Plague Bomb tz-6

by James Rouch

  ‘That is most interesting, Major. Can you tell me, precisely what are the casualty figures?’

  ‘Preliminary reports are vague, but it would appear… that the unit has ceased to exist, Comrade Colonel.’

  ‘Then it would seem that the casualties are very heavy indeed. I presume in that case that there are no eye witnesses to the attack.’ Getting no response, Rozenkov drove relentlessly on. ‘Would the unit be one of those you have indicated on my map?’ Still there was nothing from the liaison officer. ‘Ah, then their loss will not affect the outcome, the successful outcome, of this KGB operation.’

  ‘No… Comrade Colonel.’ The words near choked him. It had been a trap, but so carefully prepared and concealed that he was snared before he even knew it was there.

  As he left the room he was already planning his next move. If word of this ever leaked to Military Intelligence GHQ, then it would do him no good at all. To outweigh that, if it should ever happen, it was more vital than ever that he turn the whole operation to the advantage of the GRU. Whatever the risk, whatever the cost, he must make sure it was a unit under his control that intercepted the civilian peace delegation.

  This was not the time for finesse, for subtlety, it was determined and if need be ruthless action that was called for. Speed was of paramount importance but he no longer dared use the scrambler phone in his office in this building. There was an unwritten agreement between the two intelligence agencies that a liaison officer’s communications with his HQ should not be intercepted, but Morkov was a realist in a harsh world and was aware that if the line was not already bugged, it would be soon.

  Leaving the building would be reported to Rozenkov, and regarded with suspicion but there was no choice. For what he was setting in motion he needed to be certain of utter secrecy. The only way he could feel confident of that was by returning in person to GRU headquarters and using their transmitter.

  When he reached the exit the five minute wait while his car was summoned from the motor pool was agonizing. For fear of being overheard by the white gloved KGB guard who sprang forward to open the door for him, and was slow in closing it, he waited until they were moving into the traffic flow before instructing his driver.

  From the picture window of his top floor office, from behind two inches of armour glass that slightly distorted the view, Rozenkov watched the liaison officer’s hurried departure, and that of the anonymous grey Moskvich saloon that followed at a discreet distance. The tail was hardly necessary, he could be quite certain as to where the major was heading, but he had already learned the hard way not to underestimate the man’s ambition; he was not about to make the same mistake over his desperation.

  Leaving the window, he crossed to his desk and picked up the internal telephone. His own operator responded instantly, but there was a perceptible delay before the section he asked for answered. He made a mental note for future reference and action.

  ‘Rozenkov… I shall want a transcript of all transmissions from GRU headquarters made in the next hour. Have them sent to me as fast as they are decoded… then get the extra men you need!’ He made another note, and the need for a shake-up of the Radio Traffic Interception section moved higher in his list of priorities, taking second place behind the obtaining of a GRU liaison officer.

  ‘Pity those bloody civvies didn’t stay put in that holiday village, or whatever it was. If they had we’d have been on our way home by now.’ On the major’s instruction Burke had slowed the Marder to a walking pace as the road topped a ridge, and brought it to a halt in a hull-down position while the officer, their NCO and the girl went forward to reconnoitre the route ahead.

  ‘Anybody want a hand of cards while we’re waiting?’ Rippling the thick greasy deck, Dooley looked around, but there were no takers. ‘Come on you mean bastards. You can’t take it with you.’

  ‘Ain’t that the truth.’ Swallowing the antibiotic and painkiller Thorne had handed him, Ripper pulled a face at the plastic tainted taste of the tepid water he used to wash them down. ‘But if I ain’t takin’ it with me, I sure don’t see any reason for makin’ a gift of it to you before I go.’

  Taking care not to bump the wide lens of the powerful infra-red camera against the sides of the hatch, Boris lowered it to the bench, before climbing down himself and starting to stow the equipment.

  ‘Managed to get any good dirty pictures with that recently? Anything saleable?’ Reluctantly returning the cards to his pocket, Dooley took out a well-thumbed back copy of Forum and began to flick through it, having to squint closely to see the detail of small photographs illustrating an article on lesbianism. ‘If you could use all that fancy gear to get a few shots like this,’ he held the small booklet open towards the Russian, ‘we could make a few bucks. You know, that’s a business I wouldn’t mind going in for when I get out.’

  ‘I thought you were off to Florida to offer your services to all the wrinkled old widows. There can’t be much of a market for pictures of them.’ Burke shuddered at the thought. ‘Horrible, all wispy grey hair and sagging tits.’

  ‘Yeah, well I am still going there, but I can have a sideline can’t I?’ In the poor light of the compartment Dooley was having to strain his eyes to see the pages, and gave up. ‘Anyway, I don’t go for the real elderly crows, just the nice plump mature ones, those still able to remember what it was like, and fancy a refresher course with an Adonis like me.’

  ‘I think you can forget about doing either.’

  Watching the contamination monitor, Clarence saw it edge a fraction higher as a gust of wind buffeted the APC on the exposed ridge. Another couple of points and they would have to put on the respirators. The prophylactics they took in such quantities could not be guaranteed to work in so polluted an atmosphere. ‘We would just be lying to ourselves if we ever imagined we’re going to get out of the Zone, except in a box.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’ Revell stamped the dust from his overshoes before entering. ‘Looks like the Russians let fly with all this chemical muck without licking their fingers to test which way the wind was blowing. Some of it came right back in their faces. This saturated area extends much further on their side than they’ve admitted. There’s a village just over the hill, and it’s definitely not West German. A couple of miles back we must have crossed into Czechoslovakia. Did the infrared camera register anything interesting?’

  He’d been waiting to be asked, and Boris handed over the clearest of the three frames he had taken. The heat sensitive film had captured the small town in merging shades of muted red and blue. Some particularly distinctive individual buildings, like churches, could be identified, but of much more interest was the sprinkling of darker red spots, most of them on their own, but some in clusters, or lines. ‘I tried to count them, but there are so many?’

  ‘What are they?’ Having pushed in for a look, Andrea found she could not interpret the images.

  ‘Well a couple of them might be weak sunlight reflecting from glass, or bare metal. That large one,’ Boris indicated a red smudge, ‘is a petrol station. The underground storage tanks hold heat quite efficiently. But most of them are bodies. Decomposition will be keeping their flesh at a higher temperature than their surroundings. Those registering most strongly will be inside vehicles, be rotting more slowly.’

  ‘That is excellent. For once the war has been carried behind the iron curtain. I am pleased.’ Without asking she took the picture and examined it closely, trying to estimate the number of dead. ‘The Russians and their puppets have so far always fought the war beyond their own borders, I am very happy that this time their people have suffered.’

  ‘You evil bitch.’ Clarence could have hit her. ‘Those aren’t combat troops lying down there, that’s women and children.’

  ‘The communists have never hesitated to slaughter indiscriminately, you know that better than most, your own family…’

  ‘Be quiet, don’t say it.’

  Although the sniper said the words so softly they were hardly
a whisper, Andrea stopped in mid sentence. They looked at each other, her overspilling hatred meeting his coldly calculated determination, and each found its match.

  ‘Shouldn’t we be moving?’ Ripper lay between the two silent antagonists and the tension over him was like an axe poised to drop. ‘Hey, now don’t you start nothing, I’m in the middle. See, I’m wounded.’

  It was Andrea who broke the deadlock, but not to finish what she had been saying. Her voice was almost mechanical in its delivery. ‘There is no longer any hurry. Only one road leaves the town on the far side, and it is under water. The traitors will be going no further, we have only to go and… collect them?’

  Revell had been about to intervene when Ripper had spoken first, now he was glad he’d not. Inevitably he would have sided with her, and it would not have gone unnoticed. Even the eye contact that she and the sniper had maintained for so long had torn at him. ‘Let’s go. I want all ports manned. Thorne, get into the turret and pull the co-ax machine gun. Try rigging the flamethrower for use from there. The hoses should reach if you take it easy with the traverse. I haven’t seen any, but it’s possible the commies were waiting for them down there. I don’t want us to bumble unprepared into any welcoming party that might be in progress.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Major.’ Once again the bulky cylinders caused havoc and confusion as they were dragged half the length of the cramped interior by Thorne.

  ‘If they are, it’ll hot things up for them.’

  ‘There they are.’ Burke was first to spot the Range Rover, parked in the middle of the road a hundred yards ahead.

  A figure crouched beside the vehicle and as they approached stood, took a cautious step back, then hesitantly waved. Still clutching a wheel brace he held that half welcoming, half nervous pose then as the distance between him and the approaching APC shortened he saw the faded West German emblem on the Marder’s front, threw down the tool and ran.

  ‘After him.’

  The moment it took them to throw open the heavy rear door, and the penalty of having to run in the cumbersome NBC suits was too great a disadvantage to overcome. The man took the steps of a church four at a time and slammed the massive iron studded door before the squad reached the foot of the flight.

  ‘Shit, this place is built like a fortress.’ Dooley ran his hand over the large stone blocks of which the church was fashioned.

  Hyde and Revell took it in turns to shout through the stout double doors in an attempt to persuade the civilians to come out.

  ‘Our arrival must have come as a shock,’ Clarence sat on the steps. ‘After having come this far, I cant see them just tamely going back with us. They’ll simply sit tight and wait for their Russian chums to locate them.’

  ‘That seems to be about the size of it.’ Getting no response to his calls, Revell ceased, and stepped back to look up at the building’s high-set windows. ‘We can’t afford to hang around for long, but the orders said to use kid gloves, so we’ll give it a last try. In the meantime, back the Marder into a side alley, no point in advertising where we are to any sky-spies that the Ruskies send over. Check for another way into this place while I spell out the alternative to these damned civvies.’

  As he turned to the door again he realized that Andrea was close by his side. He liked her there, but he knew what her automatic response would be as soon as entry was gained. She would start shooting, and he couldn’t let that happen. ‘You stay with the Marder.’

  Andrea knew why Revell ordered that, and began to protest, but checked herself. Understanding his reasoning did not make it any easier to accept. Learning the skills of command was not going to be easy. With sullen reluctance she shouldered her M16 and followed the APC as it backed into a narrow street beside the church.

  Not bothering to listen as the major put the position to those inside, Thorne calculated the quantity of explosive he would need to blast a way in. ‘A couple of pounds of plastic will open the door. Save your lungs, Major, let me have my turn.’

  ‘Do that and we might just catch one of them behind it. Let’s see if Sergeant Hyde can find another entrance first. A side door ought to be easier to force than these great things.’ Damn it, damn them! Revell was tempted to give loud vent to his feelings for the benefit of the civilians, but knew it wouldn’t help, might even have the detrimental effect of reinforcing their obduracy if at the moment they were wavering. Telling them what he thought of them might be good for him, but it would as certainly eliminate any last chance of their cooperating.

  Using the butt of the assault shotgun he hammered on the deep grained wood and called one last time. Still there was no response. The timber of the door seemed to absorb all his words, but he felt sure they must have heard him. Damn them!

  ‘There’s a side door, but…’ Hyde had immediately to crush the rising hopes his first words had brought, ‘… but it’s made like this one, on a smaller scale, and I can hear them stacking pews or something against it.’

  With the sergeant’s report removing any lingering hope that they might effect a non-violent entry, still Revell grasped at one last straw. ‘Thorne, you’re the engineer, before we resort to brute force of the explosive kind, any other suggestions as to how we might get inside?’

  ‘The only thing I can think of, Major, is to try nudging the doors with the APC. Using crawler gear they’d have to give eventually, the brute weighs the best part of thirty tons. Those steps wouldn’t be any problem but this would.’ Thorne slid his boot on the smooth worn stone of the porch. ‘No grip. The tracks’ll just scrabble round and round.’

  ‘All right, the plastic it is, but the bare minimum. I want to take those civvies back alive, not in an assortment of body bags.’

  ‘It’ll just be an angel’s tap, Major.’ Having worked the lump of grey material until it was pliable, Thorne began to tamp it into an inch wide where the halves of the door came imperfectly together. ‘Of course, if I had my way I’d wouldn’t piddle about like this, I’d use a satchel charge and blow it, them and the whole bloody place off the face of the map. But, like the true artist I am, I know when restraint and understatement are called for, so for you I put aside the trowel and take up the palette knife.’

  ‘Have you finished?’

  ‘Ready when you are, Major. Just putting the fuse in now. Eh, while this isn’t on the scale I usually do things, I still think it might be sensible to, eh, take cover.’

  Thorne turned around to find he was talking to himself.

  FOURTEEN

  The antiseptic cream he’d dabbed on, and the bandage he’d wrapped about his hand had done nothing to ease Gross’s pain. Blood continued to seep through the soiled white windings.

  Out of sight at the far end of the church Webb could be heard dragging heavy carved furniture to pile against the side entrance. Edwards was laid on the bare stone by the font close to the main doors, where they’d dumped him when they had to clear the back of the Range Rover to find the tools for the wheel change.

  He looked about for Sherry Kane. She’d gone into a little side chapel, and he noticed how she swayed unsteadily on her feet. Nearly falling she had to clutch at a small altar for support and then slumped to the red carpet before it.

  ‘Not feeling too good?’ Gross stood over her, playing with his erection through his trouser pocket. ‘Fancy a bit of this to buck you up?’ Fuck it, he was running out of time. There would never be another opportunity and he’d always wanted to do it to her, ever since he’d seen her in that first film, when all those blokes had tossed off into her face. He’d have given anything to have changed places with each of them in turn, and have her blow bubbles and gurgle his with his spunk.

  They were still shouting outside, but he paid no attention. Slowly, enjoying the anticipation, he unzipped himself and eased the rigid lump of flesh into the open. The air felt cool on it, and holding it at its broad base by two fingers he wagged it over her head.

  ‘Look at this. Any of the studs in your films ever have one this
size?’

  ‘Get away from me, you pervert.’ Sherry would have screamed for help, but she hadn’t the strength. It felt like she was burning up, and her energy was leaking away with the sweat that soaked and trickled down inside her clothes. Even holding up her head took an effort she could barely sustain and then her supporting arms gave way and she dropped to sprawl full length on her back.

  ‘That’s more like it. Here, let me do that.’ Brushing aside the weak movements of her limp hands over the tight crotch of her jeans he fumbled at her zip, seeing encouragement in the gesture, not the rejection that was intended.

  The denim gaped to reveal pale blue cotton briefs, and as Gross tugged at her tightly cinched belt and unfastening it began to haul her jeans off, he felt the heat rising from her body.

  ‘You’re ready for me then, good and hot. I like a nice warm cunt.’ A band of acute discomfort, almost pain, tightened across his large stomach and caused him to pause, but it passed, and having managed to get her jeans to her knees his hands went greedily to the waistband of her underclothes.

  ‘Not a real blonde then? Nice bush, what’s it hiding?’ Even as the scrap of damp material slid over her thighs he let his thumbs rake through her pubic hair, tracing the deepening groove within them. This time he tried to ignore the severe muscular twinge in his stomach, but wasn’t entirely successful and had once more to wait for it to pass before he could jam his fingers between her legs and force them as far apart as the constricting garments around her knees would allow.

  Sherry could make no effective effort to prevent him from getting into a press-up position over her, and slowly lowering his corpulent body toward contact with hers.

  ‘You ready? Good and juicy? Looks like you’re working up a good lather.’ He’d have liked to have dangled his balls on her, dragged them over her heat radiating belly, but his big erection had caused them to contract into a compact pouch beneath him as the skin was stretched tight.

  ‘Ill have a quick one first, just to get rid of some of the load. Don’t worry, they’ll be plenty left if you fancy giving it a suck afterwards…’