Retalio

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Retalio Page 28

by Alison Morton


  ‘Good evening, Achim. Always a pleasure to see you. What can I do for you? Or is this a social call?’

  ‘No, it isn’t. What are you up to, Aurelia?’

  I wiped my hands on my moleskin trousers.

  ‘Actually, I’ve been in my grounds, pruning some unwanted growth, so you’ll excuse my rather casual appearance. But you’re welcome to come and take a coffee with me.’ I looked over at the booted and armed policemen just behind Achim. ‘And your, er, friends, of course.’

  ‘I don’t have time for Kaffeeklatsch. I have information you have an arms stockpile here that could start a war. As a courtesy I’ve left my troops outside the gate. But if I don’t get a good answer – the truth – I’m going to tear this place apart.’

  ‘Such a shame when it’s your mother’s house,’ I murmured and sent a silent prayer up to Mars. Apart from a couple of dozen personal weapons, everything had gone south via Graz. ‘Well,’ I continued. ‘Some of our people have licences as members of shooting clubs, as the Gendarmerie records must show. Obviously, they’re kept in a locked cupboard. The caretaker has a couple of shotguns for killing vermin.’ I looked him in the face. ‘I rather thought we had all the necessary permits, but I will ask the steward to check.’

  The gods knew what he would have said if he’d seen the convoys heaving with arms and equipment setting off the day before yesterday. They’d been disguised mostly in Klettermann Spedition lorries, but some had been in their original state; we’d had no time to do anything else.

  ‘Get your steward in here. I’ll take a look around while I’m here.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said as smoothly as I could. ‘I’m not sure where he is at the moment, but we’ll find him.’ I nodded at the clerk who lifted her desk telephone and gabbled into it, relaying my message asking Vibianus to bring the housebook and gun licences for inspection.

  ‘Come and sit down while we wait for him.’

  I took a few steps up the corridor and opened the first door on the right, turned and extended my arm in invitation. He scowled but, gesturing his men to stay put, followed me. The clerk stared at me anxiously but I calmly asked her to bring coffee. Just before I shut the door I saw her scuttle off in the direction of the kitchen.

  Achim sat there staring round at nothing. The room was furnished with four chain store easy chairs and a low table. A vase of fresh flowers stood on a small table behind us. The only other furniture was a bookcase in an alcove to the left of the fireplace and some shelves with a built-in cupboard underneath to the right. We used the room for visitors we didn’t want to let into the main rooms of the house. I forced myself to relax into the softness of the plastic seat.

  ‘Why are you so angry, Achim?’

  ‘Because you have no regard for the law. You seem to think you can waltz through life doing exactly as you want without caring about the consequences for anybody else.’

  ‘That’s unfair and you know it. I’m sorry you wouldn’t speak to me after the trial in Berlin – what, nearly fifteen years ago? I did appreciate your deep loss at your former partner’s betrayal, but it wasn’t my fault. Yes, I was the one who exposed that he was on the take from Caius Tellus’s contact in Berlin, but I wasn’t the one deceiving you. You must have had my letter explaining all that.’ He shrugged. I put my hand out to cover his. He tensed, but didn’t pull away. ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to reconcile with you.’ I smiled at him. ‘I’ve missed my big Brandenburg cousin.’

  He said nothing. He gave me not a smile, but a lightening of the tension in his face. ‘It still doesn’t excuse any illegal activities you’re up to at the moment,’ he growled.

  ‘Give me a little slack, Achim. You know I wouldn’t do anything to upset our hosts here in New Austria. We keep ourselves to ourselves and don’t ask anything of you.’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘And who on earth thought we had an arms stockpile?’ I laughed, hopefully in a convincing way.

  His face closed up. Damn. In truth, I thought we’d been extremely careful. The Brits had delivered the weapons discreetly, probably with false number plates on their vehicles. We’d only had everything here for a few days, just time to clean and issue it. Gods, we’d better warn the depot in Graz. I fidgeted, trying to think of a way of getting rid of Achim, when the door opened with Junia carrying a tray of coffee. Why was she acting as a servant? I followed her movements, watching for any signal as she filled two cups and handed one to Achim. She half turned so Achim couldn’t see her face and extended her hand with a cup for me. She winked once, then turned and left. Thank the gods!

  ‘I don’t know where the steward has got to. When you’ve finished your coffee, I’ll show you around.’

  The kitchen was full of intense chopping of vegetables, stirring and clattering of pans, the former ballroom with people packing up their files for the day, standing in ones and twos or tidying desks. The signals office was transformed into a ‘training room’ with people sweating over keyboards, struggling with the new concept of computers. One cried out with joy as he retrieved his printed work from the noisy printer. A stern-faced Volusenia, posing as a tutor, told him to get on with the next exercise or he’d never master it. Others sat around reading magazines with their feet up.

  Out in the stable block there were no vehicles except three vans and a couple of old lorries in their garages, the mixed smell of motor fuel and manure and two people leading a pair of rather sluggish mounts over the cobbles for an early evening ride.

  We found Vibianus in his office, clucking over a file and muttering ‘damned water bill’. He looked up, his face showing annoyance at the interruption.

  ‘Vibianus. Didn’t you get my message that the gendarmerie were here and wished to inspect the gun licences?’

  ‘Domina, I apologise. I’ve just had a crisis about our water and sewage bills and thought I could sort it out in a minute or two. Obviously not.’ He flipped the file shut with a sharp flick. I barely prevented myself from laughing.

  ‘Very well, steward. Please find the gun licences.’

  He looked baffled. ‘I didn’t think we were due to send in a return yet.’

  Gods, he was playing it for all he was worth.

  ‘Nevertheless, Commissioner Huber has come especially to check, so please find the file.’

  Vibianus rummaged in the filing cabinet and pulled out a file. He opened it with an exaggerated gesture and a sigh and plonked it on his desk. As Achim bent to read it, Vibianus shot a look at me and nodded. He unlocked the gun cabinet in the room leading from his and made Achim a little bow. The rifles were placed neatly with individual barrel rests and dividers, name tags below, in almost offensive innocence. When Achim left with a brief nod to me, I let my breath out very slowly.

  * * *

  ‘Mars’ balls! Make that a double,’ I ordered the barwoman.

  ‘Counter that,’ Volusenia barked from behind me. ‘You’re going into theatre. I don’t want you falling over drunk.’

  ‘A single then.’ I nodded to the woman behind the counter.

  ‘I’ve bollocked the gate guard for letting that scarab through,’ Volusenia said as we flopped down on chairs.

  ‘Probably didn’t have much option with Achim standing there in stroppy policeman mode with a couple of wagons full of riot police.’

  ‘True, true. Well, it won’t hurt for them to toughen up. But our cover-up worked well and we didn’t lose much time. However, you and Junia Sestina better get moving. The convoy by the western border post is ready to move as soon as you get there. Your call sign is Aquila Zero. The Air Roma Nova pilot is standing by to take you. She was a little unhappy at flying such a tiny plane, but I explained it was her duty and she should get on with it.’

  * * *

  Just under an hour later, Junia and I were at the private business airport south-west of Vienna and twenty minutes after that squeezed into a tiny plane behind the grumpy Air Roma Nova pilot.

  ‘I missed
my first slot because of your delay in getting here and it was touch and go getting clearance for so late a flight.’

  ‘Well, we’re here now,’ I said, fastening my seat belt and making a face behind the pilot’s back at Junia. She grinned back. ‘So shall we get going?’

  The pilot was correct; dusk was nearly on us. Even though it took only a little over forty minutes to reach the tiny airfield west of Graz tucked in a valley just outside the Roma Nova border, the light had gone by the time we landed. A short wheelbase met us and soon we were on the road. Along with the throbbing diesel engine, my heart pounded. In less than an hour, I would be walking on Roma Novan soil.

  Just before 9 p.m. we arrived at the New Austrian frontier post where the border policeman took one look at us then shouted something into his office. A brown-haired woman and man in dark green clothes emerged into the gloom only lit by an overhead lamp. They spotted my and Junia’s gold badges clipped to our jackets, snapped to attention and saluted us.

  ‘Good evening, ma’am. We were expecting you both an hour ago but were advised by central command that you had been delayed. If you carry on about fifty metres down the road, you’ll find your convoy. They’re flying blue flag front, green flag back, and I’ve been left this for you.’

  She handed our driver a convoy flag: top diagonal yellow gold, lower diagonal imperial purple. A Roma Nova field commander’s flag. I cleared my throat then swallowed.

  ‘Thank you, optio, good to be home again.’

  37

  Phase II had been given the operational name of Rubicon to reflect the momentous crossing in 29 BC by Julius Caesar with an army in defiance of the imperium – the right to command – held by the consuls at the time. His swift action had caused Pompey and the Senate to flee en masse. I was no Caesar but thought that would be an excellent outcome today. Except we had to capture Caius; that would be our challenge in this century.

  We passed a few checkpoints in the dark and stopped to let down troops to set up more in between. We had to ensure the road was completely safe before we could allow people like Volusenia, Quirinia and, more importantly, Silvia, to enter the country.

  When we stopped to refuel, one of the women who helped us was in a Roma Nova land forces uniform.

  ‘I hid it away, ma’am.’ She looked at me under the shielded field light as we clustered under the camouflage nets. ‘I buried it in a bin bag in the garden, but I knew one day I’d need it again.’ She secured the fuel tank lid then wiped her hands on a rag. ‘There you are, ma’am. She’s full. That should take you right into the centre of Roma Nova city.’

  I could say nothing but clasped arms with her.

  The rhythmic vibration of the diesel engine was soothing. I thought I’d feel more excitement, but I was strangely calm, isolated even. I didn’t even want to speak to Junia, my closest colleague. She sat back against her seat and stared blankly into the darkness. I dozed off as we trundled on for kilometre after kilometre.

  I jerked awake as the driver braked hard. Two heavily armed figures in full military battledress loomed in front of us. I could see a few red half-lights dotted over a wide area ahead. We’d reached the perimeter of the western harbour point. After our ID was checked, Junia and I grabbed our rucksacks and followed a young woman who escorted us to the command post. Atrius was bent over a trestle table with maps spread out and held at the corners by small rocks. Half a dozen women and men stood around, murmuring and pointing. They looked up as we pushed the double canvas flaps aside.

  ‘Major!’ Atrius said. He stood straight and saluted. He had brown rings of exhaustion in the sunken flesh round his eyes.

  ‘At ease, centurion,’ I said, went over to him and clasped forearms. ‘Congratulations on a well-executed operation. Imperatrix Silvia sends her compliments.’

  He looked away for an instant. I might have been mistaken in the dim light but I thought he blushed.

  ‘Report.’ I was back in full military mode.

  ‘We had some light resistance. Some vigiles and a couple of nats. We’ve interrogated the vigiles. But they had nothing of any significance, just routine checks now and again from their central station, paperwork and the occasional intervention by the nats. They kept it very formal with us. Then we tackled the nats. Easy to do, they’re such cowards. Much more interesting – they had new handheld radios and new communication codes. One of my signals people said their frequency cards were in English.’

  ‘Send them back to Colonel Volusenia.’

  ‘Already done.’ He grinned, then slumped forward. He thrust his hand out onto the table to steady himself.

  ‘When did you last rest, Atrius?’

  ‘No time,’ he mumbled.

  I pulled him to one side. ‘You introduce me to your staff here and then you go straight for rest. And I mean immediately.’

  * * *

  Atrius’s number two was a former estate manager from near Aquae Caesaris. She’d been reduced to working in her own fields; the only other option she’d been given was to be dragged off to a work camp. Although her workers ostensibly obeyed the new supervisor they’d stayed loyal to her. She had that crisp, managing air and seemed to have the rest of the troops, regular and irregular, well controlled. I was confident she would manage the harbour area with polite but ruthless efficiency while Atrius rested.

  Junia confirmed staffing, patrol and operating procedures with her then ran a briefing group with the junior commanders while I dictated messages back to Volusenia and confirmed the coordinates for our next steps.

  I only had to wait twenty minutes for Volusenia to give me the Phase III Scipio order. We had to keep going or we’d lose our advantage, but I was still worried about meeting regular troops and having to engage them. We still hadn’t heard anything from the magister militum either way. He knew Volusenia and would talk to her while I wasn’t there. If he wanted to.

  After a quick coffee and meat rolls we climbed back in our short wheelbase, and with scouts ahead of us and our new convoy of nearly two hundred souls behind us, we set out for Roma Nova city.

  * * *

  ‘Incoming!’ shrieked the radio operator in the seat in front of us. We shoved the doors open and dived for the ditches at the side of the road. I threw myself down so fast I winded myself. Gods, the pain that gripped my middle. Had to stay calm. Relax. Must get hands over ears. Too late.

  The light and long whistle came first, then the brain-splitting noise of the explosion and the thump, the shock wave rumbling through the ground. I sucked in air, coughing and spluttering, trying to capture my breath. The second short wheelbase crew was already tracking the path of the ordnance. It had hit trees to the north side of the road; they burned white then yellow and orange, their black branches contrasting with the consuming firelight. My ears were ringing bells. I raised my head and my shoulders to see better, but Junia pushed me down into the frozen mud.

  ‘Wait,’ she hissed at me. From my restricted view, I could just about see a man and woman belly-crawl towards us across the verge. He had a radio backpack.

  ‘Convoy centurion’s compliments, ma’am,’ he whispered. ‘She says you are to remain here for the next ten minutes while we try and contact the scouts.’

  I eased up and nodded. He spoke quietly but precisely into his mouthpiece. After a few moments his radio earpiece buzzed with a voice crackle.

  ‘Scouts intact,’ he relayed. ‘No sign of military units.’ He frowned. ‘Say again,’ he whispered into the microphone. He listened, glanced at me, then whispered, ‘Out.’

  ‘Scout commander confirms her original message – no sign of military.’

  ‘Then who in Hades is lobbing ordnance of that size at us?’

  ‘Incoming!’ A shout travelled down the convoy.

  We flattened ourselves, hugging the ground. This time I slammed my hands over my ears in time. As the ground rumble faded I looked round. My impression was that it hadn’t been so loud, or the blast so strong. A cloud of smoke was rising a go
od way south of our route, at least a kilometre away.

  ‘That’s bloody sloppy shooting,’ Junia mumbled.

  I gestured to the radio operator. ‘Tell the convoy centurion to get that DF’d and send a security detachment out to investigate the source. I’ll eat my boots if those rockets came from a regular artillery unit.’

  A chuckle from my side. Junia.

  ‘That’s a bit rash. Do you know how tough your walking boots are?’

  ‘Ha!’ I replied. ‘If that detail can’t pinpoint the source by some basic direction finding, then they can go back to Vienna and drive taxis.’

  I fretted about the delay but we stayed down. Two larger vehicles with machine guns mounted on the cab roofs set off across the fields on the south side of the road. I tracked them with my night-vision binoculars. About twenty metres away they stopped bumping up and down and ran more smoothly. They’d hit a made-up road. They slowed down, stopped and troops piled out and formed into four small groups in a crescent shape. Classic pincer.

  They advanced carefully on some black shapes which looked like a hut with a vehicle parked outside, but I couldn’t see much more. Suddenly, bursts of fire rang out. Our troops used four-to-one tracer rounds so we could watch where they poured on their fire. After a minute they stopped. Through the binoculars I watched them advance, the centre group enter the hut and drag out two, possibly three, figures. Ten minutes later they were back to the convoy. We stood up as the first truck braked.

  Three men with nationalists’ armbands, hands secured behind them, were pulled none too gently from the back of the lorry. One had blood dribbling from his nose.

  ‘These miserable little shits thought they were big boy soldiers,’ the optio said and pushed one forward. He had smuts all over his face and limped. ‘They were making a pig’s breakfast out of using the new SMAWs the EUS military are introducing. We’ve brought them with us and all the rockets we could find.’

 

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