Ambassador Spears spoke up. "Gunny Bass, as soon as the attack has succeeded, I'll issue a de facto recognition of the interim government to be headed by General Lambsblood. If there is any serious armed resistance that the general's forces can't handle, I'll call up the Marne. And Charlie, if your attack bogs down, I'm going to dispatch the landing party and put the Marne's batteries on call to support you. That's against all the rules the Diplomatic Corps lives by, but I'm going to do it anyway." What he did not say, and what Bass knew as well, was that if the Marne opened fire on Wayvelsberg Castle, it could not be a "surgical" strike, so nobody's survival would be guaranteed.
And as to that stormleader, Mugabe, Bass had already made up his mind that anyone who got in his way would die, regardless. But Bass nodded his agreement with the plan. He understood its weaknesses: Lambsblood had no air support and the Special Group did. What if the SG were successful in getting Avenging Angels, or even armed Hoppers, into the air? Even one aircraft could be a significant threat. And any military operation inside a populated area like Haven could bog down instantly if the citizens got in the way. But in the time they had left, the plan was as good as it could be.
"When will your sister join us, and how do we get to Wayvelsberg?" Raipur asked Devi.
"I'll call her when we leave here. She'll meet us at the depot. You can use one of the recon vehicles. We'll load you up with enough weapons and explosives to blow the place to Hell."
"One more thing," General Lambsblood said. He reached into a drawer and took out a pair of shoulder straps, each with three silver pips on it, the insignia of a captain in the Army of the Lord. "Sergeant Raipur, Captain Dieter and the senior lieutenant in your company have been arrested. You know what that means. I'm giving you a field promotion to Captain. I'll follow that up with the proper written orders as soon as tonight's operation is over, but as of now, you are Captain Raipur."
After the obligatory congratulations to newly minted Captain Raipur, the discussion over the plan went on for a few more minutes and then General Lambsblood stood. "Lady," he bowed toward Colleen, "gentlemen, it's nearly fourteen hours now, time to get ready. Eight more hours and the tyranny that has gripped this world for so long will be ended." He stepped out from behind his desk and shook each person's hand warmly. "We are on the verge of a historic moment," he said. "Generations yet unborn will look back on this day as the turning point in the history of this world. Friends, comrades, go now to your stations, and may our Lord and Savior be with you in the coming hours." There were tears in his eyes as he spoke these words. Silently, each person in the room saluted him before turning and leaving.
He stood alone at last. He'd been a foolish martinet all his career, he knew that now. But at last he was doing something to make up for that.
But God did not smile on General Lambsblood. Two hours later the Special Group arrested him.
The dinner things were still on the table where they'd left them. De Tomas was too preoccupied to bother calling a mess boy to have them taken away. Besides, he didn't want the mood interrupted. Now, a brandy snifter in one hand and an Anniversario in the other, he sat facing Comfort across a small coffee table. Comfort gingerly sampled her brandy. It was good! She'd finished about half the snifter already. The alcohol had brought a pleasant flush to her cheeks. "You have never looked more beautiful," de Tomas said, and he meant it.
Comfort stuttered, "I—I can't help thinking about all those people back at Castle Hurse—"
De Tomas inhaled and blew out a thick cloud of blue-white cigar smoke. He waved the Anniversario casually in the air. "Give me their names and I shall grant them a pardon. I am a merciful man, especially when my mercy pleases my consort-to-be."
"Thank you, sir! Their names are, um..." She frowned. "Ah, yes. Why there's old, er..." She wrinkled her brow. It must be the brandy, she realized. She wasn't accustomed to alcohol and it was fuzzing her mind. She laughed and immediately clapped a hand to her mouth. "Ex-Excuse me!" she giggled.
"Forget them for now, my dear. We'll arrange their release in the morning. Tonight, let us put our cares aside and relax." He looked carefully at Comfort as she wrinkled her brow, trying to get the names of her friends out. Good. The chlorpromazine-based tranquilizer—ancient and crude, but still an effective drug—was working. He'd take the bitch now, and when he was done, she wouldn't be of use to anyone else and she'd have to remain here, with him. He undressed her with his eyes and his passion rose. "Drink up," he urged.
"Whooo!" Comfort swallowed the remainder of the brandy. "Oh my." She gasped as it warmed its way into her stomach, where its tendrils crept pleasantly into every fiber of her body. She lolled in her comfortable armchair and stretched her legs out under the table. She wondered why she'd taken that fruit knife at dinner and put it into a pocket. Aw, who gave a damn? The room began to swim pleasantly. She sighed. She smiled. She could taste the brandy on her breath.
She did not protest when de Tomas picked her up and carried her to a couch in one corner of the room. She thought of the shed behind her father's house, and could smell the tangy odor of old wood, seed for the garden and feed for the livestock in burlap sacks, the oil on her father's tools, the sweat of the man she loved. The couch was big enough for two. Comfort grinned and rested her head on de Tomas's shoulder as he stretched her out gently. Then he carefully began removing her robe. "Charles," she sighed, and closed her eyes.
"Believe what you will," de Tomas snorted, fumbling with the fasteners, "but it's Dominic who's mounting the assault on your ramparts, my dear, and your defenses are down."
"My dear general," Heeps gurgled, "my fearless overstormer is away somewhere, obviously out arresting people all over town just now, so I have the privilege of conducting our little interview all on my own, heh heh. I would've seen you some time ago, but we are arresting a lot of people today and it took a while for them to get around to you. I haven't even had time to finish my talks with your other men. That lieutenant of yours, why, he squealed like a baby before I was done with him, but I really don't think he knew very much. I am so pleased we can work together now, you and I. We shall achieve an understanding this evening, have an intimate chat, tell each other our most private secrets, bear our souls. Ready? Here I come, ready or not!"
Lambsblood knew he was referring to Dieter and Ben Loman, but they knew nothing of his own plans. He gazed in terror at Heeps. The electrodes attached to his body with clamps had drawn blood, they were so tight, but that did not bother him as much as that he knew what was about to come. Everyone knew about the torture chambers of Wayvelsberg Castle. He would talk, he knew he would, and the whole operation would be compromised! Oh, God, he thought desperately, why didn't I let my staff know? They would have warned me and I could have died like a man! But he hadn't let his staff in on his plans, and they did not resist the Special Group men when they came for him, and he'd been taken totally by surprise.
Lambsblood needed time. "I'll tell you everything," he pleaded, "every detail, just unhook me."
"Is that so, General? Well, let's see—"
"Aiiieee!" Lambsblood screamed as the current ripped through him.
"That was forty M.A.'s." Heeps giggled. "Just a sample of what is to come, my dear, dear boy. You were saying?" Lambsblood screamed again as Heeps sent another jolt through him and then a third.
Lambsblood gasped and panted. He fought in vain against the straps holding him into the chair. "I'll—I'll talk, just, Dios! Stop it! Please stop it!" He was weeping now, and looked totally unmanned. Through his tears he saw Heeps smile and caress the switches, but he did not throw any of them. If only I could keep him occupied! But until midnight? Oh, God! Maybe—just maybe—Devi would realize what had happened and launch the attack prematurely. "I'll tell you everything." Lambsblood wept, he sobbed, he begged. And he talked for an hour, making up things as he went along, trying desperately to remember the details of the false information that poured out of him. He knew Heeps would go over and over the story with hi
m, and he prayed that would take hours and that he could remember enough of what he was saying to be consistent. Heeps just sat there impassively, nodding every now and then but saying nothing.
"That is enough, General," Heeps barked at last. "I-do-not-believe-a-word-of-what-you-have-just-told-me!" he shouted. He punctuated each word with the toggle of a switch that sent sixty M.A.'s of electrical current into General Lambsblood's body. The general convulsed violently, in time to the jolts, jerking like a marionette under the control of a spastic puppeteer. He vomited and his bowels let loose and he screamed until he lost consciousness.
Lambsblood sat slumped in his chair, unconscious. The room reeked of his waste. Heeps, a wild grin on his face, eyes staring, panted harshly in the still, fetid air of the interrogation chamber. Perspiration rolled off his cheeks. He giggled, hunched over, his own body convulsing with laughter. "Ah, my dear boy," he gasped at last, "let us take a break—this ordeal has been very tiring for me too! And then, well, then, my dear, we'll just have to start all over again!" He chortled and clapped his hands together happily.
They were at the depot going over the attack plan one more time when word came to them that General Lambsblood had been arrested. The shock of the news went through the small group of officers standing around the map board as if they'd suddenly been called to attention. Major Devi's face went white. The battalion commander, a laser pointer in one hand, looked at Devi, "What in the name of the Great Buddha do we do now?"
"We attack, right now," Bass said before anyone else could respond. He shouldered his way through the officers and stood next to the battalion commander. "How long will the general hold out before he spills his guts?" he asked.
"Not very long," someone said.
"Then, gentlemen, we attack now!" Bass thumped the map board with a fist.
"It's still daylight! The streets will be filled with farmer's carts heading back out of the city, and tradesmen and merchants going home. The Lifeguards will all be up and alert!" one of the platoon commanders shouted. The news had put them on the verge of panic.
"They'll see us coming if they don't already know our plans," another officer said.
"No!" Bass said loudly enough to cut over the protests. "Here's how we'll do it." He took the pointer out of the commander's limp hand and began to trace routes on the map. "You head out of the city, right now, soon as you can mount up. You get to this point here"—he indicated a highway on the outskirts of Haven—"and then you go hell for leather around this way, and attack Wayvelsberg from this direction instead of straight through the city."
"It'll take an hour to get there that way," Devi protested.
Bass shrugged. "Move slowly to the beltway, so people will think you're just going back out to join the rest of the army, and then go like hell when you get to the highway. Shoot anyone who tries to stop you. When you get to your jump-off point, here, debouch into two columns, one straight to Wayvelsberg and the other to the barracks and the airfield. It'll be cross-country, but your Gabriels and your personnel carriers were made for cross-country maneuvers. Yeah, you'll be in plain sight, but they won't expect an attack from that direction. Remember, they think your army is demoralized and inefficient and understrength and underequipped and all that. And everyone thinks you're buffoons."
"Gunny Bass is right," Major Devi said. "Let's do it!"
"What are our choices anyway?" the battalion commander said. "We're all dead men if we stay here. At least this way we'll go down fighting. And when word gets out to the field army, maybe someone else will take up after us—"
"No! No! And no again!" Bass roared, "No fucking maybes! None of that kind of thinking, Colonel! You will not die, you will succeed, you will kill them, and you will rescue your general! You start thinking you're going to be defeated and you sure as hell will be! Goddamnit, men, you're soldiers, not a bunch of Special Group wimps! You've got right and honor and whatever gods you want on your side, damnit, now go out there and get some!"
They all stood silently, staring at Bass, who had just become General Lambsblood's de facto replacement.
"All right, men," the battalion commander said, breaking the silence, "you heard the man. Let's move!" The officers sent up a cheer and everyone ran for the doors.
At the agreed-upon time and place, Gunnery Sergeant Bass, Major Devi, along with Zechariah Brattle and the people who accompanied them from New Salem, boarded a military vehicle and picked up Uma Devi.
"Gunny Bass," Devi shouted, "get into position. Stay on the radio. When I give you the word, go in!" He stepped over and hugged his sister. "Oh, Bass, by the way, how in the world did you come up with that plan so quickly, and using a map you'd never seen before?"
Bass shrugged and grinned. "Major, I'm just real good at this military shit."
Chapter 29
"Well, children," Bass said as he started the engine, "are you ready? Uma?"
"Yes, Charles," Uma Devi answered from the back of the vehicle, where she was sitting next to Colleen and Chet. She was a statuesque, athletic woman, very attractive, Bass thought as he guided the vehicle into the empty side street. He'd demonstrated to her how to load and fire the fléchette rifle that she gripped tightly by its forward hand guard. She'd been a quick study.
"Uma, why did you volunteer to come along on this mission?" Colleen asked.
"Because Jaimie is at Wayvelsberg Castle."
"Who's Jaimie?"
"My fiancé," Uma replied. "And my brother will be there too, we hope. We do things together in my family," she said with nervous smile.
Bass shook his head. "Uma, they threw the mold away when they made you." He clapped Raipur on the shoulder. He was riding shotgun. "Let's go over the plan one more time."
"Turn right at the next cross street," Uma directed.
Bass nodded. "Uma," he continued, "guides us to within half a klick of the castle, where we ditch this car in the woods. We approach on foot to the dirt road and go to ground there until we get word that the battalion force is in position. I set the first charge. When we're inside, Raipur, Zechariah, and I go up the stairs to the top and set the second charge. Chet, Colleen, and Uma—you cover our backs while we're going up. In that narrow stairwell any attacker from outside will never get in if you concentrate your fire."
"Straight ahead four blocks, then right at the next light," Uma said.
"Time?" Bass asked.
"1750."
"Now, if the attack doesn't materialize but I can still get into Wayvelsberg Castle, I'm going in by myself," Bass told them. "The rest of you are excused."
"Not me," Zechariah answered.
"Nor me," Raipur said.
The others, even Uma, also insisted on volunteering.
"Zechariah, yes; Raipur, okay; but Colleen, Chet, Uma, no. You don't have a personal stake in any of this like Zechariah and I do, and Raipur's a professional soldier. So why risk your lives? If there's no attack, you ditch your weapons and get out of here. I mean it. No arguments. I'm going to get Comfort back or die trying. In any event, with or without the armored column, I'm going to kill some of those bastards."
"Straight ahead until the road bends to the right, maybe two kilometers," Uma said. "You can see the roof of Wayvelsberg now, over the tops of the trees, off to the right." The traffic was light, with no pedestrians and only a few of the ubiquitous horse-drawn vehicles driven by civilians going about their normal late afternoon business. "Pull over here," Uma said at last. Bass guided the car off the road and drove it deep into the bushes, beneath low-hanging tree limbs.
"Now we get out and walk," Uma said. "The dirt road to the rear of the castle is about a hundred meters down on our right."
They reached their final point and Bass parked. "We don't know how long it'll take the column to get into position, but let's move out smartly, people," Bass told them. He passed out extra magazines for the weapons and slung the shaped charges over one shoulder. He had four of them, each weighing half a kilo. It never hurt to have a backup.
"What if someone sees us?" Uma asked, slinging her rifle.
"If they don't stop, fine. By the time they can give an alarm, we'll be inside. Otherwise, kill them. I don't care who they are, shoot them. But let's hope nobody comes along until we're down that dirt road."
They trotted along in the slowly lengthening shadows, a little trail of dust rising in the still air behind them.
1801.
De Tomas gazed down upon Comfort's supine form. Her robe lay open down the front, exposing her to his gaze. Her eyes were closed. "We can't have this," he said aloud. He shook her by the shoulder. "Comfort! Awake, arise, my love!" She murmured something unintelligible but her eyes stayed closed. "Wake up, damn you to hell!" He shook her harder and swore. The dose had been too large! Now, instead of being just compliant, she lay there like a pillow!
"Do you need help, there, my leader?"
De Tomas whirled. "Gorman! What are you doing here? I didn't call for you. Get out!"
Gorman came nearer. "I have important news, my leader." He craned his neck, and seeing Comfort on the couch, his eyebrows arched and his lips twisted into a knowing smile. "Well, well, that little beautician wasn't good enough for you, eh?"
"Get out, you buffoon!
"You should hear what I have to say," Gorman persisted.
His smile infuriated de Tomas. "I'll tell you one more time, you stupid, useless dog, get out of here!" He moved toward Gorman, fists clenched.
Gorman raised his hands. "Calm, my leader, be calm! The Army of the Lord is on the move. There is a column of Gabriels on their way here. I thought you should know."
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