I didn’t comment and tried to be understanding. These were people whose life-view focused on not getting into serious conflicts. By the flow of events or Millen’s devious machinations, they were being pulled along into territory so unfamiliar, I wanted to believe they were doing well. Okay, maybe I was hoping that was the case.
I returned to the map. “Assuming Cherkoff is stopped on one or both blockades, we need to evacuate or get into shelter everyone living in the . . . ,” I stopped to consult the map. “So, most people live in residential areas south and north of the business district, with only a few houses to the east along Beka Street. The river forms Justice’s western boundary. Let’s evacuate everyone from Bond Street north through the business district and people east of the bridge on Beka.”
Bossev blanched. He was already sweating, but I’d have sworn his pores opened wider.
“That’s almost all of Justice’s businesses and seven or eight hundred people! Where would they go? How do we get to all of them? My God! Is there going to be enough time?”
“There won’t be if we diddle about the problems, instead of just doing it!” I stated emphatically. “Look at the map, Mayor. The area I’ve just described is going to be a combat zone. We want it cleared of noncombatants for several reasons. Naturally, we don’t want innocents hurt, but by moving them out of the zone, it helps us two ways. We don’t have to worry about armed citizens hesitating and thereby getting themselves or those innocents killed. It also prevents Cherkoff from using them as shields or bargaining tokens. I know Cherkoff is a murderous bastard, but there are degrees of that. Might he take prisoners and threaten to kill them, unless we surrender?”
Bossev went from pale to green. I briefly wondered whether I should look for a waste container for him to vomit into. He surprised me. After a hard shake, color returned to his face.
“You’re right, and that needs to start immediately. Let’s pause here for a few minutes while I get my wife and a few others to start organizing the evacuation and where the people will go.
Bossev walked away, worked his comm, and exited the room.
“Good job,” said Millen. “You’ve given him something to focus on—helping the citizens falls within his model of the world.”
Whatever works, I thought, not wanting to disillusion Millen about my ability to manipulate people. However, I took the opportunity to press Millen about Orneel.
“Seems odd that Orneel Ahbutan runs off to Cherkoff just when we need to stir up the locals enough to find their spines.”
Millen never looked up from the map. “The people of Justice have been inert so long, they need a strong push. Part of our job is to turn that around—get them moving with enough momentum that it’ll be hard to stop. Right now, many of the leading citizens find themselves in a vehicle without brakes and careening down a slope. If they bail out of the vehicle, the consequences are dramatic. Their only salvation is to stay in the vehicle until it reaches flat ground. What’s also needed is for more of the citizens to climb on that vehicle.
“Getting back to the plan, Bossev is starting the evacuation process and blocking Cherkoff’s vehicles from entering the main part of Justice. Those are merely the preliminaries. So, what do you propose next?”
“Even if we get a good number of locals willing to fight, we don’t want them engaged in stand-up firefights against Cherkoff’s men. We need to consolidate them in defendable positions where they have some advantages. This is assuming Cherkoff doesn’t have access to heavier weapons than personal arms. If he does, we’re fucked. We don’t know their objectives for sure, but it’s a safe bet it’s you and me first and then anyone associated with the trial.”
“But we can’t just sit and wait for Cherkoff,” said Millen.
“At least not initially,” I said. “If I had a couple of FSES veterans, I’d hit Cherkoff’s men at the roadblocks, then withdraw and see if they split their forces, which is usually the wrong thing to do. However, there’s a good chance Cherkoff still underestimates what he’ll face, and he’ll make exactly that blunder. He’ll think he has enough men to divide them to hunt down multiple people at the same time or come at us from multiple directions.”
I shook my head and cursed. “There’s no getting around it—we can’t make final plans. We don’t even know yet how many people will support us, so let’s start with this. We’ll begin by establishing defensible positions and then see where we are when we know how many volunteers we have.
“Well, we should have an idea how good or bad the number are in the next couple of hours,” said Millen.
I looked Millen straight in the face. “It’ll depend on the two of us to do a lot of the heavy lifting. We might position the locals in defensible positions, but we’ll have to serve as the offense, at least until the situation clarifies and/or we whittle down Cherkoff’s men.”
“Ideally, we’ll get a chance to shoot Cherkoff,” said Millen. “With him out of the picture, the rest of them will flounder about what they want or are willing to do. I suppose one or more subordinates could try to step into his place, but the confusion would work to our advantage.”
“Good luck with Cherkoff exposing himself,” I said. “He might not even come with his men. He could leave it to someone else to lead the attack, while he stays ensconced at his headquarters.”
“Maybe, but I’ll bet he comes to both maintain control and be sure the people of Justice see him doing it. He wants people to fear him first and his men second.”
Bossev’s door opened with a bang, startling both of us. I reflexively put a hand on my pistol. A man I didn’t recognize stood in the doorway.
“Where’s Bossev? I got word the shit’s going to hit us all at any time.” His eyes narrowed as he took us in. “Hey . . . are you two Millen and Cole?” He didn’t wait for an answer and entered the room. “Boril’s been filling my ear about the two of you. Name’s Sloman, David Sloman.”
“Regional Councilman Sloman?” I asked.
Before the man could answer, Abdul Farr walked in—followed by another man we didn’t recognize. Then Bossev returned, trailed by Alda Nakasomi and Omar Felzoni. In the next twenty minutes, the room neared its capacity, and for the first time I felt we were actually going to do this.
Millen and I were not suicidal or stupid enough to go straight up against thirty to forty Cherkoff men. We were here to do dangerous work but not to get killed by taking unreasonable risks. Until the last hour and without voicing it aloud even to Millen, I had hedged my bets. I’d been looking for options to beat a retreat if the situation got too dismal. I also didn’t want to get too many locals killed for no purpose.
I whispered to Millen, “This is better than my worst fears. I count twenty-two—that’s assuming all are willing to take up guns.”
Millen nodded. “And it sounds like there’ll be more as the day goes on. I think we need to get some of the people into position. You’re on, Everett. Lay out the general plan.”
Millen put his thumb and middle finger in his mouth and let loose a shrieking whistle. Fortunately, I saw him first, turned my head, and covered my ears. Others were not so lucky. It had the desired effect: talking stopped. Everyone stared at Millen with a different expression: startled, irritated, or angry.
“All right, people, there’s enough of us to lay out the basic plan for when Cherkoff comes to town. I hope none of you is deluding yourself that it won’t happen. While we don’t know when, we believe it will be either this afternoon or tomorrow morning. My associate here, Everett Cole, was a tactician with the Federated Systems Enforcement Service and has relevant experience in such situations. He’ll brief you on what we’ll be doing.” Millen turned to me. “Everett.”
I didn’t see any purpose in contradicting him. No one in the FSES would have referred to me as a tactician, although I’d admit my experiences probably did put me up several notches on anyone in our makeshift army. As for similar situations . . . .well, maybe he was closer there. I’d always hate
d operations inside towns—too many cubbyholes, too many open places surrounded by buildings where who knew what was lurking. And I dreaded unfamiliar surroundings where the local opposition knew every centimeter.
Everyone moved our way, and I put my back to a wall so I’d be facing them. Conversations had gotten loud again after Millen’s blast, so I raised both arms.
“Quiet, people, please. I’ll go over the plan, but hold questions until I finish—it won’t take long.” I waited until I had their attention.
“Since we don’t know exactly how Cherkoff will react, we’re going to deploy to give us the best capability to respond with all of you in good defensible positions. Once we know more of Cherkoff’s intentions, we’ll use our comms to decide on specific moves.”
I needed to refer to the map, but there were too many people to gather around the table. “Mayor Bossev, let’s put the map up on the wall.”
“Right, let me get some tacks or tape.”
Two minutes later, I stood next to the map and pointed out the two roadblocks, then moved on to the three planned positions for groups of armed citizens of Justice.
“Everybody joining us in this fight will be divided into three groups with one person designated the leader. There’s no time to sort out which individuals would be the best leaders, so Mr. Millen and I will simply assign someone who will be the person we communicate with. Each group will look to find or build a defensible position they can hold against Cherkoff’s men for at least a few hours. One group will be at the western edge of town, near Mayor Bossev’s and Judge Felzoni’s houses. There’s a good chance this will be one of Cherkoff’s targets. Ashraf Hayek will be in charge.”
I looked at Hayek. “Ashraf, I suggest setting up a couple hundred meters west of the Union and Cedar intersection. That should give you three hundred meters or more of clear fields of fire for about two hundred and seventy degrees from your position. Trees will be at your back. In case you have to run, I doubt Cherkoff’s men will follow since they’ll have more important priorities.
“Who will the other people be in my group?” asked Ashraf.
“When we finish here, the three leaders and I will divide up the people and make other assignments. After you leave, collect more volunteers who come forward, but keep us informed. If one of the three sites gets too many people or has too few, we’ll need to do some redistribution.
“The second group will be just east of the hospital and two blocks from the Beka Bridge. I noticed a business with stacks of lumber and blocks of various sizes nearby. There’s also a solid-looking two-story building that might provide a good position. I’d have to look closer, though, before making a recommendation whether to use that building or dig in using the building materials. After we’re through here, I’ll quickly visit both sites and have better ideas then. The leader of the second site will be Alfredo Landa.”
“No,” Landa called out, and he pulled on the arm of a man I didn’t recognize standing next to him. “This is Jason Nazar. I think he would be a better leader from this group. Jason and his brother, Jules, hate Cherkoff as much or more than anyone. They own the nearest farm to Justice—only about a kilometer from the last building. They aren’t part of the farming community in the Carizo region but have had run-ins with Cherkoff’s men. A younger brother was killed a year ago under circumstances they’re convinced implicates Cherkoff’s number-two man.”
I didn’t like this. Cool heads would matter more than a thirst for revenge, plus I didn’t know either Nazar brother. Before I could demur for another choice, Jason Nazar spoke up.
“I was five years on the Oslo police quick response team. Me and my two brothers moved here for a better situation for our families—which hasn’t worked out. This may be our only chance to set things right. You don’t know me, but I’ll follow orders and, if necessary, stand and defend our position, if it’s required.”
I glanced at Millen. He shrugged. I took the gesture to mean either “Why not?” or “It’s your decision.”
“Okay, Jason, you’re the leader of the hospital position. I’ll hold you to your word not to go off when revenge overrides reason. You’ll be responsible for your people’s lives, so take care of them.”
He acknowledged my caution with a firm nod.
“The third and final position will be at the end of Maronite Street. Since I don’t believe the Maronite group will be a primary contact point with Cherkoff’s men, I want to consider this group as backup to support the other two groups, if things go well, and as cover for withdrawal, if it all goes to shit. The person in charge will be Aleyna Hamdan.”
The leader of the farm community north of Justice had come in after I’d started talking. I assumed she’d caught the drift of what we were planning. I took a flying leap that her presence meant she was committing herself to the fight. I hoped there were other farmers willing to join or waverers whose commitment might be triggered if I gave Hamdan a leadership position.
Her startled look morphed into a grim nod in my direction. She was pretty sharp and had divined my intent almost immediately—which was okay with me, as long as she brought in more help.
“I haven’t heard what you and Millen will be doing,” said Dr. Gebran.
The hospital surgeon had come with the others, though I hadn’t thought of him as one of our combatants.
“We’ll be doing what we do better than any of you—creating chaos for Cherkoff’s plans. He probably expects to storm into town, kill the two of us and maybe a few of you to remind everyone in Justice about the price of going against him. Instead of roaring in relatively unopposed, he’ll find a large part of the town deserted, armed people holed up where it’d be a serious fight to get at them, and me and Millen lurking in the shadows and hitting them unexpectedly. It’s bound to throw Cherkoff back on his heels and start sowing uncertainty in his men. For those of you in the group positions, if Cherkoff’s men hit you, hold out until Everett and I or the other groups can get there. We might catch them between us.”
The doctor didn’t look totally convinced, but I assessed that a good portion of the people listening got some level of reassurance. I wasn’t one of them, despite my own words.
“All right then,” said Millen, “let’s have the three group leaders divvy up people here who don’t have assignments from the mayor, then get to it. Everett and I will be circulating and in touch with the leaders and Mayor Bossev by comm. Remember, time is our enemy. Cherkoff could literally show up at any minute, though we think it’ll be late this afternoon or tomorrow morning. I hope we’re right, but we all need to do everything as fast as possible, in case we’re wrong.”
It took only two minutes to divide the people into three groups. When the meeting broke up, Hamdan accosted us.
“Nicely done, Cole. I’m still not sure how I got from not wanting to be involved to being a member of the jury and now a primary contact for part of your ragtag army. On the other hand, what goddamn choice do I have? If Cherkoff didn’t already know I was on the jury, he does now with Orneel’s defection.”
“How about any other farmers standing with us?” I asked. What our “army” lacked in experience and coordination could be helped the more people we had with us. I forgot where the quote came from, maybe some Russian guy, but someone once said, “Quantity has a quality all its own.”
“Serena Daouk and my husband, Efton, are talking with the other farms. I think some will come to Justice, but I can’t guarantee how many. I also sent word to Hossam Abboud. He might come, but I can’t say about any of the other ranchers. They haven’t talked among themselves as a group about what to do with Cherkoff because we know at least one rancher, Abdel Boutros, is a Cherkoff supporter.”
Hamdan looked Millen and then me straight in the eyes.
“We’re all putting our lives on the line. Whatever happens, I and all my people know this is our one chance to be free of Cherkoff. So you two better know what you’re doing.”
CHAPTER 16
; The next four hours were organized chaos—at least, that was the optimistic spin I gave myself. I had to hand it to Bossev; once given a mission, he was a whirlwind of organization. Word spread via Ostell’s alerts over the reactivated local net and by word of mouth. Soon a trickle of people moving north turned into a steady stream. Four hours later, it was reduced back to a trickle, as a major part of Justice emptied.
Ostell’s net alert warned everyone to go north, where Bossev was organizing shelter, and to take with them only what they absolutely needed, such as medications. As expected, some people tried to pack as if moving semi-permanently. In one case, while I headed to Jason Nazar’s group in eastern Justice, I saw Jason’s brother, Jules, scream at a family loading a car with possessions. Jules and another man forced the family to start walking north, then threw everything loaded in the car onto the street. Jules drove the car away, I assumed to use in blocking the Beka Street bridge.
The rest of the day we were tense with waiting—to no relief. There was no sign of Cherkoff or any of his men. This indicated that something was up because a few of them were usually in town for one reason or another. By noon, we had a two-man picket a kilometer south of the Main Street roadblock. We were as satisfied as we could reasonably be at progress on the roadblocks and the three defensive positions. By sunset, we’d added twenty-two more armed people to the three groups. We turned away another dozen we believed were so unfamiliar with firearms or so unsuitable that they’d be more a danger to the defense than to Cherkoff. Among those we let stay, even with reservations, were several men and women we thought could stand in one spot to provide covering fire.
By nightfall, both Millen and I were satisfied Cherkoff wouldn’t respond until the next day. We’d been smart in our selections of group leaders—or dumb-ass lucky, depending on your degree of pessimism. Ashraf, Hamden, and Jason Nazar proved competent enough to keep their groups reasonably organized under the circumstances. Before putting the big earth-moving machines in the roadblock, Ashraf had used them to clear better fields of fire and throw up a series of berms, in lieu of digging in. The other two groups copied Ashraf’s idea, though they were slower than Ashraf’s group in constructing crude bunkers that would withstand small arms and provide some protection from rocket-propelled-grenades (RPGs)—if Cherkoff had them.
A Tangled Road to Justice Page 21