“What army?” Otto Hammerschmidt exclaimed incredulously, his accent showing stronger than it usually did.
“This is insane!” Han Lu Chen murmured,
“No shit,” Michael agreed. “We know my father’s in Georgia and the nearest friendly forces are all the way back at the First City. He doesn’t, evidently. If he’s a man of his word, which I doubt, then we can rely on
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the agreement we made of mutual safe conduct whos-ever reinforcements arrive first. Assuming the contrary, it’ll be up to you guys to bail me and the rest of your men out.”
“How?” Han asked.
They were nearing the horses, the two Russians coming down from the rocks to join their commander, the other Russians who had been in position above the overhang on the western side of the gap, fully visible now as they crossed the long way down toward the gaps at the far end at the bottleneck there. It would be easier to ambush forces coming from that direction.
There was little time, Michael reaching for his own horse first, the ill-tempered creature nipping at his hand, missing, as he grabbed the bridle tight in his fists. “Ride out —well enough away that you won’t be detected even with binoculars from the eastern wall. Then you’ll have to circle back the long way so you won’t be spotted. I’ll be up on the western wall with the rest of our guys. The Russians will be on the east wall. You’ll have to come up behind them. We’ll have to gamble on using the radios, that they won’t pick up our frequency. Then we go for getting them in a crossfire if it comes to that. I don’t like this — ” Michael Rourke’s stomach churned at thoughts of such duplicity, but the Russians would do worse, he told himself. But, would they? “I don’t like it but we don’t have any choice. Just get back as fast as you can without being detected and we’ll play it by ear. That’s all we can do. And hope you beat that Maoist force here. Otherwise, we’re all up the creek.”
“The creek?” Han Lu Chen repeated quizzically.
“It’s a narrow, flowing body of water. In this case, it’s brown and sticky and it smells like human excrement.
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And we’ll be up to our eyeballs in it if this doesn’t work,” he grinned. Otto was the poorest of them with horses, and he passed over the reins from his own horse, more subdued now, to the German commando captain, Han doing the same with another of the animals, the Russians joining them now. “Vassily —get your guys to help keep these animals under control while we get the others. Come on and give us a hand.” Prokopiev grunted something and reached for one of the animals, almost losing a finger for his trouble, then swore in Russian.
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Doctor Munchen was back at Iceland Base, and John Rourke had powered up the radio transceiver, now waited listening to the static as Munchen was called to the receiver. Over the crackle of static, the familiar voice came back at last. “Munchen here. Over.”
“This is John Rourke, Doctor. I’m sorry to get you out of bed. Over.”
“It is always a pleasure to speak with you, Herr Doctor Rourke. How may I assist? Over.”
“I need a frank answer to a very frank question. And I have no choice but to trust your response, Doctor. Over.”
There was a moment’s pause, the static increasing, then subsiding as Munchen’s voice returned. “Go ahead. Over.”
“Since this transmission could be monitored, there should be no purpose in clearing the room, but if you wish, I’ll wait. Over.”
Another pause, then, “As you say, Herr Doctor, this transmission might well be monitored, if only by accident. Pray ask. Over.”
John Rourke looked at his daughter, his friend, Paul Rubenstein, at Akiro Kurinami and Elaine Halversen. They virtually ringed him as he sat before the radio transceiver which had been given to him by the Germans in the first place. “This is a difficult question,
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Doctor Munchen. Is there an active Nazi underground movement of which you are aware which might be working for the violent overthrow of Deiter Bern’s government? Over.”
The band was dead for several moments, all except for the crackle of static.
“I cannot talk concerning this over an unrestricted frequency, Herr Doctor. Nor, under the present circumstances. Over”
John Rourke smiled. Munchen had answered his question. He imagined that Munchen would be smiling as well. “I understand, Doctor Munchen. I’ll look forward to discussing this at greater length sometime in the future should circumstances permit. Now, go back to bed. Rourke out.”
“And you the same, Herr Doctor. Munchen out.” John Rourke clicked off.
“That’s as definite an answer as I could have hoped for,” he told Annie, Paul, Akiro and Elaine. “It answers our question. Annie —get on the radio to the German base outside Eden Base. Call in for a chopper if they can risk getting one up or a J-7V to pick us up at the base of the mountain.” And John Rourke looked at Kurinami and Halversen. “All of us, if you’re willing to take the gamble. Because Dodd knows the location of the Retreat and hell just send someone else after you if you stay behind. I don’t think any of the explosives they had with them could have burst through enough granite to penetrate the Retreat. And while Annie’s making that radio call, Paul— you and I are going to put more insulation behind those escape tunnel doors. Akiro —if you’d give us a hand, we’d appreciate it. Next time they run a thermal scan, they won’t find anything. I should have thought of that when I
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originally built this,” and Rourke’s hands gestured sweepingly over the Retreat.
Kurinami looked at Elaine Halversen, then at Rourke. “What about Commander Dodd?”
“He won’t dare do anything openly with me there, and we might be able to force him to back off just by going to Eden Base. We know his secret. So, he’ll want all of us dead as quickly as he can get it done, but not openly, not officially, because this Nazi thing could ruin him. And he knows it. Well?”
Kurinami looked at Elaine Halversen again. She put her hand in his, Rourke judging the gesture as at once physical and symbolic. Akiro Kurinami looked into John Rourke’s eyes. “We will go.”
“Good man,” John Rourke nodded, clapping Kurinami’s shoulder.
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nicolai Antonovitch had excelled in tactics, but he had also learned that the obvious was too easily ignored; and now, as a commander, tactics were his to suggest, strategy his to determine. He had listened to the battle plans of his field commanders as they sat about the hermetically sealed, environmentally controlled tent, the Mongolian winds howling outside, but this something he knew only because he had ventured out earlier and he had consulted the long range weather forecast.
The yellow cast of the overhead lights made the green chalkboards appear almost gray. He stood, merely to stretch himself, and all of his field commanders watched him as though he were about to do something important. He was beginning, more and more, to appreciate how being the supreme commander could convince a man that he was also a god. It had done so to the Hero Marshal, the Hero Egotist. Colonel Nicolai Antonovitch had vowed to himself from the first that it would not do so to him.
He meandered about the enclosure, listening as battle plans were discussed, dissected, determined. And at last, when all his field commanders except Prokopiev (who was late for his helicopter rendez-
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vous after the reconnaissance mission to the Second Chinese City) had spoken, Antonovitch quietly cleared his throat in preparation of speaking. But the clearing of his throat silenced the assembled officers as though a bell had been rung or a horn blown. All eyes turned to him.
He cleared his throat again, considered just sitting down and letting the discussions work their interminable way to a conclusion. But there was no time for games.
“Comrades. We must consider the overall strategy now,” Antonovitch began. All eyes were his still. “Our allied enemies will never anticipate a move so daring in scope, because they would view it as foolhardy, which if it were to fail, indeed, it would be. But we must risk all, or at least appear to do so. Our allied enemies know nothing of our normalization of relations with the Underground City, and therefore grossly underestimate our strength and our abilities to re-supply. Until tonight, none of you knew the overall strategy, but as each of you has revealed his battle plans, it will have become clear that we are about to engage in a three-pronged attack.”
With that, Antonovitch walked to the blackboard and reached over it to the mounted chart rollers, drawing down the central of three charts. It was a Van der Grinten Projection of the World.