All of which lent him pomp and seriousness. By September 2003 Moto promised to be in power in Equatorial Guinea within nine months. He told a press conference that Obiang would fall due to ‘illness of the dictator, the internal struggles in the palace, the sufferings of the population and international discredit'. He seemed, really, to believe that Mann's military skill would do the trick. By the end of the year Moto was heard boasting he would be in office within weeks.

Meanwhile Nick du Toit was active in Malabo, courting friendships and setting up his front companies. At the end of August he met the president's brother, Armengol Nguema, and discussed a fishing business using an imported boat. The ocean around Equatorial Guinea was stocked with valuable fish. Foreign trawlers, notably Spanish and Asian ones, already took great advantage in the Gulf of Guinea. Pirate fishing, when unlicensed boats exploit the waters of a poorly organised state, is common in west Africa. Few countries have a strong enough navy to deter intruders. Thus it was natural for du Toit to be interested in this industry. Du Toit later explained to a film crew that he ‘joined a joint venture company with Mr Armengol, one of the ministers of the country, Antonio Javier, and a third guy, and we called the business Triple Options Trading, Equatorial Guinea'. There was also talk of agricultural work. The ruling family remembered South Africans had
done a good job farming cattle and poultry on the volcano during the apartheid years. Perhaps this South African, too, could make good use of the land.

Du Toit split his time between developing businesses in Equatorial Guinea and reporting back to Mann in South Africa. An agricultural consultant was recruited to draw up plans for a farming business. Du Toit later claimed he was setting up legitimate companies at this time, not fronts for the coup plot. In fact he did both: the firms could prove lucrative whether or not the coup went ahead. But there was no doubt in other plotters' minds that Du Toit was there as the forward team. Crause Steyl says, ‘Simon Mann sent Nick du Toit up to Equatorial Guinea. Nick wouldn't have gone otherwise. It was all a smokescreen.' ‘Lots of people have front businesses,' he adds. du Toit was ‘not really a spy or anything like that, but if the opportunity comes around, well. Nick didn't think it would happen within months. Sometimes you start a business and you tell investors [coup plotters] the time is not ready. You might wait years. There are these businesses all over the place.' Perhaps du Toit believed the coup might never be attempted, or at least not soon. If so, he would take Mann's money and set up businesses. Late in 2003 he met Wales in Pretoria to discuss Mann's investment. It was the first of at least two meetings between the two men.

Du Toit's business steamed ahead. On 25 August 2003 he registered a South African company in Pretoria as Triple Options Trading 610 CC. This was a sister firm to the one registered with a similar name in Equatorial Guinea (the joint venture with Armengol, the president's brother). By October he had found a fishing trawler in South Africa that could be used in Equatorial Guinea. The crew for the trawler, made up largely of old Buffalo Soldiers, would raise suspicion, however.
Du Toit later told investigators: ‘I bought a boat called
Roslyn Joy
in South Africa, which sailed to Equatorial Guinea in December 2003 with Captain J.P. Domingo, Engineer Americo Ribeiro and deck hand Georges Allerson.' It seems likely that Mann paid for it.

By the end of 2003 du Toit had a useful network, a bundle of contracts signed with the Equatorial Guinea government and growing interests in fishing, aviation, agriculture and security. He arranged for planes for his aviation business. He met President Obiang in December 2003. He signed contracts thick and fast. On 23 January he signed a joint venture deal with a local company, Sonage, to provide more airline and marine services. And though du Toit's wife, Belinda, later told journalists that her husband was threatened by Mann and forced to go along with the coup plot (she recalls Mann shouting at her husband one day at their home in Pretoria), it seems that he was a willing participant from early on. Du Toit played a large and prolonged role. He would help to buy weapons and recruit men. His tasks included taking control of the airport in Malabo and delivering mercenaries to ‘positions of strategic importance in the capital city' – probably including military bases, the police station and two entrances to the president's palace – during the coup.

All the while, Mann bankrolled du Toit's firms. Du Toit's accounts for his business in Malabo from July to November show he received $112,000 from a benefactor, probably Mann. One of Mann's bank accounts shows he paid du Toit $15,000 in October, and transferred $11,417 to ‘Eleanor Fishing CC', perhaps for du Toit's fishing trawler, the
Roslyn Joy
. On 1 December Mann guaranteed $2 million for du Toit's firm. His bank records show four more transfers from Mann's companies in 2004 (on 5 and 16 January, 17 February and
2 March) totalling some $220,000. Du Toit was at various plotters' meetings in 2003, for example at one meeting near Pretoria and again in the coastal town of George just before Christmas. Du Toit later recalled meeting Greg Wales, David Tremain and a number of others involved in the coup.

By late 2003 Johann Smith, the rag-and-bone intelligence man, heard ever more insistent rumours of a coup. He was not alone. Other intelligence networks were starting to hum. By October the British government, for example, picked up foreign language news reports of a pending coup. A British individual once connected to Executive Outcomes, with close contacts in the British government, Tim Spicer, was rumoured to have visited Malabo late in 2003. Public discussion of a coup was rising. Towards the end of the year Nigel Morgan had heard of a plan for mercenary action in west Africa and suspected Mann, a close friend, was involved. Morgan resolved to get close to the action. He was interested for two contradictory reasons. On one hand, as a freelance intelligence man, he wanted a chance to make money. This could be a moment to resurrect his Cogito firm and finally do business in Equatorial Guinea, where his friend Mann would be running things. On the other, as many knew, Morgan had close ties with the South African authorities and would be expected to pass on what he knew to them.

So when Mann said he needed a personal assistant who could manage computers and understand finance, Morgan put forward James Kershaw, his friend who had worked in Congo. The young South African was a capable administrator and had various skills, notably in electronic communication. Mann hired him. He sat at the centre of Mann's operations, arranging meetings, keeping track of his bank acounts and liaising with several others. Many of those recruited, or
otherwise involved, recall dealing with him. And though Kershaw says he had no idea what was going on, suggesting he thought a mining operation was planned in Congo, others recall he showed a great interest in Equatorial Guinea at this time. Smith, for example, was badgered by Kershaw for copies of his intelligence reports on Equatorial Guinea. Kershaw was also present at many meetings of those involved in the plot.

Morgan relied on Kershaw to relay information of Mann's movements and meetings. Kershaw effectively became a mole within the operation. Mann probably knew, but he did not mind, that old Nosher got some information from Kershaw. It is likely he also suspected Morgan relayed some of that to the South African authorities, assuming intelligence traders are obliged to debrief government contacts to some degree. But Mann could not know how much of substance would reach his South African hosts. Nor could he be sure what reaction the South African authorities would have to his scheme. He might have hoped that the government, if it severely disapproved, would pass a message of discouragement back to him via Morgan. That, apparently, did not happen.

Crause Steyl also became actively involved. He recalls agreeing to take part in the Wonga Coup in mid 2003, but he had little to do with it before October. He visited Mann at his luxurious home in Cape Town. There was talk of code words (apparently the phrase ‘the pictures have arrived' would be used at some point to indicate plans were going as expected; the men would also take different names – for example, Mann would be ‘Frank'). Steyl was told that a front man called Nick was in the target country setting up front companies. Then Steyl joined Mann to inspect the fishing trawler – the
Roslyn Joy
– that would soon leave for Equatorial Guinea. Finally Mann said he had a specific task for the pilot.

It was a pleasant task. Steyl was to undertake reconnaissance at a tourist haven, the Canary Islands. Mann made it clear that he intended a coup. Steyl's task was to fly a group of important people from the Canary Islands to the target country (the idea that Moto would go via Uganda having been dropped). This group would include the opposition leader Moto, who would be installed as the new president. Naturally it would be a clandestine operation. Steyl's instructions were clear. As he should not go through customs or immigration when Moto was aboard, he should establish how to leave the Canary Islands secretly. He must report back at the end of October. Steyl leapt to it.

Though he ran a successful air ambulance business in South Africa, Steyl was thrilled by the idea of a military exploit. Like many, he still yearned for the adrenalin-filled days of Executive Outcomes. He asked for $15,000 and travelled, via Madrid, on a commercial airliner on 20 October. Four days later, Mann paid the agreed fee into the pilot's account. Steyl returned the next day and the two discussed what he had seen. The Canary Islands, roughly halfway between mainland Spain and Equatorial Guinea, would be an ideal launch pad. As they are a part of Spain, Moto would arrive using an internal flight. Also, the Canaries are large enough for a group of foreigners to pose as tourists, but sleepy enough that flying out unauthorised would be possible. Steyl would prepare transport, as he once organised flights for Executive Outcomes to Angola. He would hire a Beechcraft King Air plane, registration number ZS-NBJ, from a small company in Pretoria, from December 2003 until the end of March 2004. When the time came, Moto would fly from Madrid to Las Palmas on Gran Canaria. Steyl would ferry him onwards.

Enthused, Steyl suggested others who might help. He
also agreed to meet a man called Harry Carlse – formerly of Executive Outcomes, then serving as a hired gun in Iraq – to explain the project. Steyl was convinced it could succeed: ‘You ask what is the military backing? You see sixteen people and a bread wagon take over Sao Tome. Equatorial Guinea would have been a walk in the park. Simon said that never has a shot been fired in anger in that country. And we are going there with 32 Battalion, a generation of real warmongers. We would have walked all over it.'

Back in tropical Equatorial Guinea, the political temperature was rising. Just one family had ruled since independence in 1968: first bloodthirsty Uncle Macias, then Obiang from 1979. It was an extremely rare example of dynastic rule in Africa, where political power almost never passes from one relation to another. The Fang dominated, and within that a subgroup from Mongomo town, which in turn was presided over by the ruling family. The family had grown accustomed to power and the administration was stocked with Obiang's cousins, half-brothers and uncles, none with any special skills to offer. Obiang knew his relatives, and took to heart the advice to keep your friends close but your enemies – your rivals in the ruling clan – even closer.

There were always fears of plots and skulduggery, warnings of foreign meddling, all compounded by suspicions of internal splits. While Equatorial Guinea remained dirt poor and sleepy, Obiang knew everything that happened, because little did. But as oil money flowed in the late 1990s two things changed. Firstly, it became more obvious that holding power meant getting rich. The trappings of corruption – luxury cars,
overstuffed foreign bank accounts, shopping sprees in Paris – made high office more tempting. Second, the extended ruling family proved unable to deal smartly with oil companies, complicated contracts and tough negotiations in order to get the best from oil and gas stocks. Obiang needed new blood in the government, technocrats who knew what to do. And that meant squeezing out the men who traditionally held power.