by Ahern, Jerry
“Mydad never said Karamatsov was a brillianttactician,” Michael noted. “But before we can take a try at that …”
Helet the sentence hang, no need to state the obvious.
“We’regonna have to get down there, Michael. And I don’t think either one of us picked up enough Russian from Natalia to be able to understand very much of what’s going on.”
Michaelput down the binoculars and closed his eyes for an instant. He opened them. “Maria. Before the Night of the War, the Russians did quite a bit of archaeological research. She has a readingknowledge. Maybe between us—damn.”
MichaelRourke looked at Paul Rubenstein. The smaller man nodded, his face—the torque pulled away and his ears reddening with exposure to the wind and cold—grim and hard-set.
Michaeltook up his binoculars again. If Karamatsov were at all smart, he would make the command tent as indistinguishable as possible from any other, a wolf hiding amid the flock in the event of aerial attack. But Karamatsov would be near enough to the helipad that he could reach it rapidly in the event that survival became his most important concern. “The command tent,” he began. “It has to be near the helipad. Look for the most innocuous thing you can find.”
Michaelkept scanning the encampment below them.
ThenPaul spoke. “Check out the hospital tents. The smaller one in the middle.”
Michael shifted his gaze, refocusing, taking a new distance reading. One of the hospital tents, set almost in the exact center of the others, yet with totally unobstructed access to the helipad, had two guards stationed near the opening, one on either side of H. Portable deflection barriers were installed around it and guards stationed at regular intervals ringed it.
“You have a good eye,” Michael told his brother-in-law and friend.
“Which one—the right or the left?”
Michael Rourke reached out his left fist and gently punched Paul Rubenstein’s right shoulder. “Touche.”
“How are we gonna get in there? I found it; you figure that one out,” Paul whispered, his voice holding a hint of amusement,
“Standard thing, I guess. How’d my father and Natalia get into the Womb just before the Great Conflagration?” “You know how.”
“Then we’ll get some Russian uniforms and play it by ear. And if we’re wrong and Dad and Natalia aren’t there, we’ll find out where they are. And I can get Karamatsov.”
“Youll get him, Michael. But maybe not yet.”
Michael Rourke didn’t speak. Of greatest importance was finding his father and Natalia. Then killing the man responsible for the death of his wife, Madison, and their unborn child. That would be dessert.
Chapter Fifteen
JohnRourke’s hands were bound behind him and a length of the plastic restraint was around his throat, his neck held arched back with it by the hand of one of the two guards who flanked him close. Natalia Anastasia Tiemerovna, her head aching, her mouth dry, her insides feeling as if her period were a week overdue when in reality it had just passed, spoke to him quickly in German. “Wolfgang. I revealed my identity as a Russian, and yours as a German officer—I am—”
“Quiet!“Kerenin clamped his hand over her mouth.
John,looking as though he was barely able to smile, tried breaking away from his captors. The one guard drew back hard and fast on the cord around his neck, the other punching him in the left kidney. He dropped to his knees, his lips drawn back from his teeth, his high forehead glistening sweat, his eyes glaring toward Kerenin as he coughed, sounding as though he were choking.
Kerenintook his hand from her mouth and she screamed at the Russian. “You promised he would not be hurt!”
“Ipromised he would be given the best medical attention and he was. He then killed one guard, injured another, and nearly beat one of the medical technicians to death. He escaped his compartment in the Marine Spetznas hospital and shot several guards and hospital technicians with Sty-20s he had stolen. He would be dead at my hands now if it were not that I promised you. His fate is no longer under my control, Major Tiemerovna—
and …”
Kerenin fell immediately silent, the triumvirate entering the marble-floored, marble-walled room, unceremoniously seating themselves at the long desk she had seen before.
She looked at John. He had been dragged to his feet, the cord still tight around his throat. He smiled at her, as if to say that somehow everything would be all right. But she knew; this time, it wouldn’t be all right. And she was suddenly chilled more deeply than she had ever been chilled.
Kerenin urged her forward, her hands again bound behind her.
John moved forward, no longer fighting them.
The female intepreter was again present.
The man at the center of the triumvirate spoke, the woman beginning the translation—unnecessary though it was—for John. “You have both been adjudged enemies of the State. By her own words, this self-proclaimed former comrade has outlined the systematic betrayal of the ideals of Communism, the Soviet State. If her claims of somehow surviving since before the vicious and unprovoked attack by what was called the United States against the people of the Soviet Union is true, she is personally and collectively responsible for countless deaths, unnumbered acts of sabotage and espionage. And this man is an officer in an enemy force which seeks to destroy Communist forces this woman tells us exist in force on the surface of the planet. He is an intelligence officer, and therefore a spy. The penalty for espionage, of course, in time of war, is obvious. The woman—if her story is true, there could be no penalty horrible enough to properly punish her.
“We are told that she claims that the husband she betrayed for the love of an American …” He consulted his notes. “… named John Rourke is also alive and is the commander of Soviet forces even now fighting an imperialist alliance bent on the complete obliteration of Soviet Communism. If she tells the truth, it might be useful to the welfare of the State to meet with this Marshal Karamatsov and work with him to advance the cause of
Communismon the surface. To that end, it is the judgment of this triumvirate that the woman, who calls herself Natalia Anastasia Tiemerovna, Major, Committee for State Security of the Soviet Union, be held in an appropriate location until such time as contact has been achieved with Marshal Karamatsov and the transfer of this woman to his custody can be effected.”
Nataliawanted to scream. And then she wanted to cry. And then to die. She stood perfectly erect, shoulders back and lowered, her chin raised, her eyes unwavering as they stared ahead.
“Itis the further judgment of this triumvirate that the man, identified as Wolfgang Heinz, Colonel of Intelligence, the Army of New Germany, shall be taken to the customary place of execution immediately and there shall be meted out the reward for his crimes. You are both allowed a brief final statement.”
Nataliaspoke quickly, before John could speak and implicate himself still further and perhaps try to save her. “This German intelligence officer has valuable information which-my husband would wish to possess. If you kill him, you will anger Marshal Karamatsov. He—”
Kerenininterrupted her, shoving her back. “Comrade Chairman. It is clear the woman wishes to bargain for time.”
Johnspoke, his Russian as faultless as she had ever heard it. “I am John Rourke. And any crimes you claim this woman had committed were done at my order. If there is any punishment to be meted out, I am the one deserving of it. She is—”
Kereninhad nodded, and the cord around John’s neck was snapped back so tightly he was forced to his knees, gagging, his face purpling. Natalia tried to move toward him, the two guards who stood beside her grabbing her at the upper arms and shoulders, holding her back. And she realized that if she could convince them, perhaps John would live long enough that … “Comrade Chairman! I must speak!”
“Speak,“the man said emotionlessly.
Kereninnodded. The pressure on her arms was released. She took a tentative pace forward. “He is John Rourke. I lied to protect
him, but I see now that—”
Kereninshoved her aside. “It is clear, Comrade Chairman, that the woman lies in order to save her own comrade. This man—” and he gestured broadly to John, John on his feet again, but the cord still so tight at his throat that his face was discoloring, “—could not be John Rourke. She told of a man of virtually superhuman abilities, not a common ruffian such as this. I am convinced, comrades,” and he addressed them all now, all three of their judges, “that this man is only a German officer. And I am further convinced that this John Rourke of whom she speaks even now works for the undoing of our system. I am convinced that such a man would not be so easily taken. This man—” He stabbed his right first finger toward John. “—must die!”
Nataliafell to her knees, tears welling up in her eyes. “I beg you. All of you. Kill me, or give me to my husband, but—”
“Natalia!“It was John’s voice, shouting at her, but she didn’t look back, his shout choked off.
“Iam guilty of all you have said. I will accept any punishment. But do not kill this man. Please. Oh, please.” And Natalia crawled nearer to the desk on her knees.
“Nata—”
Shekept crawling toward the desk and when she was as near to it as she could get, the tears flowing freely now, she lowered her head to the floor, her forehead against it. “Please. Please. Please—”
Shewas jerked to her feet, Kerenin’s left fist knotted in her hair, her head pulled back unnaturally far, her neck aflame with pain. His eyes bored into her, and she realized that he knew and he didn’t care. “The woman is very convincing, comrades. I too have learned this. Request permission to carry out the execution of the German officer Wolfgang Heinz.”
“Granted,“the Chairman intoned. “And take her away.
Isuggest a constant guard that she does not attempt to take her own life.”
“Verygood, Comrade Chairman, comrades.” Kerenin looked at her once again.
Shewhispered to him, “I’ll do anything you ask me to do—anything—please—do not kill him.” He let go of her and she dropped to her knees at his feet. She could hear John behind her, struggling with the man who held him. Natalia Anastasia Tiemerovna touched her lips to Kerenin’s right boot.
Hedragged her up to her feet by her hair. His left hand crashed against her cheek and she fell to the floor.
Theguards were hauling her up.
Shesaw John one more time. She would always know he had loved her… .
“Youknow who I am.”
“IfI did, I would not say that I knew.”
“Youwant Natalia. But all her husband wants is to murder her in the crudest way possible. You are playing a loser’s game.”
Kereninstopped, drawing Rourke’s Crain LS System X knife and placing its point against Rourke’s throat. He told the guards, “Wait for us ahead, now!” And the guards moved ahead, leaving Kerenin and John Rourke in the corridor leading from the hall where the triumvirate had passed the sentence of death on Rourke. “If you move, your throat is cut.”
“Iknow that. And you will know you are killing the only prisoner you could possibly have for Karamatsov more valuable than Natalia.”
“Yes.“Kerenin smiled. He looked down at his hand, which held the knife, then into Rourke’s eyes. “I am afraid that I have never been more strongly attracted to a woman in my life than to Major Tiemerovna. I must possess her, even if for a short time. You should be happy. Perhaps I will be so moved that I will find some way of saving her from her fate.”
“IfI thought you could …” Rourke let the sentence hang.
“Shewill hate me for supervising your execution. But perhaps her hate can turn to something else. At least it is a strong emotion.”
“Takeher to the surface. Find my son. Tell him you saved her life. He is a man of honor and will see to it that you are not harmed. Do not give her to her husband.”
“Youlove her as much as she loves you. Fascinating.”
Rourkedidn’t say anything.
Kerenindid. “I have taken it upon myself to keep a promise, in a manner of speaking. I am showing you mercy in the only way I can. Personally, I would prefer your death to be the worst possible. But, for the sake of Major Tiemerovna, I am electing the alternate form of execution available. I have, of course, taken the time to obtain proper authority for doing so, on a pretext. You have much to thank me for, but little time in which to do it. Keep in mind that I would enjoy personally killing
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you.
“Iwill keep that in mind. And may I extend the same wishes.”
Kereninsmiled. “From the way she spoke of you, I must say I had anticipated more.”
“Weall have our bad days.” Rourke smiled. “But in the event I should survive, where did you put my guns and my other knife? And, while you are at it, where will you be keeping Natalia?”
“Youare trying to live up to the image of infallibility painted of you by Major Tiemerovna. Very good! Why not? She will be in the command module where we are now. In the building on the far left as you enter through the causeway. On our right, as we stand here. And your guns? I would imagine they are in the security complex which is in the main city. The dome furthest away from the submarine pens where you entered the city. You cannot miss it. Any other questions, my friend?”
“Howare you going to kill me?”
“Please—leavesomething for expectation. You will
learnsoon enough. But now, move ahead. The guards grow restless.” He prodded gently with the knife, still at Rourke’s throat, and Rourke started ahead, the cord still looped about his neck—he imagined in the event he tried to resist—and his wrists bound behind him with the seemingly unbreakable plastic restraints.
Natalia—shehad wept after she had kissed Kerenin’s foot to beg for his, John Rourke’s, life. He looked at Kerenin once.
Rourkeinhaled, exhaled, walked ahead in the company of the guards, two on either side of him, two in front and in back, all Marine Spetznas, all with their Sty-20 pistols drawn. He knew well by now the inevitability of the effect from the darts the Sty-20s fired.
Theyreturned to the artificial sunlight, Rourke squinting against it. One of the Gullwing cars awaited and Rourke ducked his head as he entered behind three of the guards, Kerenin placing himself in the seat just aft of the driver. Kerenin ordered the driver to take them to the pens.
JohnRourke didn’t like the sound of that, but he liked nothing else here either.
Hishead ached and he was stiff, the ache the result of having eaten nothing in more than twenty-four hours. But the effect of the drug used in the Sty-20 pistols seemed at least moderately cumulative. He shook his head, wiggling his toes inside his boots, moving his fingers behind him, trying to increase his circulation and burn off the drug as much as possible.
TheGullwing passed through the deactivated energy barrier, the armored personnel carriers and other vehicles behind them now.
Hewould have one chance at best, and, if he failed, Natalia would die and the world of the surface would be in deadly peril. He would have to make his one chance work to fullest advantage. He began deep breathing, careful that in his debilitated condition he would not begin to hyperventilate. He closed his eyes, summoning’energy first to one part of his body, then to another, focusing his
concentrationon the inner self, cleansing his mind of all but his single purpose and its multifaceted goals.
Hefelt the motion of the Gullwing, subtle, letting his body rhythm blend with it, the idle, subdued chatter of the guards pushed from his mind.
Aquietness came over him, peace. His breathing evened.
Thevehicle stopped. He felt the change of rhythm. Slowly, John Rourke opened his eyes.
Therewas a pneumatic-sounding thwack as the gullwings opened. Kerenin was already stepping out onto the curb. Three guards, then Rourke followed in their train.
Theartificial sunlight, however it was generated, was strong here. And he smelled seawater very strongly. Beyond the wa
lkway, there were massive doors and lettered above them in Cyrillic thewords “People’s Institute for Marine Studies.”
Theguards fell in around him. He asked Kerenin casually, “Taking me for an outing to the aquarium?”
Kereninlaughed. “You might say that, you might indeed.
Theyentered into a high-ceilinged, formal hall, a bank of elevators at the far right. Kerenin started for them, saying something to one of the guards, the man jogging ahead to signal on the elevator call-button panel.
Anelevator, not unlike the one aboard the submarine, opened, Kerenin stepping inside and waiting beside the interior panel, the guards still surrounding Rourke, their guns drawn, Rourke standing at the approximate center of the elevator, waiting for the movement to start. It did, noticeably downward.
Theelevator stopped. “Are we below the level for the main portions of the dome?”
Kereninlaughed. “You are incorrigible. Yes—yes, we are. Come—there is more of the tour before—well, before.” Kerenin stepped into a dank-smelling, fishy-smelling metal-walled antechamber, three guards, then Rourke after him, the other three guards behind him, then one
fromin front and one from the rear falling in on either side of him, their Sty-20s pointed at him almost casually.
Theybegan walking down a long corridor, wide enough for two trucks to pass one another easily, watertight doors lining it on the right every few yards.
“Weare passing beneath the Institute for Marine Studies and will soon be entering a special section. You are very fortunate. This is a maximum-security area you will be entering.”
“I’mflattered.” Rourke kept altering his stride to work muscle groups differently, flexing his upper and forearms, moving his fingers, loosening his shoulders as subtly as he could.
Atthe end of the long corridor there was a more massive watertight door, and beside it something that looked like an alarm switch. Kerenin signaled one of the guards to activate it. It proved to be nothing more than a doorbell. Television cameras mounted over the watertight door—he had noticed eameras in other portions of the complex as well—buzzed and hummed, scanning.
