NOTE: This is part of a continuing online novel. Here is the Table of Contents.

The America Diaspora is a sequel to The Chinese Century.

What can a quarter-million American liberals do?

Quite a lot, it turns out.

Maybe they can’t do much in their own country anymore. Maybe it’s too far gone. The destruction of democracy, of rights, of the economy is pretty complete. What was begun in Florida concluded with The Chinese Century, leading to this American Diaspora.

In six months we’ve seen a quarter-million people, and their families, move into South Afirca. Most were affiliated with the Virgin Maverick project, in downtown Johannesburg. But some who couldn’t get jobs there came anyway, and got involved.

It’s likely the government “oilgate” scandal would have slipped under the waves, but for the Americans. Bloggers keep researching, coming up with new facts, distributing them in Tshwane, making the gag order against the Mail & Guardian less than useless.

The “rainbow nation” experiment could well have died without the American immigrants as the BBC’s John Simpson wrote.

More and more whites are coming to South Africa, offsetting the loss of Afrikaners.

The South African High Commission in London thinks there may now be 1.7m South Africans in Britain, up from 1.4m late last year.

For every black person who enters the economy, there’s a white family looking for workers. Often it’s an immigrant American family.

When Vice President Zuma faced resignation and disgrace, a job was found for him that paid double his old salary, in the new private sector. He accepted the court’s verdict, stepped down, and bought a bigger house.

Virgin-Maverick took over the Johannesburg Hospital and reversed its brain drain, bringing not only doctors from America but research contracts as well.

Faster growth isn’t the whole story, either.

Durban’s poor thought they were all alone fighting for cleaner air until some American-trained lawyers started working the system on their behalf. It didn’t hurt that the lawyers were black.

This might be a failing society without Virgin Maverick, and my family is proud to be part of the experiment.

But sometimes it’s frightening.

My son John’s interest in history does get him into trouble at school, with his black schoolmates. He’s used to it – sometimes caught the same flack back home in Atlanta, where he was usually a minority of one. So he lets the criticism, the calls of “racist,” ride down his back, and argues. Racism is a combination of prejudice and power. You need both, he says. Black people in South Africa have power now, so it’s important for them to recognize their prejudice.

Back home in Atlanta he would probably be playing video games and preparing for another short, boring summer. Now he’s not only in the middle of his school, year, but he’s researching the 19th century Zulu wars and working with some programming friends on a licensed version of Civilization covering South African history.

Robin left last week for the Kruger Park, where she’s building a version of the SOAR camp for ADHD and LD youth. She loves animals, and the park is filled with them. Thanks to Virgin Maverick the park is doubling in size, extending right into Mozambique. And she has her own sponsor, the Lady of Africa, who might have been America’s First Lady now had things worked out slightly differently.

It all makes me almost glad her second husband lost.

Of course, Jenni is scared for her only daughter. But the low cost of labor here means there is plenty of security for her, I point out. She’s not just a 17 year-old girl here, but an important person with a sponsor, and a calling.

Jenni doesn’t have much time to worry, anyway. Her company was bought by Virgin Maverick just when she came here, after my kidnapping. Now she’s busy as can be, working on creating a transaction processing server farm, hiring the best engineers she can find from two continents, and being lionized for skills she always had but was seldom credited with.

What could go wrong?

Plenty.

I’m in my own office at the Carlton Centre when the call comes in. It’s one of my staff from the blog – did you know I have a staff now? He says he just got off the phone with Tony Leon, leader of South Africa’s political opposition.

“Tony’s on the warpath again,” Cathy says.

“Someone leaked him a copy of our incorporation papers. Virgin Maverick’s. He’s calling it a road map to corruption. Claims it’s bigger than the Zuma case. Wants an immediate investigation, etc. etc. How should I play it?”

“What’s in the papers we need to fear?” I ask.

“Well, there’s the Super BONGO agreement, our tax status, our independence from the government,” Cathy says. I notice she says “our” when referring to Virgin Maverick. Most in the American community do.

“I’ll call upstairs and get back to you,” I say.

“Already tried that. No comment.”

“I understand,” I say. “Let me try anyway.”

Instead of hitting e-mail or my Web browser, I open a small black book I keep tucked in a pocket. In my pitiful scrawl is a phone number, a private number few know exists. I dial it. After two rings it picks up.

“Mrs. Kerry? Dana here. We may have a problem.” And I outline what I know.