by Ahern, Jerry
“What chd the word sound like?” Kohl asked her.
” ‘Rourke’ was what it sounded like. And it was John Rourke’s face - his face, and ins face, without that mustache.” And she pointed to John Rourke and then to Michael Rourke.
The Devff1” John Rourke queried. “Maybe.”
His face on the Eden half-dollar, Michael’s race exactiy like it, except for the mustache. But, who else’s face wash?
Eight
She got the feeling that the German woman, Hilda, still somehow doubted that the men sitting across from her, at the old table in the more than six centuries old police station’s basement, were really John Rourke, Michael Rourke and Paul Rubenstein.
The question that Natalia was really Natalia Tiemerovna and Annie was really Annie had never even come up.
It was only logical, she supposed, for the woman to be unbelieving, accepting one hundred twenty-five years of disinformation, as fact
After Annie and Paul and Michael and she had decided to join John and Sarah in cryogenic sleep, Jason Darkwood who was in charge of security for the original cryogenics operation that had placed John and Sarah in suspended animation out of medical necessity, determined that, someday, his own security would fail. Perhaps because security was not his profession-he was then and was, until he became Admiral of The Fleet ten years later-a submariner, perhaps the best there ever was. With the acquiesence ofhis then superior officer, Admiral Rahn, and key persons in authority in Mid-Wake. New Germany and the Chinese First City, Captain Jason Darkwood devisedaplan. Then, with me help of Marine Captain Sam Aldridge. first officer of the USS Reagan, Sebastian, Field Marshal Wolfgang Mann and Han Lu Chen of China, Darkwood carried out that pJan.
A portion of Darkwood’s plan was rather grisly, she thought when more than a century later she read Jason Darkwood’s personal account of what happened, left behind after his death to inform them Duplicate cryogenic chambers were set up, and six recendy dead bodies were acquired, three male and three female, all of approximately the correct size (this took a period of several months). They were fitted with prosthetic make-up to closely approximate the fec-a features of the six living persons for whom they substituted.
Then the entire Rourke rarnily, with the help of the crew of the Reagan, was transported by submarine in total secrecy, taken to the last place Darkwood theorized potential killers would look, yet where he was certain proper security measures could be enforced. This was the Chinese First City. And, after Sam Aldridge’s and Tom Stanhope’s Marines put the six chambers and all necessary monitoring and spare parts equipment in place (Doctor Munchen the medical supervisor on the scene), Han Lu Chen and a hand picked team of Chinese security personnel took charge of their safety, eventually passing this charge along through the generations.
In China, within the Secret Service, there existed to this day a secret society, known simply as The Watchers’, who until this new Awakening kept the vigil.
Natalia held these men and women in the deepest respect, because for over a century they had safeguarded the lives of the Rourke Family (and her liaison with Michael now made her membership in that family more legitimate than she had ever before felt it to be).
And Jason Darkwood’s security measures proved prophetic. Less than thirty days after the transfer of the cryogenic chambers, two events occurred sirnohaneously.
A team of suicide commandoes, Nazis and former Elite Corps personnel working in concert, attacked the cryogenic repository at Mid-Wake. Apparently, revenge, even more than politics, made ‘strange bedfellows’.
A similarly composed team (most of whom survived) attacked Eden while Akiro Kurinami was making a speech, killing Kurinami, his wife, Elaine Harversen, and eight other Eden returnees.
The suicide team which struck Mid-Wake was neutralized before they could have reached the cryogenic repository, all the members killed or taking their own lives. A tribute to Jason Darkwood’s security arrangements, it was also the opportunity Darkwood needed to ensure the future safety of the Rourke Family in cryogenic sleep in China. News was leaked, then verified openly, that despite heroic efforts by United States Marine Corps personnel, terrorists were able to reach the Rourke Family and succeeded in precipitating their deaths.
She remembered the line John and Michael sometimes quoted corKerning history, that it was “… a set of lies agreed on.” After Unking up with the Allied agents in the Wildlands, Kohl and
Darkwood left, flying the J17-V they had used west. If it had been discovered by one of Eden’s spy satellites or the occasional high altitude intelligence overflight, it would appear to have stopped for refueling or some sort of repair, rather than to drop off infiltrators.
The five of them were on their own with the three intelligence agents, Hilda, the German, and the man and woman from Mid-Wake, Dan and Margie.
It was warm here in the basement of the police station, and Natalia pulled her arms out of the cowl neck black sweater she wore, then slipped the sweater over her head. Annie helped her to set it across the back of the camp chair on which she sat.
“The popular theory is that there were vast oil refineries and storage areas where the great rift valley is, possibly more salt-domed strategic reserves,” Hilda told them. “And there is evidence there were explosives plants in the area as well. Anyway, ifs not radioactive there, but whatever happened altered the course of the river. And when the firestorms came in the sky, of course, the river’s above ground sources dried up, so its volume was reduced.
“Whatever happened, between St. Louis, here to the north and Memphis, to the south of us in what was Tennessee, the river was diverted. Erosion and other forces gouged out the river bed, and some scientists theorize that the mid-continental fault ruptured and there was a quake. I do not know, but the result is a great rift valley where once the river flowed, but vasdy deeper than the Mississippi river ever was, according to our best research.”
“How deep?” Annie asked her.
Hilda looked over her shoulder, saying almost dismissively, “Three hundred meters in some places.”
“Earthquake. It would have had to have been,” John said.
“Whatever. Ifs there. And right in the center, between here and Memphis, is the stronghold.”
“The Land Pirates’?” Annie asked.
“No, the bad fairy’s. When I want to talk to a woman from Eden j IT1-” j
Paul stood up. “My wife, Hilda. Leave her alone before she rips j your head off and craps down your neck. She’s not from Eden and if j Eden women are a waste of your time, that’s your problem, not ours. I’m in a bad mood. And don’t push it, because I know whaf s caning, j The only way in or out of the Land Pirates’ stronghold is through this j
valley, right? Tell me Tm fantasizing.”
The Land Pirates have a way of their own, a i^te.mrough the valley. There’s no one who knows the way in, no one alive at least, except for the Land Pirates. That is why I told Jason Darkwood and Manfred Kohl that this was a fooFs errand. No vehicle can get in or out of the stronghold because of the ekctrical activity. It is because of the radiation, I thrnk. Something like what happened when the Great Conflagration occurred, the air sself charged with too much electricity. I am not a scientist. Bat even if you could survive the radiation, it would do you no good Theelectrical storms, when they come, are so powerfully magnetic, they will bring down an airplane or neutralize any sort of land vehicle.*
How do the pastes get in?” John asked her without expecting an answer. Nataha guessed Tf they can get in, they must be going below the level of me storms. If the valley is as deep as you say it is in some places, they must have a route that keeps them deep enough within the vafley that their vehicles are unaffected. Either that or shielding of some kmd”
“I am sure you ace correct, whoever you are. But no one but the Land Pirates knows that route, so there you are. It is useless. All of you would be well advised to wait here until Darkwood and Kohl return © pick you up*
�
��And you think that Martin is out there, conferring with the leaders of the Land Prats?” Mkhael asked, dismissing her advice.
“I would bet my Life on t,” Hilda declared. “But, as I tried to tell Kohl and Darkwood, we cannot get to him in the stronghold. There is no chance.”
Paul was pacing the room. He looked at Hilda and asked her, “Do the Land Pirates steal everything they have, or do they trade?”
“Well, of course they-trade, my God! Why do you think they steal women of chudbearing age? Even the Land Pirates couldn’t use all of them themselves.”
Then how is the trading accomplished? Do the Land Pirates go to the customers or do the customers come to them?” Paul persisted.
The customers sometimes come to them,” Hilda said, her tone more subdued. There is an active smuggling trade here, as you may know. Some say that Martin Zimmer actively encourages the trade to keep the Land Pirates occupied. The smugglers sell to the settiers, because they are the only source of things like certain antibiotics,
spare parts for weapons, like that.”
Paul pressed, “They trade in women. The smugglers couldn’t use all the women, either.”
“Some of the women are ransomed back to their farnihes by the smugglers, and rest of them are used for baby tanning. There is a premium on children, as I think I have said.”
“They smuggle women,” Paul continued, as if thinking out loud, “which means they have to be able to get vehicles into the Land Pi^ rates’ stronghold, that are large enough to carry a human cargo back out. That means they have a route, maybe not the same one the Land Pirates use, but a route, nonetheless. Who’s the top slave smuggler and where do we find him?”
Michael clapped Paul on the back, then looked at Hilda, the German agent. “Well?”
“The man is called Boris. Getting to seehim is impossible. Youdo not know the Wildlands. The three of us - Dan and Margie and myself-we do. Boris doesn’t just meet people.”
John said, “What if we wanted to trade him a couple of women?” And he looked at them both and winked. “In wonderful condition.”
Annie sucked in her breath so quickly it was almost a scream. Natalia just leaked away, thinking she wasn’t going to like this …
There was a map on the wall of what was once a cell there in the basement of the old police station, but the door had rusted off its hinges and where there had likely been a barred window, the opening was now closed over with some type of metal to keep out the cold wind.
On the map, crudely drawn, but likely accurate enough, Dan marked out a route with his finger. “East St. Louis, according to what I’ve read, was in another state before The Night of The War. States were political subdivisions within-“
“Illinois,” John Rourke supplied. “It was a nice enough town.”
“Sure. How was George Washington’s inaugural party?”
“The champagne was flat,” John Rourke smiled. “We shouldn’t need radiation gear to get over there, should we.” It was a statement, not a question. “So, is that bridge your map shows still useable? Looks the most direct route.”
“It’s guarded. Twenty-four hours a day, ifs guarded.”
“Arrything sophisticated?” Michael asked. “Or people only?”
“People only, but they’re tougher than you guys.”
“Ohh, I don’t know,” Paul grinned. “We’re pretty well-rested.”
“Yes, we are indeed,” John Rourke agreed. “I understand that the only plasma energy weapons out here in the Wildlands, generally, are in the hands of the Land Pirates. Just conventional stuff with the smugglers, this Boris?”
“Enough ‘conventional stuff to choke on, pal,” Dan snapped back. “Sure, some of ifs a hundred years old-Soviet AKM-96 assault rifles, slut like that-and maybe you guys don’t know much about guns, the old kind, projectile weapons. But, they could hurt you.”
“Just those little tiny things they called bullets?” Michael asked. “I mean, I wouldn’t imagine they could do that much damage, could they?”
John Rourke realized his son had finally developed the Rourke family sense of humor, which had largely skipped him, he knew. His father, Michaef s grandfather, a kind man and gentle except when the situation called for something more, was always noted for his wit…
It was good and bad, her ability, and the recent Sleep had only served to increase it She could, without trying at times, read. At times, sometimes when a loved one was in extreme danger, but with frustrating!) Hreguiarity, the reading ability she possessed was em-rtathic response. She could feel the pain, the anxiety, the loneliness. Sometimes, subconsciously she could tell her husband’s thoughts and, when she did, would try to block them out, despite their love and their closeness, feeling something akin to the voyeur. Sometimes, she could make herself do it. Sometimes, she would just get an impression. It was this now, as Annie Rourke Rubenstein changed clothes. Her father, John Rourke, for some reason was thinking ofhis father, her grandfather whom she had never met.
But she knew the man, knew her fathefs impression’s ofhis father, remembered the stories he would occasionally tell.
“Like father, like son,” the old aphorism went. Her father’s father had been in the OSS, the World War Two United States Office of Strategic Services. And, her grandfather had a sense of humor which had somewhat skipped his only son, his only child.
Once, during World War Two, deep behind enemy lines in Europe, he’d spent the night hiding out in a jeweler’s shop. And, he hit on a rather bizarre idea. What would happen if officers in the Nazi high command thought there were assassins assigned to kill them? Would they try to make a lower profile for themselves, and could this reduce their efficiency and aid in the Allied war effort?
He didn’t know, but he emptied the magazine ofhis .45 automatic and engraved the names of seven of Hitler’s top general staff officers on the bullets at the mouth of each cartridge, one man per round.
Several days later, when he was in Berlin and posing as a German officer in the Wermacht in order to pick up information from an Allied agent working in deep cover, he left the first of the seven personalized rounds in a washroom.
A bullet with your name on it would not be pleasant to find, he theorized. And, correcdy, it seemed.
Seven rounds were left to be found in conspicuous places around wartime Berlin. One of the officers committed suicide, another shortly afterward was hospitalized for some sort of mental disorder. Still a third was fired from the General Staff because of sudden inefficiencies in the performance ofhis duties.
“What are you thinking about? Reading someone?”
“No,” she laughed, telling Natalia, “but I accidentally did. Daddy was thinking about his father.”
“This sounds silly,” Natalia began.
“What?”
“I always loved you like a sister, but-” “Now we are, almost anyway.” Annie smiled. And she went over to Natalia and hugged her.
Nine
John Rourke planned ahead. He realized the unique possibilities for women in clandestine work, something many men did not. Michael realized it too, and she was happy for that. Natalia Tiemerovna never wanted to be relegated to being someone who had to be sheltered, protected Although the motivation behind such thoughts was pleasant to contemplate, and sometimes even more pleasant to enjoy, she had abilities and not to use those abilities would have been wrong.
Although, as John had once put it, “Not to sound vulgar, but I firmly believe that the only important thing a man can do that a woman can’t do as well, is urinate standing up,” John knew the single most important capability of women in clandestine work. Women, if they acted the part properly, could be ignored, almost invisible. Who pays attention to someone scrubbing his floor or dusting fas desk or cooking his food? Who, if he ascribes to the more rriachasrapid brand of popular wisdom, fears someone who, by her very nature, was bred to be helpless before him, her only possible defense to beg for bis mercy?
Intelligence data from the
Wildlands was, to say the least, bizarre. The human ftabnations which had grown up here were a mixture of ridiculous and sublime, communities where the level of technology was so tow that conditions and attire were almost medieval; entire areas where fundamentalist beliefs held such terrible sway that spiritual and physical freedom were non-existent and the puriishment for transgression was swift and deadly; societies which had intentfooally retrogressed to eras that were perceived as happier, better.
Natalia was dressed in clothing that had been made in New Germany, but based on intelligence data collected, no doubt, by Hilda
and Dan and Margie. She wore an ankle length dress, plain and of rough cloth, long sleeved and high collared, of the sort worn by women and girls in some of the stricdy religious communities where freedom of thought was essentially non-existent.
Annie, on the other hand, was dressed like a woman of Eden, mini-skirted and booted.
The story when they were brought before Boris, the slaver, was that Paul, the only man among them whose face would not be in-standy recognizable, was a fugitive from Eden City. Annie was kidnapped from the city. Natalia herself was a woman he kidnapped from the community known as Heaven, along what had once been the Canadian border.
And now, Paul wanted to sell the two women for some of the designer drugs and weapons Boris traded for women.
Natalia Anastasia Tiemerovna, Annie beside her, stepped out of the passenger compartment of the all-terrain vehicle Paul drove, Michael and John climbing down out of the rear cargo area.
Tm freezing,” Annie remarked, a blanket wrapped around her over her skimpy clothes “Why couldn’t I be from the same place? This is the pits.”
Natalia almost laughed.
John and Michael joined them. John said, “Once you’re inside, just relax. Well be there somehow.”
“I was never cut out to be a drug dealer,” Paul told rum.
“Call it a career move,” Michael laughed. They were twenty miles from the bridge leading over to East St. Louis. Natalia, cold as well, hugged her tattered blanket around her. “Are you ready?” Michael said to her.
