The affirmatives came back through the interior of the helmet itself. He pulled down the visor and the tinted over-visor, his tinted darker than the rest, the automatic defogging systems taking over instantly, clearing them.
Sarah stepped back as he pulled on his gloves, then
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twisted his right fist and revved the engine. John Rourke started the jet black Special ahead, the kick stand automatically releasing, uneasy over having Natalia so fresh from the hospital accompanying them, uneasy over Maria Leuden’s inexperience, uneasy over Annie’s safety and Sarah being left totally alone here, except for the injured Bjorn Rolvaag.
And uneasy over Michael. The ground was dry and flat.
John Rourke spoke into his helmet set. “Let’s get these out to sixty nice and slowly. Natalia —keep an eye on Maria. Maria, sing out if you have trouble, any at all. Annie? Doing all right?”
“Fine, daddy.”
“Take it easy —these are a lot faster than the Harleys, okay?”
“Okay —thank you for letting me come along.”
“For letting you?” Rourke laughed, guided the machine off the surface of the field and glancing at the instrument package compass as he turned the fork to veer slightly right. “You’re welcome—just do as you’re told, kid” and he started building speed, the others on either side of him. “Paul — running okay?”
“I still like a Harley better.”
Rourke laughed again, but it was forced.
The suppressed dual exhausts hummed as they moved in a pack over the cold-hardened ground, Rourke speaking into the headset again. “They’ll do a hundred and sixty. We won’t, but we need to get them to a little over a hundred and familiarize ourselves with the handling. Check your instrument package digital chronometers. Every sixty seconds, increase speed by five miles per hour until you reach
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a hundred and five or unless you’re experiencing difficulties. Acknowledge.”
There were various words of understanding and agreement. “Begin — ” he looked at the digital readout, “—now.” Sixty-five, seventy, seventy-five, eighty, eighty-five. “Doing all right, Maria?”
“Yes, Doctor Rourke. I am doing fine, as you say.”
“Good. Annie?”
“This is neat!”
“Concentrate on your driving.”
Ninety, ninety-five, one hundred, one hundred-five. He held there, the ground starting to rise slowly now. “Any problems, excess vibration?”
No one expressed difficulty.
“Let’s try the same method taking it up to one twenty-five and no further. The only three of us experienced enough, even with these machines, to take a bike higher are Natalia, Paul and myself. And no Mongol Pryzwalski horses are going to get anywhere near us. Go for one-ten.”
One hundred ten, one hundred fifteen, one hundred twenty. One hundred twenty-five. “All right — still no problems —talk to me.” There were no reported problems. The ground was levelling off here and they were already well away from the airfield. “On my signal begin a slow turn left, bringing speed down to ninety, then on my command open fire with your fairing guns, just a short burst from each to get the feel of them. Be ready. Start to decelerate. Start the turn.” Rourke started banking the Special left, the brakes responding smoothly, evenly, the suspension so perfectly balanced that he could barely feel the motion. “Activate the safety
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now!” Rourke’s right and left hand activated the twin machineguns simultaneously, the rocks at the far end of the plateau shattering under the impacts of the German caseless rounds, the sound of the gunfire compensated for by the helmet. “Cease fire!” Rourke ordered.
“John —no problems at all,” Natalia told him.
“Good —keep an eye on Maria.”
“She’s doing fine, John.”
“You feeling okay —you’re sure?”
“Yes —I’m feeling wonderful. It’s good to be doing something again,” her voice came back.
Rourke said to all, “We’re going to cut back right and keep a single file as we head toward the Second City. We’re taking the route Michael, Han, Otto and the enlisted personnel took and we should cover their route in just a matter of hours because we’ll be travelling so much faster than they were. Be your own best judge on speed, but especially you, Maria, don’t push beyond your capabilities. We can cut speed without delaying ourselves very much.”
“I understand, Doctor Rourke. Thank you. What speed should I try?”
“Let’s keep it at one-o-five as long as it stays flat and even.” They were into formation now, Rourke at the lead, peeling off, dropping his speed so the others would pass him and he could have a personal look at how Maria Leuden was handling her machine. As she passed him, he nodded to himself with approval, then increased speed to one hundred ten so he could overtake them all and resume the lead, swinging in, cutting back on speed again.
He looked at the instrument package digital. In a
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few hours, they would know. If it had just been Paul, Natalia and himself, he would have risked closer to one hundred thirty, at least here. He shook his head, saying under his breath so the microphone wouldn’t pick it up distinctly enough to be heard, “Patience.” His fists balled on the handlebars of the jet black Special he rode.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
When he awoke, he realized his ankles were no longer shackled. When he tried to move, he realized his head had been bandaged and that he was reclining on a very soft bed or large couch.
“You saved my life, Rourke.”
It was Prokopiev’s voice, from behind him and Michael Rourke sat up, the pain a dull roar behind his eyes but manageable for now. He looked for Prokopiev. The Russian officer, in his BDU pants but with a white shirt draped over his shoulders, his right arm in a professional looking sling, his left arm outstretched beside him, sat on a stack of silk pillows by the far wall.
Michael swung his feet over the side. His boots and socks were by the edge of the bed.
“But more importantly,” Prokopiev began again, “thank you for attempting to save the life of Corporal Kamerovski.”
“The man with the chest wound —they —”
“Slaughtered him, yes.”
“What about the man they had on the rack?”
“That was Senior Sergeant Yaroslav, an old friend as well as a valiant soldier and loyal Communist. They slit his throat as they carried us from the cell. I feigned unconsciousness because, then, I was unable to move. They treated my shoulder wound, cleaned it and bandaged it. I can use my left arm a little. She
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ordered them to care of us. Your head wound was cleaned and properly bandaged. You are fortunate to still be alive.”
“Maybe. Who the hell is she?” Michael Rourke brought his feet to the level of the bed rather than attempting to lean over to get his combat boots on.
“I do not know. But she told me that I should relay this message. We will be publicly executed at dawn. I elected not to sleep. Rather enjoy my last hours alive while I’m awake.”
Michael noticed that his watch had been returned, none the worse for wear. “Dawn, hmm? Well —lucky for us it’s winter time. Maybe it’ll be overcast.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about your friend. The sergeant. There wasn’t anything — ”
“You have placed me in a peculiar position. I am almost pleased we are dying. Otherwise, I would be faced with a severe conflict between duty and conscience. You are a brave man and I am forever in your debt.”
“Forever doesn’t promise to be too long. Any idea where our guns are?”
“No.”
“Any idea why she cleaned us up instead of torturing us?”
“No. Perhaps she’ll tell us. But you know how they do it. I refer, of course, to the method by which they execute.”
Michael Rourke thought for a moment. “The classic Chinese methods of execution range from the headsman’s axe to being thrown into a pit to be ripped apart by dogs. But I take it she told you?”
“At dawn, as you know, before the assembled pop-
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ulation of the Second City. Perhaps that is why we were cleaned up. For a better show. Their method is barbaric but effective. We will be placed on the ground, hands and ankles tied to ropes, each of the ropes tied to the saddle of one of the Mongols, then the Mongols ordered to ride.”
“It’s a form of drawing and quartering. The Egyptians practiced it millennia ago.”
“You are more knowledgeable of history than I.”
“It goes with being five centuries old. I had lot of time to read,” Michael smiled, trying to make himself think. “At dawn. Well —we’ve got maybe four hours to get ourselves out of here.”
“Perhaps your two friends will bring the army led by your father and rescue you.”
“Perhaps your two men will bring the army led by Colonel Antonovitch and do the same for you, Vass-Uy.w
Vassily Prokopiev laughed aloud. “There is a word in one of the old languages — “