Survivalist - 20 - Firestorm Read online

  He’d brought the rifle in case some of the KGB people who had escaped the battle might have taken refuge here in the partially constructed permanent base. Certainly, it had been checked, but what if the Russians doubled back?

  He reached the foundation and partially erected walls of the community center, snow drifted high as a man’s waist in some areas, construction equipment, much of it undamaged despite the attack, all but covered in snow.

  “You may stop there, Commander.”

  Dodd stopped in mid-stride. Damien Rausch had been insane, of course, but mere was a certain civility about him, a certain pleasantness when he spoke. Freidrich Rausch had none of these qualities, only the insanity, the ruthlessness, but none of the veneer of humanity.

  “May I turn around?”

  “You are armed, Commander.”

  “Yes. I thought there might be Russians about.”

  “There were three. Trust me. You are safe now.”

  Dodd slowly started to turn, and, as he did, his eyes saw something red partially covered by a snowdrift in one of the corners made by two unfinished walls.

  It was a body, or at least part of one …

  She lay in their cot and watched him as he cleaned his guns. Sarah Rourke had seen her husband cleaning his little .45s more times than she could remember, but there was something especially meticulous about the way he did it tonight.

  She watched him until he was finished. He closed the lubricant-it had a nice enough smell-and walked over to the cot. He placed both pistols on the chair that was beside bis side. “111 have to wash my hands.”

  Sarah Rourke wondered if that meant he wanted to make love to her. She wanted him to, but her thoughts were still filled with images of Damien Rausch and the body of Maritza Zeiss and she didn’t know if she could get those thoughts out of her mind and her heart…

  *

  Jason Darkwood, in a bathrobe and combat boots, a sweater around his shoulders, sat in the chair beside bis bed, his face pale-looking, small lines around his eyes from pain, the eyes slightly glassy-looking with medication. Rourke knew what Darkwood was taking, knew that it would not otherwise dull Darkwood’s perceptions.

  The only outers in the curtained cubicle were Paul, Michael, Sam Aldridge, Wolfgang Mann and Doctor Munchen. Colonel Mann had ordered this segment of die complex of tents which comprised the field hospital cleared of all but those patients who were sedated. His commandoes were posted around the tent.

  John Rourke spoke. “We have a very serious problem. In some respects, ifs more my problem and Michael’s and Paul’s than anyone else’s; but, in some ways, ifs a problem for the German command and the Mid-Wake officer corps. Contrary to the news we released last night, the semen test results were positive, not inconclusive.”

  Jason Darkwood raised his head.

  Rourke continued. “We know that Captain Darkwood is innocent. Granted, we had no doubt of that from the first, those of us who know him, but now mere’s conclusive proof, the sort of thing that would stand up in a court of law, if need be.” Rourke paused for several seconds, rolling his unlit cigar in his fingers. Then, he felt himself smile. Tm gratified that no one bothered to ask why we let out erroneous information. Because the answer is obvious. As long as Jason Darkwood is considered too weak to provide another sample at this time-the medication for his concussion has induced temporary impotence-“

  “Thanks a lot,” Darkwood said, his voice strained but a smile on his hps.

  Sam Aldridge cleared his throat, sounding as though he were stifling a laugh.

  John Rourke went on. “If Captain Darkwood were killed before another sample could be arranged for, Commander Dodd would be in the clear. Crime of passion responsible for the death of the only person who could have conclusively linked Dodd with Damien Rausch, the Nazi conspirator. If murder by a third party is proven, Dodd could be implicated. It would certainly-has certainly-put Commander Dodd under a cloud. Consequently, the real mur

  derer, if we can make things attractive enough for him, will try to rectify his oversight. When the blow was struck to Captain Darkwood’s neck, as Doctor Munchen and I agree, evidently the reaction time-” And, now, Rourke looked at Darkwood. “Your reaction time. It was very good. You saved your life without knowing it. When you realized you were being struck, in that split second, you ducked just enough that the blow delivered to you wasn’t strong enough to kill. Our killer was very confident, so confident that he never thoroughly checked that you were dead. What we want is for him to attempt to rectify that situation, kill you, Jason.”

  “Thanks a lot,” he nodded again, his eyes showing the strain of his pain.

  John Rourke bit down on the end of his cigar. “Doctor Munchen will arrange for certain patients to be transferred to the still standing portions of the hospital at the German base. JasonH be one of the patients transferred there for extensive recuperation. The other patients, as it were, will be Mid-Wake personnel under the command of Captain Aldridge and some of Colonel Mann’s personal commando force.

  “The chief physician will be Doctor Munchen,” Rourke continued, “but the rest of his staff will be Mid-Wake and German personnel. If we’re lucky, the secret will remain a secret and Freidrich Rausch will go for die bait. Then we kill him. Let me reiterate that, gendemen, since hell be coming for my wife if he remains alive. We kill him.”

  Sam Aldridge nodded and whispered, “Amen to that, Doctor Rourke.”

  “We can’thave the place looking more guarded than it should be. I understand that the hurricane in the Gulf is still blowing and reinforcements will be further delayed. In this case, that’s to our advantage. We’ll have to leave enough people at Eden Base to protect it. That means that proportionately fewer personnel will be available to guard the hospital at what remains of the German base. That makes Freidrich Rausch’s chances all the better for success, all the more inviting.”

  Sam Aldridge asked, “Where’s Mrs. Rourke, Doctor?”

  “For now, she’s under guard by some of Colonel Mann’s people, Sam. When this goes down, shell be far away from here and very safe. Trust that.”

  “And what about Dodd?” Jason Darkwood sounded very tired, looked it, too.

  John Rourke studied his cigar, then looked up. “Unless we take Rausch alive on the assumption that hell talk-which he wouldn’t do voluntarily and we might not be able to get him to do with drugs-there’ll likely be no way of making a firm connection between Commander Dodd and the brothers Rausch and the Neo-Nazi movement in New Germany. So, the answer to the obvious question is, no, we won’t be able to do anything about Dodd. He’s going to have to make a bigger mistake than this. Eden’s repopulation for Earth is based on the same system in place at Mid-Wake and, since the overthrow of the leader, in New Germany. In a democratic republic under a system of laws where innocence is presumed until otherwise proven, we don’t have a shred of evidence beyond the circumstantial. So, the only way to rid ourselves of Commander Dodd would be to depose him illegally. I don’t think we have the right to do that. We can keep pressuring him to hold free elections, but not until the war-footing here has eased a bit. If Eden were to hold free elections today, Akiro Kurinami would undoubtedly be elected president.”

  “Not to be a wet blanket, Doctor, but Georgia is United States territory. Those space shuttles are United States aircraft. For the past five centuries,” Jason Darkwood said, speaking slowly, deliberately, “the government of Mid-Wake has been the government of the United States.”

  John Rourke shook his head, saying, “You’re right, of course, in theory. But the personnel here are not representatives of the United States. They’re representatives of every NATO, SEATO and OAS nation, almost every free nation on Earth which ascribed to the same principles as the United States prior to the Night of the War. This is an international community. The government established here won’t be a new United States. Granted, Eden Base is on what was once and may still legally be U.S. soil. Tharll be something for the governme
nt seated at Mid-Wake to work out with Eden Base, but only after Eden Base has a government to negotiate with.”

  Colonel Wolfgang Mann cleared his throat, inhaling the instant before he spoke. “Back to the subject of Herr Rausch. Should Freidrich Rausch not be apprehended, there is nowhere on earth

  where Frau Rourke would be safe. I would offer sanctuary in New Germany, but the death of my own wife proved to me that if the Nazis wish to kill someone in New Germany, for the time being at least, they can do so and the forces of law and government are powerless to stop diem. Certainly, the assassin might be apprehended, but not until his foul deed is done. What will happen, Herr Doctor, should Rausch not make an attempt on the life of Captain Darkwood? Or, for that matter, should Rausch make such an attempt and make good his escape as well?”

  “Shell be safe, Colonel.”

  “Until?”

  Rourke looked at him, smiled. “Shell be safe until Rausch is no longer a threat. I realize The Retreat was discovered by Rausch’s brother, penetrated by taking advantage of Kurinami and because of superior numbers. But when Rausch’s brother, Damien, died, he was the last of the men to have reached The Retreat. The secret died with him. Aside from a very few persons, persons whom I trust implicitly, the location of and means of entry to The Retreat remains a secret. Sarah will be there, but not alone. Tve taken steps mat as soon as Major Tiemerovna is well enough to travel from Mid-Wake, both die and my daughter, Paul’s wife, will join Sarah at The Retreat.

  “We’re coming down to it,” John Rourke concluded, “to an end to this war, one way or the other. The women have endured enough danger. No more.”

  Chapter Eight

  John Rourke turned on the lights and sluffed out of his parka. The Retreat.

  He walked down the three steps to the floor of the Great Room. Til get the hot water and everything started,” Paul said, leaving his side.

  John Rourke only nodded. Paul Rubenstein knew the Retreat’s systems as well as he did.

  Rourke walked across the Great Room floor, dropping his coat on the arm of the couch. The couch, despite the business with the gunfight between Kurinami and the Neo-Nazis, seemed none the worse for wear. Sarah must have been reading his thoughts, a disturbing idea in light of their daughter’s singular abilities. “I was able to repair the bullet holes. Just temporary repairs, but I thought you’d want me to. With all the time Fll have here, I can make a permanent job of it.”

  “It’s a good old couch,” Rourke told his wife, sitting down on it on the side nearest the gun cabinets. He could see Paul, just past the kitchen, in the work room, inspecting the motorcycles, the old Harley-Davidson Low Riders. One day, there’d be a time for boarding them again, going out across the land.

  He hoped, knew Paul did.

  Til get you a drink,” Sarah said, walking toward the kitchen counter, up the three steps, leaning against it for a moment. “Are you all right?”

  “Just thinking what Ml make for dinner tonight. Can you stay?”

  There was no need to consult the Rolex on his left wrist, but out of habit Rourke did so anyway. “Fd like to more than almost anything, but Darkwood will be moved into the hospital at the German Base by now. I have to get back, in case Freidrich Rausch strikes tonight.”

  Sarah was pouring from one of the bottles of whiskey made up for him by the Germans. John Rourke had given them a sample of Seagrams Seven and asked them to duplicate it. They produced one thousand gallons for him. Although the bottles were different, the taste was identical and the supply would last him a lifetime at the modest rate with which he consumed liquor. “You do have time for the drink, don’t you?”

  “Sure,” Rourke told his wife. He noticed she wasn’t having one, because of the baby, he knew. He started to get up, but she was already bringing the glass down to him. She handed him the drink and he sipped at the whiskey. “Memories, hmm?”

  Sarah smiled, sitting down beside him, but on the edge of the couch. Td be all right here by myself until Annie and Natalia and Maria arrive. You might want Paul with you.”

  Rourke sipped again from his glass, men set it down. “Oh, indeed I would. But I’m not leaving you here alone with Rausch out there. Paul would die for you, just like I would.”

  Sarah cleared her throat, the sound barely audible. Rourke looked at bis wife. “Did it ever occur to you that Fd rather have you live for me, John?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Fm tired of war. Sometimes - and understand how I mean this -maybe the ones who died were the lucky ones, the ones who died instantly during the Night of the War.”

  Rourke took a cigar from his shirt pocket.

  Sarah began to speak again. “It’s not a death wish. After all we’ve been through, Fd be an idiot to give it up now. It’s not that. Just, I, ahh-I just wish things could be different. I don’t want our baby to grow up in a world like this.”

  John Rourke took out his Zippo.

  “I mean, I know we’ve got great expectations from this new alliance with Mid-Wake, but the Russians aren’t just going to lie down and die, either. This thing could go on for decades. Ifs already been going on for five centuries, John.”

  Rourke leaned forward and set his cigar and lighter down on the coffee table, then put his left arm around his wife’s shoulders. “But it won’t. The Russians under the sea have full nuclear capabilities. If we don’t stop this war soon, there won’t be a planet left to live on. So, it’ll all be over, one way or the other, rather soon. Trust me on that. And, if we don’t win, at least well die knowing we tried. But I think we are going to win. Because we can’t let them win. So don’t worry, Sarah.”

  Her body shivered. She leaned her head against his chest. “If there is peace?”

  “There’s a whole world that’s going to need people in it, a world that isn’t polluted anymore, isn’t overcrowded, doesn’t have a drug problem. It could be a good world if we make it that. And, we

  will. Ifd be easy to be a pessimist, but in a strange way the world was given a second chance. And ifU be up to Michael’s children and Annie’s and Paul’s children and the child you’re carrying to

  I make that second chance last forever. And they can do it. We just

  * have to keep trying.”

  “I love you, John Thomas Rourke,” Sarah Rourke whispered.

  I John Rourke touched his hps to his wife’s forehead …

  Dinner smelled good, Sarah always a fine cook. He wouldn’t be eating it. Rourke told himself there would be other dinners, other I times. He smiled as he reflected that he had just summarized the bulk of his married life with Sarah. Paul stood beside him at the gun cabinets. John Rourke slid back | one of the glass doors over the handgun section and took down | from a set of wall pegs a gun he’d sent to New Germany with very f specific instructions.

  ] “I never had any particular fondness for suppressors, when I was s with Central Intelligence or otherwise,” Rourke told his friend. “But recently, Tve been noticing an occasional need for a more silent shot. Especially with Natalia’s Walther being unavailable to us now. And, as much as Fm not the world’s greatest admirer of the 9mm Parabellum, there’s something to be said for having a large capacity pistol available at times.”

  “That’s a Smith and Wesson, isn’t it? But one of the Third Generation guns.”

  “Yes,” Rourke nodded. “Ifs a 6906.” The pistol was about the size of one of Rourke’s Detonics mini-guns, brushed stainless steel with the black factory grips.

  “The barrel protrudes past the slide for attachment of a silencer, right?”

  Rourke smiled. He suddenly remembered the Paul Rubenstein f of that day at the wrecked aircraft, not knowing one gun from an-j other as they’d picked through the pile of arms taken from the dead I Brigand bikers, arming Paul with the battered old Browning High j Power and the German MP-40 submachine gun Paul still regularly { carried. Rourke took the suppressor out of a drawer beneath the j glassed-in portion of the case. It was black and eight
inches long. “You thread it on just like an ordinary barrel extension. Then you lock it into place with an Allen head wrench. The wrench nests in here,” Rourke showed him, “in this slot on the side of the unit itself. Just twist and pull it out, use it to tighten the suppressor once it’s threaded on, then reinsert k in the side here and twist and the wrench is anchored in place until you need it again to remove the unit. The slide’s been fitted with a lock to seal the breach. Thafs where a lot of the gas escapes and makes noise on pistols which aren’t fitted with a lock. I had Colonel Mann’s people make me up a batch of subsonic ammunition. The recoil spring was specially modified-the tension reduced-so the pistol would function with the lower energy loads without having to trick up the gun by lightening the slide. They used to do that with movie guns, sometimes, lighten the slide so the action would cycle with blanks. Same idea, basically, but we were able to avoid that. The magazines I have for it all have the feed hps adjusted for the peculiar shape of the bullet itself.”

  Rourke opened a plain black plastic box, taking from it one of the special subsonic cartridges. The bullet was coated with a black plastic, along the lines of the Nyclad ammunition made by Federal before the Night of the War. But the bullet, although a hollow point, was more truncated and longer than conventional 9mm Parabellums. “Twelve rounds in the magazine. After each shot, if you use the slide lock, work the lock down, cycle the action by hand and raise the lock for the next shot. Without the lock being raised, the pistol functions as it normally would, but of course the noise suppression isn’t quite as effective. Depends on the situation in which you’re using it.”

  Rourke set the pistol and suppressor down, then looked at his friend. “When Annie and Natalia and Maria get here, I want you to talk with Annie alone,” Rourke told Paul. Rourke’s hands were sweating. “If, in her judgement, Natalia’s pretty much all right, then do as we planned. Rejoin me. If there’s any doubt in Annie’s mind about Natalia’s stability under the controlled circumstances here, just have the pilot get a message to me or use the radio. But stay put. The Retreat should be as safe as church. Thafs from the outside. Know what I mean, Paul?”