First Salvo (19 page)

Keradin had an extraordinary sexual imagination, especially when describing his own prowess. But tonight, whatever he suggested, Verra would not go along. Soon Keradin was whining, wheedling, but she would still not cooperate.

Obviously, Cobb realized, Verra was distracting him so he wouldn’t be watching the curtains. Stealthily, not moving the cloth more than a centimeter at a time, he pulled back the curtain until one eye peered into the room. Indeed, Verra had insured that Keradin was indisposed. He was buck naked. In his hand was a camera that looked very much like one of those instant developers which were so hard to obtain in the Soviet Union. It was easy to understand what he had in mind and obvious why Verra was protesting.

It was also obvious why she had become the general’s favorite. Her hair was swept up. She was perfectly made up and she wore expensive, ornate jewelry. But that was all. Cobb was sure he had never seen a more gorgeous woman.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed. The general was a few feet away from her with his camera, trying to convince her to pose. She would have nothing to do with him. While he pleaded, she looked down at the floor or in the direction of the curtain as if she was hoping Cobb would burst through in that instant and come to her rescue.

But Cobb waited. He had to be sure that Keradin was totally occupied with his own pleading rather than with where her eyes were roaming. Once Cobb was satisfied, he moved the curtain ever so slightly when she looked in his direction, just enough so that she would know it wasn’t the evening breeze. She saw the motion, he was sure, but gave no indication of it. She looked down at the floor again, then back in his direction. Again, Cobb moved the curtain, this time keeping his eye there. She saw it, nodded slightly, and looked back at the floor.

What the hell do I do now?
Cobb wondered. The argument renewed. It was finally settled when Keradin agreed that he would pose for her first and then she would reciprocate.
A clever girl!
Cobb thought.

She offered a number of suggestions for poses, each of which met with an argument from the General. But when it was made clear that her poses would be definitely determined by what he agreed to, the man had no choice. First the general placed a bedside table on top of the mattress. Then he climbed precariously on top of it, his head scant inches from the ceiling. Verra tossed him his hat, which he put on after much discussion. Cobb was about to enter at this point when he thought better of it. The man was still in a position where he could move fast.

The next pose was more to Cobb’s liking, with Keradin lying on his back on the table.
This would be it
, Cobb thought. When the general appeared the most uncomfortable, Cobb moved quickly into the room, sliding the door shut behind him with one hand, the other holding the gun steadily on the prone general.

Keradin remained motionless, his eyes moving from the girl to Cobb and back again.

“There were a couple of times I wondered,” she said, still standing in the same spot with her camera. “It seemed you were never going to show up.”

“I appreciate your professionalism,” Cobb answered. “Nice pose.”

“Can I cut his balls off now?” she hissed.

Keradin’s eyes settled on Cobb. Still no expression. He was a tough man.

“No, not now, not unless we have to. I would like him in one piece. But if there’s the slightest doubt, then, yes, you may.” He made sure the general absorbed that.

“He’s dangerous, you know,” she said.

“He doesn’t appear to be now.” Cobb grinned. The general said nothing, still motionless. It seemed best to keep him in that position for the time being. Cobb turned to Verra. “Put on your clothes.”

As she dressed, Keradin’s eyes never left Cobb, watching his every move, waiting perhaps, Cobb thought, for me to do something dumb, perhaps leer at the girl. One should always enjoy a beautiful woman’s nudity—but the alternative here wasn’t nearly as pleasurable.
He must realize that I am not the little old wine maker he thought he’d found, and certainly not an enemy from Moscow
. They wouldn’t do it this way.

Once dressed, Verra went through the general’s clothes without a word from Cobb. Neatly hung over the chair was the man’s holster, belt, and gun. “What do you want to do with this?”

“Strap it around my waist, gun over the left hip, butt forward. You can have this one when we’re ready.”

In the general’s dresser she found a slender but deadly looking knife in an ornate sheath. Removing it, she stroked the blade thoughtfully, looking Keradin up and down as she did so.

“Are you planning to kill me?” Keradin inquired. He spoke in a normal voice, though his eyes were now on the knife.

“Not unless it’s absolutely necessary,” Cobb answered. “As far as she’s concerned,” he inclined his head toward Verra, “I’m going to try to convince her not to either. I can’t swear that I can keep her from using the knife,” he added.

From the look in Keradin’s eyes, he seemed to share Cobb’s concern. “May I get up and get dressed?”

“You may get up, very carefully. Roll off that table, slowly, onto the bed. Once you’re there, I’ll tell you when you can stand up.”

The general did just as he was instructed, bouncing slightly as he landed on the mattress, rolling over, then watching Cobb, silently.

“Good. Now slide toward me until your feet are on the floor.” It was an odd sight, the naked man moving as though he were fully clothed, seemingly unconcerned with his own nakedness. As his feet touched the floor, his hand snaked out, grabbing a leg of the table still on the bed. In one fluid motion, he was on his feet, heaving it in Cobb’s direction. But Cobb was a split second ahead of him, and ducked. The table passed a fraction of an inch from his head, crashing against the wall. As Keradin lunged toward him, Cobb stepped slightly to one side, slashing the gun barrel across the man’s cheek. Keradin looked up from the floor at Cobb with an astonished look on his face. He felt the welt on his cheek and stared at the blood that covered his hand when he pulled it away.

“Someone will come—all that noise,” Verra said, the first sign of fear in her eyes.

Cobb looked down at the general. Behind the pain in his eyes was a triumphant expression, as if Keradin knew he had won, whether or not Cobb had knocked him to the floor.

“The knife,” said Cobb. “Use it if you have to.”

Before Keradin fully understood what was implied, Verra was on her knees beside him, the blade of the knife nestled in his crotch. Honest fear shone in Keradin’s eyes.

Cobb waited. The response was quick. There was pounding at the door. Voices outside called Keradin’s name.

Cobb dropped to his knees, whispering close to the man’s face, “Answer them. Laugh, tell them it’s all right.” Keradin looked stubbornly at him. Cobb turned slightly to Verra, then back to the General.

“Everything is all right,” Keradin answered. “Nothing to worry about.”

“What happened?” a voice responded, not satisfied.

“It is very personal, tell them,” Cobb whispered. “You can explain everything in the morning. You’re having a wonderful time and it will make a funny story.” Keradin hesitated again. Cobb got to his feet. “If he doesn’t do what he’s told by the time I count to three,” he said to Verra, “he’s all yours.”

Keradin looked down at the knife. Verra moved it slightly, enough for Keradin to get the message that she would enjoy carrying it through. “I will have to tell you all about it in the morning,” Keradin shouted. “You’ll all be amused. But, please, I am occupied now.” He finished with a suggestive laugh.

Outside the closed door, male laughter answered. Voices called a pleasant good night to the general as they drifted down the hallway. Keradin looked down at the knife. Verra hadn’t moved it. He looked up at Cobb.

“A deal’s a deal.” Cobb grinned at her appreciatively. “I can’t let you scare him to death. I still have a job to do.” She removed the knife, slipping it back in its sheath and dropping it inside her blouse. Cobb had the general’s gun holstered around his waist. He handed Verra the Makarov. “Remember, if there’s any problem, anything that he could have saved us from, the first shot is for him.” He looked at Keradin. “You understand?”

The general nodded. “Where are you taking me?”

“It doesn’t matter. Put on your shoes and socks.”

The general indicated the rest of his clothing hanging over the chair.

Cobb shook his head. “You’re traveling incognito tonight. All I’m worried about is your feet.” He indicated to the girl. “Make a little roll for him—shorts, shirt, pants— just in case there’s a delay. I wouldn’t want to lose him to pneumonia. He’ll carry his clothes himself and like it.” And to Keradin: “Remember, the first bullet will be for you. But if I have time, even just a few seconds, I will let her use her knife. Any questions?”

Keradin shook his head. Cobb explained to both of them how they would get out of the dacha and away from the area. There was no reason to explain yet where they would go afterward.

Even the most jaded observer would have found humor in the departure of a well-dressed woman, followed by a naked man, followed by a peasant. After lowering themselves from the balcony to the barrel to the ground, they walked to the main gate. Verra’s knife was once again pressed against the general to assure his silence.

The gate was the easiest method of escape. Electrically controlled from the inside by the guard, it could not be opened from the outside, and apparently security had not considered the possibility of someone escaping from the inside of General Keradin’s compound. As a result, there was only one guard there, whom Cobb had watched for a while from his position inside the crusher. He was by himself and likely bored. Cobb disposed of him quickly. Having seen earlier where the controls were, he opened the gate just the slightest bit to allow them to slip through. Taking the guard’s body with him, he dumped it in the bushes on the opposite side of the road. He knew that sooner or later the man would be missed, the gate found ajar, and then Keradin’s absence would be noted. However, it seemed unlikely to him that they would be discovered missing in such a short time, and assuming luck was with them and Lassiter appeared as planned, things should turn out well.

The naked general preceded the other two, following directions as Cobb dictated them, taking the same path Cobb used when he came into the area. The road between Yalta and Alushta was mainly dirt, and it carried more horse- or ox-drawn carts than motorized vehicles. At night, it was deserted. Only peasants ever used it, and nowhere but home existed for them after dark. Twice the general indicated how chilled he was becoming, but each time Cobb decided that he would be more obedient if he was cold.

They left the road close to the spot where Cobb had climbed up from the sea the night before. “Give him his underwear for the time being.”

“Why?”

“The undergrowth—he’ll hurt himself.”

“So?”

“He’ll slow us down. We don’t have time.”

“For what?” she persisted.

“We are not staying in the Crimea, believe me.”

He could sense her happiness even in the dark. “That’s all I wanted to know. I thought—oh, forget it,” she said, handing Keradin his underwear, then giggling at the ludicrous sight of his putting it on.

Cobb led them down through the underbrush, halting at a point about fifty yards above the water’s edge. Here he had a view of the shore to either side, yet they could not be detected by anyone who chanced to wander nearby.

For the first time, Keradin spoke. “May I ask where you are taking me, and why you are doing so?” Since the moment Cobb had appeared quite suddenly in his bedroom, the general had heard only Russian spoken. He knew nothing other than that Cobb, supposedly a Georgian, seemed to know a great deal about wine. Though the girl was Polish, it was obvious that this man was not. They left no doubt about their willingness to kill him, if necessary. Even worse, from Keradin’s point of view, was the man’s willingness to set the girl loose with her knife. If he were to die, he far preferred a bullet.

“It’s not important where you’re going,” Cobb told him. “That you’ll see for yourself.”

“Are you holding me for ransom?”

“You’ll see. But I don’t think your friends want you back anyway. They’d never know how much you might have spilled to us. Better alive with us than dead with them.”

The underbrush was covered with a light dew. The dampness in the air added to the chill. “May I put on some clothes?” Keradin persisted.

“No. I want to make it as easy as possible for her to operate on you if I decide it’s necessary. Did I tell you how good she is with that knife before we left?” Keradin said nothing more, but his teeth chattered. Cobb had no idea whether it was the cold or the prospect of Verra’s knife.

They waited silently. Verra’s eyes never left the general. Keradin looked up every few moments but eventually gave up when he realized she was as alert as ever. The minutes passed with an agonizing slowness for each of them. The girl was anxious, the general apprehensive, Cobb just a slight bit concerned that Lassiter might have run into trouble.

But a half hour before midnight, he saw the light come on briefly out at sea then search the water as if a fisherman were putting something over the side. Before it was extinguished, it blinked in their direction three times. To an observer on the beach, it would have appeared casual. Keradin, who had been following Cobb’s eyes, saw it and murmured to himself. He knew he was going to sea.

They relaxed for a few more moments before Cobb said, “All right. Down to the waterline. We have an appointment.” Soon a small black boat appeared out of the darkness. Its electric motor made no noise and neither Keradin nor the girl knew what to expect until it loomed before them.

A man in the bow jumped gracefully out to hold the boat for them. It was then that Keradin heard Cobb speak another language for the first time.

“English,” the general growled.

“No,” Cobb responded quietly. “American, courtesy of the U.S. Navy,” he added, pointing at the small craft. “Get in.”