Bruno fixed General Ligon with an icy stare. “And do you agree, General Ligon?”
“What other course to we have? Our soldiers are deserting the front. We have no aircraft to speak of with which to launch a meaningful counterstrike. Colonel Walz has disappeared, apparently deserting us, and thus we have no one to direct what few planes and helicopters we have left. The colonel hasn’t been seen for several hours, and I am certain he has made his escape from South Africa by now.”
“Walz was an idiot!” Bruno snapped. “Most of our losses are a direct result of his military incompetence.”
For a fleeting moment Bruno considered telling Ligon and Conreid what had been done with Walz—that he was now merely a pile of ashes, along with the Gestapo’s Dorfmann and his driver.
Bruno decided not to waste his breath, or any more valuable time. Alexis and three carefully selected assassins from his Praetorian Guard, men who had been with him since the days of the failed New Federation in Europe, had his American-made Huey chopper fueled and ready for a quick escape to Madagascar.
It was loaded with gold bullion, and Bruno planned to fly low over the Indian Ocean and across the Mozambique Channel to avoid being picked up by Rebel radar. In Madagascar he had another cache of gold and silver and an additional, hand-picked squad of bodyguards waiting for him.
There, backed by new allies forming in western China with millions in gold behind them, Bruno Bottger would try again to wipe Ben Raines and his freedom-spouting legions from the face of the earth.
He spoke to both generals again. “Someone has betrayed us to the Rebels, someone very close to me. From the beginning of the Rebels’ campaign in Africa they have known where we are, the location of our headquarters in Pretoria. There is a traitor in our midst. I can come to no other conclusion.”
Ligon spread his hands. “Surely you cannot believe it is one of us?”
Bruno did not answer him, waiting, casting a glance toward General Conreid, his eyes hooded and suspicious, as if he suspected everyone on his staff.
“Me?” Conreid asked. “You actually believe I could betray our cause, a cause I have risked my very life for?” His voice changed pitch, climbing as he almost whined in his attempt to convince Bruno of his innocence. “Tell me it is not so, Herr General Field Marshal. I gave up a comfortable life in New Germany to come with you to Africa. How can you think I am a traitor to The New World Order?”
Bruno sighed, briefly enjoying the discomfort his highest commanders felt. “I do not know the traitor’s identity,” he said after a lengthy pause.
“Perhaps it was Walz?” Ligon suggested. “He deserted us at a time when we needed him. Surely this points the finger of blame at him—”
“Yes,” Conreid said, nodding emphatically. “It must have been Colonel Walz who gave the Rebels the location of our headquarters.”
“I don’t think so,” Bruno replied.
“Then you must believe it is one of us,” Ligon said after a furtive look in Conreid’s direction. “But as you said, you do not have this traitor’s identity.”
“The solution is really quite simple,” Bruno told them as he took a step backward—to be out of the way when Rudolf began firing. “The real traitor will not admit to what he has done, and as we are rapidly losing this battle to Raines and his damn Rebel soldiers there isn’t time to ferret out the culprit. And in point of fact, it does not really matter.”
“It doesn’t matter who betrayed us?” Ligon asked. “I find that preposterous.”
General Conreid stiffened his spine. “I can only assure you I have never given any information to our enemies. I swear this to you.”
Bruno looked at Rudolf and closed his right fist, the signal Rudolf had been waiting for.
Rudolf raised his Valmet assault rifle, pulling the stock tubing from its telescoped position. Then he squeezed the trigger, aiming for General Ligon first.
The thunder of an automatic stream of bullets filled the War Room. General Ligon was slammed against the wall, with blood spouting from a dozen holes in his chest and thorax. His eyes bulged in their sockets while empty brass cartridge casings fell to the concrete floor, making a hollow sound.
With scarcely a pause, Rudolf unleashed a spray of slugs into the face and chest of General Conreid. After terrified glances back over their shoulders, the radio and radar operators, made a dive for the floor.
Conreid went into a curious back-flip over a desk littered with maps. The roar of Rudolf’s machine gun was deafening in the confines of the sealed room.
General Conreid toppled over onto the floor with pieces of skin dangling from his bloody, mangled face, and neck. He fell with a soft plop in a pool of his own blood. Conreid groaned once, and then lay still.
Bruno inclined his head toward the cowering communications officers.
“Kill them, too,” he whispered, making a turn for the door with his Steyer in his fist.
A staccato of gunfire blasted back and forth across a tiny space beneath the radios and radar screens. Three men were turned into bloody pulp in a matter of seconds by a hail of hot lead. Only one of them remained alive long enough to scream as he was dying.
Rudolf reloaded his machine gun. “Alexis and the others are waiting at the heliport,” he said. “We should go now.”
“Is the way to the bunker’s exit clear and safe?” Bruno asked while checking the cartridges in his Steyer.
“Yes, Field Marshal. Gunter killed the guards on the other side of the door with his knife before I came in, but there are guards on the upper level who will have heard the shooting. Gunter will be waiting for them on the stairwell if they try to climb down here. We will kill the other guards as soon as we reach the top. Your personal APC is outside. Jules is behind the wheel.”
“Let’s go,” Bruno said. He stood back so Rudolf could open the door bolts, wondering if this might be a better time to get rid of Rudolf by placing a bullet in the rear of his skull. His aide and bodyguard was the only one left who knew about his Jewish mother, having overheard what Herr Dorfmann said when he came to Pretoria to inform him of the statement the old woman had given him. But at the moment, Bruno reasoned, Rudolf might be more valuable to him alive. There could be more shooting between the underground War Room and the heliport, and Rudolf was an excellent marksman.
Rudolf, with his back to Bruno, tripped back the heavy bolts and peered into the hallway with his machine gun leveled.
“All is clear,” Rudolf said softly. “Follow me and I will lead the way to the stairwell, where Gunter is waiting for us.”
Again, Bruno considered killing Rudolf, for Gunter would believe him if Bruno told him a shot from Ligon or Conreid had ended Rudolf’s life. It was better to wait, he decided, following his loyal bodyguard out into the hall. He would have ample opportunity to kill Rudolf Hessner, after he was no longer needed for protection.
THIRTY-FOUR
Ben Raines was enjoying his reunion with his oldest friend, Ike McGowen, commander of the 502 Batt and Ben’s second in command of the Tri-States forces.
When Ike had finally caught up with Ben’s 501 Batt, Ben had greeted him with, “I don’t believe it, Ike. You actually look like you’ve managed to gain weight on this campaign.”
Ben fingered the skintight jacket. “I guess we’re gonna have to have a tailor ride with the 502 to keep letting out your uniforms if you’re gonna keep this up.”
Ike shrugged. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea, Ben.”
Ben laughed, then asked Ike to tell him about how his campaign had progressed.
Ike pulled a candy bar out of his pocket and sat in a chair in Ben’s CP tent. “Wasn’t too bad, over all. Had a bit of trouble in the northern part, which is wet, very flat, and covered with rain forests—which as you know are virtually inaccessible, due to the lack of roads. Moreover, I had to keep a close watch on the troops because of the elephants, lowland gorillas, and especially the friggin’ monkeys, which must have numbered in the thousands. The little ba
stards kept us awake twenty-four hours a day with their screeching and howling.”
He paused. “Do you have anything to drink around here? This chocolate is making me thirsty.”
Ben instructed Cooper to see if he could round up some coffee.
Ike continued, “Once we got to the central plateau it was smooth sailing. The area is a succession of rolling, green plateaus. About the only problems we had were in crossing the many rivers that cut deep gorges in the soft dirt of the hills and valleys. As you know, the roads in the central part of the Congo are among the best in Africa, and much better than in Zaire, the old Belgian Congo. What’s more, the altitude of fifteen hundred to twenty-four hundred feet keeps the climate almost bearable.”
“How about the natives? Did you face much resistance?”
“Some, especially from the pygmies. They were a constant menace, and I even had a few casualties from blow-gun darts.”
He laughed, making his belly bounce. “Can you imagine, in this day and age, a soldier getting a purple heart for a wound from a blowgun?”
“Did you have any trouble with the other tribes?”
“Yeah. The Kongo and Teke tribes were quite ferocious, and seemed to be particularly loyal to Bottger and his ideas. The Vili and M’Bochi, on the other hand, were peaceful as could be.”
As Cooper arrived with coffee and served it all around, Ben said, “I’m glad to have you with me again, old pal. We’re getting closer to kicking Bottger’s butt out of Africa, and I wanted you to be in on the finish.”
Ike nodded. “Me, too, Ben. I hear from Intelligence there are some AA batteries and artillery battalions up ahead that are in need of a good housecleaning.”
“Yep.” Ben walked to a map on the wall of his tent and pointed his finger at the area just above the border to South Africa, in southern Botswana. “Bottger has his last line of defense set up in a ring, running east and west along the South African border, just about fifty klicks from his headquarters in Pretoria.”
“Have the flyboys softened ’em up for us?”
Ben smiled. “Yeah. Colonel Holland just got back from his second mission over the area. He said there’s practically no air support left in The New World Order Army. He and his men pounded the batteries and AA pretty good. He said it looked to him as if quite a few of the troops were abandoning their positions and deserting to the south.”
“I’ll bet that’s pissin’ old Bottger off plenty bad.”
“I hope so,” Ben said. “And soon as you finish your coffee, we’ll mount up and go see what we can do about clearin’ ’em out once and for all.”
Ike upended his cup, drank it down in one gulp, belched, then said, “Let’s ride, partner!”
THIRTY-FIVE
The Huey sat inside a concrete bunker which hid it from view at ground level. The bunker was encircled by an electric fence. A multicolored camouflage net covered the aircraft when it was not in use.
As Jules drove Bruno’s specially equipped APC toward the bunker, with Gunter manning a .50 caliber mounted machine gun on the roof of the armored vehicle, everyone could hear the whine of the Huey’s turbines. Alexis was ready to take off the moment all were on board the craft.
Jules stopped at a guarded gate in the fence. A pair of Bruno’s Praetorian Guardsmen blocked the entrance with AK47s at the ready.
The chopper would hold twelve men and a heavy pay-load of gold bullion, already secured in unmarked cargo boxes in the center of the Huey’s belly. The gold represented all the wealth in South Africa, taken from bank vaults in Johannesburg and other cities when Bruno’s armies invaded helpless countries across the African continent after he was driven out of Europe by Raines and his Rebels.
Bruno considered the treasure the fruits of war, a generous reward waiting to be taken in Africa after his humbling defeat in Europe when the New Federation collapsed.
Rudolf stepped out first when the APC ground to a halt. He gave their surroundings a quick inspection.
“All clear,” he said, and Bruno was next to depart from the vehicle, casting a worried look at the sky.
If any Rebel recon aircraft had flown over, even at a very high altitude, a squadron of Raines’s Apaches might be waiting for them to lift off and head for the ocean, turning them away from Cape Town and the Cape of Good Hope, where Bruno had initially planned to leave a false trail on Rebel radar before Alexis swung toward Madagascar.
Bruno, Gunter, Jules, and Rudolf hurried past the guards to the narrow stairway down to the heliport, a pad just large enough to allow the Huey’s blades to turn.
Alexis was the best chopper pilot in the service of New World armies. If anyone could make it away from Pretoria without being picked up on Rebel radar, it was Alexis.
The two Guardsmen followed them down to the aircraft. A side cargo door was open, ready for everyone to board. Alexis sat at the controls while Bruno climbed in to take the co-pilot’s seat.
“How does it look?” Bruno asked as the others entered the Huey. He buckled his seat harness, waiting for Alexis to give him an answer.
“We will make it,” Alexis replied, twisting the throttle, adjusting the rotor pitch. “There have been a few flyovers, very high, probably recon planes getting a fix on our compound for their bombers. We won’t be here by the time anything heavy shows up.”
“Hold on a moment,” Bruno said to Alexis. He slipped his Steyer pistol out of its holster and beckoned the two heliport guardsmen over to the side door of the chopper.
The two men walked up, both saluting sharply.
“Yes, General Field Marshal. Is there something else you want us to do?” the senior of the two asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Yes, son. I’m afraid you have one more sacrifice to make for your Fuhrer. You have to die to protect my secret.”
As the men’s faces registered bewilderment Bruno aimed the Steyer and shot them both in the face, blowing them backward to land sprawled awkwardly in death, the surprise still showing on their ruined faces.
Alexis turned a horrified glance on his leader. “Why did you do that?” he yelled over the noise of the Huey’s engines.
“No one must know of my escape, or that I am still alive,” Bruno yelled back. “It is imperative that I be given time to cement our relationship with the Chinese, without interference or being hounded by Raines’s men searching the world over for me.”
He holstered his Steyer and pointed out the front plexiglass windshield of the Huey. “Abandon the plan to fly toward Cape Town,” Bruno said. “I fear we’ve run out of time to leave a false trail. Fly directly for the coast. Stay as low as you can. We have to take a few chances now.”
Alexis nodded and yelled over his shoulder to the others in the Huey. “Lift off!”
The Huey roared, its powerful engines lifting it slowly out of the tight space enclosing the chopper pad. As the craft rose above ground level, a whirlwind of sand and dust scattered from the sides of the open-topped bunker.
At barely a hundred feet off the ground, Alexis swung the Huey toward the eastern coastline, flying so close to rooftops within the city of Pretoria that even Bruno felt a trace of concern.
To take his mind off the danger while flying so near the ground he glanced back to the cargo area, where ten locked iron boxes held his millions in newly-smelted gold bars. It would be more than enough, combined with capital from his new allies banding together in China, to purchase more tanks and planes and choppers from the world’s black markets, and the Chinese had promised him millions of soldiers to fight for his New World Order.
A new beginning lay before him, more full of power than ever, on another continent. Ben Raines had won the battle in Africa, but the war to control the globe had just begun. Bruno would be forced into hiding for a time in Madagascar, planning his move to China while he acquired more war materiel. But when he resurfaced, it would be as a far more formidable foe with a larger, better-equipped army.
He turned to Rudolf and pulled him close so the othe
rs wouldn’t overhear. “Did you arrange the bodies as I ordered?”
“Yes, sir,” Rudolf answered. “I dressed one in your spare uniform and put your dog tags on his neck. The other I put in one of my uniforms, with my dog tags on him. Then I poured gasoline on the bodies and ignited them.”
Bruno nodded. “Good. Then with any luck Raines will think I committed suicide, or was killed by mutinous officers before they deserted. If he accepts our little charade at face value, as I suspect he will since none of the guards in the bunker have been left alive to tell him different, he will not be looking for us to surface somewhere else. That should make my . . . rehabilitation with the Chinese that much easier.”
He relaxed back against his seatbelt and peered out the window at the scenery passing below.
The residential section of Pretoria passed underneath the ship in a blur as Alexis gave the Huey full throttle. Propwash bent small trees and bushes below them, blowing shingles off some of the roofs. The throbbing hammer of the Huey’s turbine-driven blades filled the cockpit and cargo space, making it impossible to talk until Bruno put on a helmet with a headset connected to one worn by Alexis.
“Are you picking up any aircraft on radar?” Bruno asked as he inspected the scope himself.
“Nothing yet, General Field Marshal. We are still too low for their radar. What we have to watch for is an enemy plane or helicopter above us. If they spot us from the air, we could be shot down. This Huey is no match for an Apache gunship, and if they have rockets, we may have a problem. An Apache is much faster, and I’m sure you know we can’t outrun a heat-seeking rocket equipped with a computer guidance system.”
“How can we avoid them?” Bruno asked, seeing his escape plan in potentially grave danger.
“We will fly right against the coast, up to the Mozambique Channel. If we stay low on the beaches, their radar can’t pick us up from an inland station.” The pilot grinned. “At times we will be flying so close to the ground you’ll be able to reach out and pick buttercups.”
Triumph in the Ashes Page 25
