by Adam Hall
'All right,' I said and shut down and walked as far as the archway, the thing in my hand, took a look, saw that no one had moved, they were policing themselves, had to, if anyone thought of trying to get out of this place before it went up they'd shove him back in his chair.
I turned and went into the office and picked up the phone again and dialled.
'Yes?' Ferris.
'Executive.'
'I'm sorry,' Ferris said.' they were getting a bit too close, so I thought we'd better move. I told the support base as soon as I could. They said you're very active.'
I gave him the picture.
Ferris is not easy to shake, but it was a couple of beats before he answered. 'I'll report to London.' Then, 'What's your condition?'
He'd caught my breathing rhythm. 'Lingering concussion, broken rib.'
'Frome is still in support?'
'He's standing off but I don't need him. Look, they'll know what to do in London but from this end I'd say they should get this to the Russian president on the hot line and suggest he puts these people under the lamp without wasting any time, because they've set up this rebellion thing nationwide and it could be hard to stop.'
'Noted.' then I think he said something else, but sounds were fading and the floor was coming up, so I got a grip on the desk and steadied things and put the detonator down on the flat solid surface, took my hand off it, we didn't want, did we, didn't want the whole thing to go ker-boom by accident, wouldn't even be good for a giggle, sounds coming in again, that poor bastard Talyzin moaning out there, something Ferris was saying.
'What?' I asked him.
'London will be pleased.'
'Oh. Those buggers.'
'Greetings, incidentally, from Tanya Rusakova.'
Her image came in clearly, surprising me, the green eyes shimmering, no longer wary of me.
'She's safe,' I asked Ferris, 'and everything?'
'Of course. Anxious to see you.'
'Well, then,' I said, for the want of anything better. 'Listen, those Rusakovs — get them out from under, will you? Tell London to talk to Moscow right away, do it at high level. Give or take a bit of circumlocution, they've been instrumental in putting down this coup by wiping out Velichko. Tell London they're my friends, and I've earned this much, all right?'
Promptly and soberly: 'I'll treat it as fully urgent.'
Couldn't say more than that: fully urgent means everyone stops what they're doing and listens, right up to the Prime Minister.
I think I'd been silent for a bit, because he asked me,' Are you all right?'
'What? Yes. Need to rest up a little.'
'As soon as I can get the heat off you locally through London and Moscow we can find somewhere better for you.'
'Don't worry,' I said, 'I'm going to place myself under Captain Rusakov's protection until then.'
'All right. I can reach you at the barracks?'
'Yes, through him. But get the heat off him too, soon as you can.'
'Understood,' Ferris said, and we shut down.
They came soon after that, Rusakov's troops, their lights flooding across the snows, the night full of noise as the tanks rumbled through the trees of the park.
I thought I'd better reassure Frome, got him on the walkie: 'Don't worry, these are ours.'
'Jesus, we got an army now?'
Rusakov dropped off the leading armoured vehicle before it had stopped, his gun out of its holster.
'Who is the officer in charge?'
No one answered. No one moved. The men watched Rusakov.
'Lay down your arms and stand-to!'
They began looking at one another, and then a sergeant brought his rifle up and Rusakov saw it and used a head shot, dropping him, watching for other movement as one of the tanks rolled its turret and swung the machine gun up a degree, firing a burst as a group of men brought their assault rifles into the aim at Rusakov.
'Lay down your arms!'
Weapons began dropping as the smoke cleared, and the men moved towards the tanks with their hands raised. Hydraulics hissed as the turret in the nearest tank rolled again, the gunner watching for targets.
'All right, stretcher bearers!' then Rusakov saw me and came over.
'Where is the bomb?'
I told him, and he waved a vehicle in, black-painted with the yellow insignia of a bomb disposal unit on the side.
I opened up the remote-control detonator and pulled out the batteries and threw them a long way into the snow.
'Vadim,' I called to him, 'we need to get the generals out of there first, under your arrest.'
He swung back to look at me.
'On whose authority?'
It was a reflex question out of the military code book, that was all — I could have told him on the Pope's authority, or Tootsie's — those generals in there had been the confederates of Velichko. Rusakov also knew that I'd been able to 'request' his sister's release from Militia Headquarters and he knew I'd been able to seize control of the generals here together with their entire armed guard, so he wasn't going to quibble.
'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
Notes
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-a06977-e16c-8c43-968e-0dc9-375f-7dbeaa
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 23.09.2007
Created using: Fiction Book Designer, Fiction Book Investigator, FB Writer v2.2, FB Editor v2.2 software
Document authors :
Paco
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