First Salvo

Home > Other > First Salvo > Page 15
First Salvo Page 15

by Charles D. Taylor


  “You may get up, very carefully. Roll off that table, slowly, onto the bed. Once you’re there, I’ll tell you when you can stand up.”

  The general did just as he was instructed, bouncing slightly as he landed on the mattress, rolling over, then watching Cobb, silently.

  “Good. Now slide toward me until your feet are on the floor.” It was an odd sight, the naked man moving as though he were fully clothed, seemingly unconcerned with his own nakedness. As his feet touched the floor, his hand snaked out, grabbing a leg of the table still on the bed. In one fluid motion, he was on his feet, heaving it in Cobb’s direction. But Cobb was a split second ahead of him, and ducked. The table passed a fraction of an inch from his head, crashing against the wall. As Keradin lunged toward him, Cobb stepped slightly to one side, slashing the gun barrel across the man’s cheek. Keradin looked up from the floor at Cobb with an astonished look on his face. He felt the welt on his cheek and stared at the blood that covered his hand when he pulled it away.

  “Someone will come—all that noise,” Verra said, the first sign of fear in her eyes.

  Cobb looked down at the general. Behind the pain in his eyes was a triumphant expression, as if Keradin knew he had won, whether or not Cobb had knocked him to the floor.

  “The knife,” said Cobb. “Use it if you have to.”

  Before Keradin fully understood what was implied, Verra was on her knees beside him, the blade of the knife nestled in his crotch. Honest fear shone in Keradin’s eyes.

  Cobb waited. The response was quick. There was pounding at the door. Voices outside called Keradin’s name.

  Cobb dropped to his knees, whispering close to the man’s face, “Answer them. Laugh, tell them it’s all right.” Keradin looked stubbornly at him. Cobb turned slightly to Verra, then back to the General.

  “Everything is all right,” Keradin answered. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “What happened?” a voice responded, not satisfied.

  “It is very personal, tell them,” Cobb whispered. “You can explain everything in the morning. You’re having a wonderful time and it will make a funny story.” Keradin hesitated again. Cobb got to his feet. “If he doesn’t do what he’s told by the time I count to three,” he said to Verra, “he’s all yours.”

  Keradin looked down at the knife. Verra moved it slightly, enough for Keradin to get the message that she would enjoy carrying it through. “I will have to tell you all about it in the morning,” Keradin shouted. “You’ll all be amused. But, please, I am occupied now.” He finished with a suggestive laugh.

  Outside the closed door, male laughter answered. Voices called a pleasant good night to the general as they drifted down the hallway. Keradin looked down at the knife. Verra hadn’t moved it. He looked up at Cobb.

  “A deal’s a deal.” Cobb grinned at her appreciatively. “I can’t let you scare him to death. I still have a job to do.” She removed the knife, slipping it back in its sheath and dropping it inside her blouse. Cobb had the general’s gun holstered around his waist. He handed Verra the Makarov. “Remember, if there’s any problem, anything that he could have saved us from, the first shot is for him.” He looked at Keradin. “You understand?”

  The general nodded. “Where are you taking me?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Put on your shoes and socks.”

  The general indicated the rest of his clothing hanging over the chair.

  Cobb shook his head. “You’re traveling incognito tonight. All I’m worried about is your feet.” He indicated to the girl. “Make a little roll for him—shorts, shirt, pants— just in case there’s a delay. I wouldn’t want to lose him to pneumonia. He’ll carry his clothes himself and like it.” And to Keradin: “Remember, the first bullet will be for you. But if I have time, even just a few seconds, I will let her use her knife. Any questions?”

  Keradin shook his head. Cobb explained to both of them how they would get out of the dacha and away from the area. There was no reason to explain yet where they would go afterward.

  Even the most jaded observer would have found humor in the departure of a well-dressed woman, followed by a naked man, followed by a peasant. After lowering themselves from the balcony to the barrel to the ground, they walked to the main gate. Verra’s knife was once again pressed against the general to assure his silence.

  The gate was the easiest method of escape. Electrically controlled from the inside by the guard, it could not be opened from the outside, and apparently security had not considered the possibility of someone escaping from the inside of General Keradin’s compound. As a result, there was only one guard there, whom Cobb had watched for a while from his position inside the crusher. He was by himself and likely bored. Cobb disposed of him quickly. Having seen earlier where the controls were, he opened the gate just the slightest bit to allow them to slip through. Taking the guard’s body with him, he dumped it in the bushes on the opposite side of the road. He knew that sooner or later the man would be missed, the gate found ajar, and then Keradin’s absence would be noted. However, it seemed unlikely to him that they would be discovered missing in such a short time, and assuming luck was with them and Lassiter appeared as planned, things should turn out well.

  The naked general preceded the other two, following directions as Cobb dictated them, taking the same path Cobb used when he came into the area. The road between Yalta and Alushta was mainly dirt, and it carried more horse- or ox-drawn carts than motorized vehicles. At night, it was deserted. Only peasants ever used it, and nowhere but home existed for them after dark. Twice the general indicated how chilled he was becoming, but each time Cobb decided that he would be more obedient if he was cold.

  They left the road close to the spot where Cobb had climbed up from the sea the night before. “Give him his underwear for the time being.”

  “Why?”

  “The undergrowth—he’ll hurt himself.”

  “So?”

  “He’ll slow us down. We don’t have time.”

  “For what?” she persisted.

  “We are not staying in the Crimea, believe me.”

  He could sense her happiness even in the dark. “That’s all I wanted to know. I thought—oh, forget it,” she said, handing Keradin his underwear, then giggling at the ludicrous sight of his putting it on.

  Cobb led them down through the underbrush, halting at a point about fifty yards above the water’s edge. Here he had a view of the shore to either side, yet they could not be detected by anyone who chanced to wander nearby.

  For the first time, Keradin spoke. “May I ask where you are taking me, and why you are doing so?” Since the moment Cobb had appeared quite suddenly in his bedroom, the general had heard only Russian spoken. He knew nothing other than that Cobb, supposedly a Georgian, seemed to know a great deal about wine. Though the girl was Polish, it was obvious that this man was not. They left no doubt about their willingness to kill him, if necessary. Even worse, from Keradin’s point of view, was the man’s willingness to set the girl loose with her knife. If he were to die, he far preferred a bullet.

  “It’s not important where you’re going,” Cobb told him. “That you’ll see for yourself.”

  “Are you holding me for ransom?”

  “You’ll see. But I don’t think your friends want you back anyway. They’d never know how much you might have spilled to us. Better alive with us than dead with them.”

  The underbrush was covered with a light dew. The dampness in the air added to the chill. “May I put on some clothes?” Keradin persisted.

  “No. I want to make it as easy as possible for her to operate on you if I decide it’s necessary. Did I tell you how good she is with that knife before we left?” Keradin said nothing more, but his teeth chattered. Cobb had no idea whether it was the cold or the prospect of Verra’s knife.

  They waited silently. Verra’s eyes never left the general. Keradin looked up every few moments but eventually gave up when he realized she was as alert as ever. The mi
nutes passed with an agonizing slowness for each of them. The girl was anxious, the general apprehensive, Cobb just a slight bit concerned that Lassiter might have run into trouble.

  But a half hour before midnight, he saw the light come on briefly out at sea then search the water as if a fisherman were putting something over the side. Before it was extinguished, it blinked in their direction three times. To an observer on the beach, it would have appeared casual. Keradin, who had been following Cobb’s eyes, saw it and murmured to himself. He knew he was going to sea.

  They relaxed for a few more moments before Cobb said, “All right. Down to the waterline. We have an appointment.” Soon a small black boat appeared out of the darkness. Its electric motor made no noise and neither Keradin nor the girl knew what to expect until it loomed before them.

  A man in the bow jumped gracefully out to hold the boat for them. It was then that Keradin heard Cobb speak another language for the first time.

  “English,” the general growled.

  “No,” Cobb responded quietly. “American, courtesy of the U.S. Navy,” he added, pointing at the small craft. “Get in.”

  Lassiter perched on a stool in the hydrofoil’s wheelhouse moments later as the larger craft slipped out to sea. He pointed at Keradin. “Is that guy in the shorts really him?”

  “He sure is,” Cobb answered.

  “Doesn’t look like a general to me.” Lassiter got up and circled their prize. Keradin, who affected a haughty air, refused to acknowledge the other. They had just boarded a Soviet hydrofoil, and as they had come alongside, Keradin had the faint hope that perhaps a mistake had been made—until he heard someone hail Cobb in English. To his knowledge, no one in Moscow was aware the Americans had commandeered a Soviet boat.

  “And the lovely lady, Cobb—who is the lovely lady?” Verra was still wearing the dress she’d worn to Keradin’s dacha that evening. In Russian, he remarked, “Cobb has done some pretty strange things since I’ve known him, but he never found someone like you before. I expect you’ll be wanting to change into something a little more in keeping with our trip. I’ll have one of my men take you below and see if they can fit you out.”

  She still had an eye on Keradin. “I hate to let him out of my sight.”

  “Well, ma’am,” Lassiter continued, “I don’t think you have to worry about him at all. You see, even though we still seem to be in the Black Sea, he’s just got himself into American custody. The only Russian you’re going to find around this boat is the general himself. Everyone else is as American as you can get—just like your friend Cobb here.” Lassiter talked like a boy just off the farm. His accent and demeanor were easygoing, as if he were welcoming someone to the country fair. “You leave him up to me and I promise you that nothing good’s going to happen to him. A couple of my boys will hog-tie him for you, just to be sure.”

  When Keradin and Verra had gone, Lassiter’s expression changed. “Cobb, my boy, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the best-laid plans of mice and men…”

  “We’re not crossing,” Cobb interrupted.

  “Nothing to cross to. That lovely little Turkish village you landed in when you flew up from Saratoga is no more. No landing field, no town, not even a dock to tie up to. All gone, blown into tomorrow. I don’t think they were onto you specifically. Otherwise, your friend the general might have been a little better informed about us. But I think their satellites gave them the message that American aircraft were landing there. What better reason to blow it up?”

  “Okay.” Cobb pulled up a stool in front of the chart desk. “Where do we go from here?”

  Lassiter pointed at the chart. His finger settled on the western end of the Black Sea. “New orders came through from Sara— from Pratt, I suppose. We’re going to have to make it back by boat. They figure the Russians have airspace control all the way to the Turkish straits and they don’t want to lose your general. I’m hoping to refuel at Istanbul.” He clapped Cobb on the shoulder. “Then you’re in for the ride of your life. NATO really would like to have Keradin in one piece.”

  D MINUS 1

  Pratt postured with a rash of plain language messages directed to the Pentagon to convey his optimism, knowing Moscow would intercept them. Battle group preparation was at a pinnacle. French and Italian naval units were making a magnificent contribution, beyond anything Pratt had expected. Soviet Backfire bombers, testing the readiness of the Americans, had been led by the hand and then shocked at their own inability to either surprise or penetrate the early-warning screen. Totally original antisubmarine tactics had baffled Russian attack submarines lurking in the Gulf of Sidra. And his final message revealed that his man had apparently been successful in removing the head of the Soviet Strategic Rocket Forces alive, though he was not yet in American custody.

  The picture in Washington, however, was not so rosy, with the United States and much of NATO presented with an entirely different set of circumstances. KGB disinformation had progressed beyond the USSR’s wildest dreams. The Japanese government, after the resignation of the Premier, demanded the departure of the U.S. Seventh Fleet; they claimed it was making a target out of their country. Terrorist activities in the major cities of NATO member countries had succeeded in frightening the general populace, if not their leadership. Industry and business had ceased to function. Transportation was at a standstill. Citizens feared to leave their homes after the threats of assassination and bombing became a reality. As reserve forces were activated and U.S. Military Police appeared in the streets to reinforce local police and militia, newspapers and left-wing organizations called for a halt to war preparations. Evacuation of U.S. dependents further heightened the crisis as the European media hinted darkly that the American intent was to make Central Europe the only battlefield.

  Washington needed proof that General Keradin was actually in American hands. Soviet television had already countered with television photos of Keradin that morning attending a meeting of the STAVKA, the Main Military Council, and there was no way to prove that the pictures had not been taken previously. At the same time, Moscow announced that their Strategic Rocket Forces were prepared to launch missiles on both NATO countries and the North American continent at the least provocation, with satellite photos and intercepted radio messages from the Soviet Union confirming their state of readiness. The only option for Washington was to counter, bringing the American triad—ICBMs, Trident submarines, and nuclear bombers—to an equivalent state. Only if General Keradin could be delivered into American hands at the appropriate moment and displayed to the world did U.S. leaders feel that the strategic nuclear forces of both countries could stand down. It was absolutely critical that both sides limit the confrontation to conventional weapons.

  In the North Atlantic, American naval convoys plowed on toward Europe, surrounded by antisubmarine forces and preceded by specially trained packs of hunter-killer subs. There was still no firm indication whether or not they would be intercepted. First-light photographs of the Svalbard region through partial clouds revealed damage to the Longyearbyen airfield and the Soviet bombers that had been there at the time; but there had been no further communications from the SEAL team, and no final confirmation of how many of the Soviet decoys had been destroyed. Even then, some may already have been delivered along the GIUK gap to counter the American CAPTOR defense line. More Soviet bombers were in the air on the way to Svalbard. If those decoys still existed, and if those bombers could get them to the GIUK gap, there was a good chance the Soviet subs could get through to the U.S. convoys.

  Only the political and military leaders of the Soviet Union, NATO, and the U.S. knew how critical the situation was. Actions over the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours would determine the fate of Europe and whether there would be a nuclear barrage. The citizens of those countries knew nothing but the terror that comes of not knowing.

  ABOARD U.S.S. JOHN F. KENNEDY, SOUTHEAST OF MALTA

  Admiral Pratt tentatively picked up the stub of his cigar fr
om his favorite ashtray, with its solid-brass base made of an old five-inch shell, a going-away present from the chief petty officers on his first destroyer. That ashtray traveled the world with Pratt, and today on the eighty-thousand-ton carrier, it remained his pride and joy. Perhaps, he often thought to himself, it’s a symbol of the old and the new, the guns-and-guts Navy versus the microchip Navy. The guns have become missile launchers, the guts have become brains—but it still takes a human being to manage either one.

  Wendell Nelson studied the cigar along with Pratt. He’s not going to light it, he thought, not without burning his nose—it can’t be done.

  Pratt touched a match to the tip of the cigar, his lips pursed. The end glowed, a flame caught on the dried ends, then smoke issued from the admiral’s mouth. He beamed. “So it works in practice, Nellie.”

  “Sure as hell does,” the other agreed. “But I wouldn’t want to try it again before the first real shot. Otherwise some smart Russian skipper is going to run that through his computer.” He sipped cold coffee from his mug, gesturing at the graphic printout from Kennedy’s computer. “And it’s so simple, a fresh-caught sailor could run it if I spent ten minutes with him.”

  “No complaints from the other COs?”

  “You know how it is. No one wants to try something new without playing with it in a trainer on shore first, but when the Russians provided us with a couple of live subs, they went along with me.”

  Pratt lay the display back on his desk. “I’ll have copies run off and heloed over to each commanding officer. I want you and Tom Carleton to run a class for all COs first light tomorrow aboard Yorktown.”

  “That is one thing that might rub a bit.” Nelson paused. “I don’t think some of those senior skippers were too happy about me taking command of that screen.”

  “No problem,” Pratt said. “When you get back, your XO will probably already have a copy of your new promotion. You’re a full captain for the time being, a four-striper, the only one in the screen outside of Tom.”

 

‹ Prev