Red Storm Rising by Tom Clancy

“I’ve never met a dinosaur before,” a junior engineering officer observed sotto voce.

“You get used to him,” Ensign Ralston explained.

ICELAND

Two days’ rest was just what the doctor ordered for everyone. Sergeant Nichols could almost walk normally on his ankle, and the Americans, who were beginning to regard fish with distinct distaste filled up on the extra rations the Royal Marines had packed in.

Edwards’s eyes traced around the horizon again. The human eye automatically locks onto movement, and she was moving. It was hard not to look. It was almost impossible. In fact, Edwards told himself, it was impossible to stand guard and not look around. The hell of it was, she thought it was funny. Their rescuers-Edwards knew better, but why upset her?-had also brought soap. A tiny lake half a mile from their hilltop perch was the designated bathing area. In hostile country no one went that far alone, and the lieutenant had naturally been detailed to look after her-and she after him. Guarding her as she bathed with a loaded rifle seemed absurd, even with Russians around. Her bruises were nearly healed, he noted as she dressed.

“Finished, Michael.” They didn’t have towels, but that was a small price to pay for smelling human. She came up to him with her hair still wet and an impish expression on her face. “I embarrass you. Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” It was also impossible to be angry with her.

“The baby makes me fat,” she said. Mike could scarcely tell, but then it wasn’t his figure being changed.

“You look fine. I’m sorry if I looked when I shouldn’t have.”

‘What is wrong?”

Edwards found himself struggling with his words again. “Well, after-after what happened to you, I mean, you probably don’t need a bunch of strange men standing around looking at you when you’re, well, naked.”

“Michael, you are not like that one. I know you would never hurt me. Even after what he do to me, you say I am pretty-when I grow fat.”

“Vigdis, baby or no baby, you are the prettiest girl I have ever known. You’re strong, and you’re brave.” And I think I love you, but I’m afraid to say so. “We just picked a bad time to meet, that’s all.”

“For me was a very good time, Michael.” She took his hand. She smiled a lot now. She had a gentle, friendly smile.

“As long as you know me, every time you think about me, you’ll remember that Russian.”

“Yes, Michael, I will remember that. I remember that you save my life. I ask Sergeant Smith. He say you have orders not to come near Russians because it so dangerous for you. He say you come because of me. You do not even know me then, but you come.”

“I did the right thing.” He held both of her hands now. What do I say now? Darling, if we ever get out of this alive . . . that sounds like a bad movie. Edwards hadn’t been sixteen in a long time, but now all the awkwardness that had poisoned his adolescence came back to him. Mike hadn’t exactly been the makeout king of Eastpoint High School. “Vigdis, I’m not any good at this. It was different with Sandy. She understood me. I don’t know how to talk to girls, hell, I’m not that good talking to people. I do weather maps, and play with computers, but I usually have to have a few beers in me before I get the nerve to say-”

“I know you love me, Michael.” Her eyes sparkled when she revealed the secret.

“Well, yes.”

She handed him the soap. “Your time to wash. I will not look too much.”

FÖLZIEHAUSEN, FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF GERMANY

Major Sergetov handed over his notes. The Leine had been forced at a second place-Gronau, fifteen kilometers north of Alfeld-and now six divisions were involved in the drive on Hameln and others were attempting to widen the breach. Still they were handicapped. There were relatively few roads in this part of Germany, and those routes they controlled were still suffering from air and artillery attacks that bled reinforcement columns long before they could be committed to battle.

What had begun with three motor-rifle divisions attempting to forge an opening for one tank division had now become the focus of two complete Soviet armies. Where they had attacked into a pair of depleted German brigades, now they faced a hodgepodge of units from nearly all NATO members. Alekseyev anguished over lost chances. What if divisional artillery hadn’t dropped multiple rocket fire on the bridges? Could he have reached the Weser in a day as he had thought? That is in the past, Pasha told himself. He looked over the information on fuel availability.

“One month?”

“At current operational tempos, yes,” Sergetov said grimly. “And to do this we have crippled the whole national economy. My father asks if we can reduce expenditures at the front-”

“Certainly,” the General exploded. “We can lose the war! That ought to save his precious fuel!”

“Comrade General, you requested that I provide you with accurate information. I have done this. My father was also able to give me this.” The younger man took a document from his coat pocket. Ten pages thick, it was a KGB intelligence assessment marked POLITBURO EYES ONLY. “It makes very interesting reading. My father asks me to point out the risk he has taken in giving you this document.”

The General was a fast reader and ordinarily not a man given to displays of emotion. The West German government had established direct contact with the Soviets through the embassies both maintained in India. The preliminary discussion had been an inquiry into the possibility of a negotiated settlement. The KGB’s assessment was that the inquiry reflected the fragmentation of NATO politically, and possibly a grave supply situation on the other side of the battle line. There followed two pages of graphs and claims of damage to NATO shipping, plus analysis of NATO’s munitions expenditures to date. The KGB calculated that NATO supplies were down to the two-week mark now, despite all the shipping that had arrived to date. Neither side had produced enough consumable ordnance and fuel to sustain its forces.

“My father feels that this data on the Germans is particularly significant.”

“Potentially so,” Alekseyev said cautiously. “They will not slacken their fighting while their political leadership works to achieve an acceptable settlement, but if we can make them an acceptable offer and remove the Germans from NATO, then our objective is achieved, and we can seize the Persian Gulf at leisure. What offer are we making to the Germans?”

“That has not yet been decided. They have asked for our withdrawal to prewar lines, with final terms to be negotiated on a more formal basis under international supervision. Their withdrawal from NATO is to be contingent upon the terms of the final treaty.”

“Not acceptable. It gives us nothing. Why are they negotiating at all, I wonder?”

“Evidently there has been considerable turmoil in their government over the dislocation of civilians, and destruction of economic assets.”

“Ah.” The economic damage to Germany was not something in which Alekseyev had the slightest interest, but the German government was watching the work of two generations being dismantled by Soviet explosives. “But why hadn’t they told us this?”

“The Politburo feels that news of a possible negotiated settlement would discourage further pressure on the Germans.”

“Idiots. This sort of thing tells us what to attack!”

“That is what my father said. He wants your opinion on all this.”

“Tell the Minister that I see no indication at all of weakening NATO resolve on the battle line. German morale in particular is still high. They resist everywhere.”

“Their government could be doing this without the knowledge of their own army. If they are deceiving their NATO allies, why not their high command also?” Sergetov suggested. After all, it worked that way in his country . . .

“A possibility, Ivan Mikhailovich. There is another one, as well.” Alekseyev turned back to the papers. “That this is all a sham.”

NEW YORK

The briefing was conducted by a captain. As he spoke, the escort commanders and their senior officers leafed through the briefing documents like high school students at a Shakespeare play.

“Outlying sonar pickets will be positioned along the threat axis here.” The captain moved his pointer across the viewgraph. The frigates Reuben James and Battleaxe were to be almost thirty miles from the rest of the formation. That put them outside SAM coverage from the other ships. They had their own surface-to-air missiles, but they would be completely on their own. “We will have SURTASS support for most of the trip. The ships are repositioning themselves now. We can expect Soviet submarine and air attacks.

“To deal with the air threat, the carriers Independence and America will be supporting the convoy. The new Aegis cruiser Bunker Hill, as you may have noticed, will be traveling in the convoy. Also, the Air Force will be taking out the Russian radar-ocean-reconnaissance satellite on its next pass, about twelve hundred hours zulu tomorrow.”

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