by Adam Hall
‘On my authority,’ I told him.’ the president of Russia is being informed of the situation and I can guarantee his approval of any action we take. Meanwhile I assume total responsibility.’
He turned away even before I’d finished, shouting orders to his lieutenant and two sergeants and bringing a rifle platoon to the entrance of the building.
‘All right, we’re taking prisoners. Block all exits when you get inside and hold your fire unless I order you to shoot.’
He led them in at the double and by the time I got there he’d drawn up his troops in straight extended order to avoid cross — fire. The generals and their aides were already on their feet, some of the chairs overturned on the parquet behind them.
Boots clattered to silence in the echoing rotunda.
Rusakov took three steps forward, came to attention and saluted.
‘Gentlemen, I have orders for your arrest. Please surrender your arms.’
Marshal Trushin also took a few steps and the two Russian generals followed, flanking him.
‘There is a mistake, Captain.’ Trushin was a bull of a man, six feet six in his black polished boots, battle ribbons ablaze on his uniform. ‘I shall hold you responsible for this intrusion, and will inform your commanding officer that —’
Rusakov swung his head a degree, ‘take aim!’
The phalanx of assault rifles swung up and steadied.
‘Captain, you are exceeding —’
‘Sergeant Bakatin and two men forward — take their weapons!’
Trushin knocked the first man’s hand away but the sergeant brought the muzzle of his rifle to rest against the marshal’s stomach while the soldier snapped open the polished holster and drew the revolver. The Hero of the Soviet Union’s heavy face was white as the surrender began — most of them were in a state of shock as Rusakov’s men worked their way among the prisoners, taking their weapons.
Vadim Rusakov stood watching, a hand on the gun at his belt.
I was slipping focus again, and straightened up, hearing the echoes in the great dome of the rotunda… Our troops and our tanks will act demonstrably as the allies and the saviours of the people … thus ensuring their loyal support as we gather the reins of power…
Another gun came out of its holster.
‘Have your weapons ready, gentlemen! Smarten up!’
And another.
The opening up of new channels for international trade and the physical presence of the forces of the Federation in areas at present under the control of the West will be on a scale of unprecedented global significance.
Another gun was surrendered, and then one of the Chinese, a general, pulled his revolver and raised it to his temple and the shot blew his head sideways and he fell slowly, the others too shocked to catch him before he crashed across a chair, breaking one of its legs as he went down.
‘Leave him there,’ Rusakov ordered. ‘Secure his gun.’
His men moved among the prisoners as blood crept from block to block across the parquet floor and the smell of cordite sharpened the air.
Thus ensuring the unification of purpose essential to the creation of a federal world power of’ greater strength, of greater resolve, and of greater military capacity than has ever been seen before…
The last weapon was held butt — forward in surrender by a Russian colonel, and as the prisoners were escorted outside to the vehicles I picked up the walkie and signalled Ferris through the support base, told him we were finished here.
The End