Ralph Peters (52 page)

"
Tonight? You wish for us to have dinner
again?
"

"
Yes. If you don't have other plans.
"

"
No, no. No, I think this is a very good idea ... Jeff.
"
She threw herself back down on the bed, kissing him again, first on his morning-dead mouth, then along the flat field of muscle between shoulder and breast.
"
You are so wonderful,
"
she said quickly.
"
I thought you do not want to see me anymore.
"

Before he could get a grip on her, before his body could insist that she delay her departure, she slipped away from him again, stepping into her red dress. Ryder did not know much about Russian classroom customs, but he was pretty sure she was going to go home and change rather than confront the system in that particular outfit.

"
Tonight,
"
she said gaily.
"
And at what hour?
"

Work crowded back into his mind. He knew there would be a tremendous amount to do. In the wake of the breakthrough with the Japanese computer system. He would be a focal point of the exploration effort. The timing was terrible.

"
Around eight?
"
he said, reaching for a compromise between duty and desire. Standing there on the verge of leaving, the woman looked as vulnerably beautiful to him is any woman had ever appeared. With her face that wanted washing for yesterday's makeup and her rebellious hair.
"
But wait for me, if I'm not there exactly at eight. Please. I might be running late. On business.
"

"
Oh, yes,
"
she half sang.
"
I will wait for you. We will have dinner with one another. And we will talk.
"

"
Yes,
"
he said.
"
We have a lot to talk about.
"

Then she was gone, in the wake of a blown kiss and the slam of an ill-mounted door. Her footsteps died away in the early gloom of the corridor.

While showering, he had been stricken by a sudden fear. He hurried, towel-wrapped, back into the bedroom. Frantically, he rifled through his wallet, then checked his other valuables.

His watch and the holstered computer were still in place. No money was missing. His credit cards lay neatly ranked in their leather nest.

He stood by the nightstand, dripping, ashamed of himself for suspecting her. Then the remembrance of her excited him so powerfully that he had a hard time tucking himself into his shorts.

He went down to breakfast with a gigantic emptiness in his belly, ready to eat every slice of brown bread on the table. And to his wonderment, the waiter laid a plate of scrambled eggs before him.

He sat across from Dicker Sienkiewicz, the granddaddy
of the staff warrants. When the question involved the order of battle of
foreign
armies, Dicker could beat most computers to the answer. And he had phenomenal connections. He seemed to have a personal line to every other veteran who had survived the series of reductions-in-force that had devastated the United States Army back in the nineteen nineties. He was also, in Ryder's view, a good man. Bald-headed and requisitely grumpy, he would nurse a beer or two in the bar with the other warrants, but then he would go back to his room, alone, to continue the day's work. Ryder felt he was a kindred spirit, despite the gap in their ages, and he trusted the old man.

When the waiters faded beyond hearing distance, Dicker leaned across the table toward Ryder.

"
Heard the news, Jeff?
"

Ryder looked at the other two warrants who shared the table, then back toward Dicker, shaking his head. He forked up another load of scrambled eggs.

Dicker leaned even closer, whispering.
"
The attack went in last night. I have it from a good source that the Seventh's kicking butt.
"
The older warrant smiled slightly, but proudly.
His
Army was back in the field and doing its duty.

"
That's
great,
''
Ryder said, reaching for another piece of bread.

Dicker nodded.
"
You know, I've got an old buddy down with the Seventh. Flies for old man Taylor himself. Flapper Krebs. I wonder what the hell he's doing right now?
"

One of the other warrants, whose age fell between that of Ryder and the bald-headed veteran, said,
"
Yeah, I know Krebs. All dried-up and used up. Kind of like you, Dicker.
"

The older warrant reddened right up through the desert of his scalp. The other warrants loved to tease him, since he never failed to rise to the bait.

"
Chief Krebs,
"
he said angrily,
"
could chew you up and spit you out. Why, I remember back in Africa—
"

His tormentor made a face of mock curiosity.
"
What the hell were you doing in Africa, Dicker? Vacation or something?
"

The teasing inspired the old warrant to begin a lengthy defense of the achievements of a long career. Ryder waited politely, if impatiently, until he could get a word in, then asked quickly:

"
Dicker, you going to eat those eggs?
"

"
Well, fuck me dead,
"
Ryder's third tablemate said, looking up from the wreckage of his breakfast.

Ryder looked in the indicated direction. Colonel Williams, the commander of the Tenth Cavalry, had entered the dining room. It was the first time during the deployment that Ryder had seen the colonel, who spent his time out at the field sites, directing the actions of his electronic warfare squadrons. It was apparent that something important was going down, since Colonel Williams had marched right in wearing his field gear over a worn-looking camouflage uniform. His boots marked his progress with traces of mud. The colonel looked impatient.

Lieutenant Colonel Manzetti, the senior officer in the staff detachment billeted in the hotel, erupted from his table, dropping his napkin on the floor as he hurried toward the regimental commander. Manzetti chewed and swallowed as he maneuvered through the tables. The lieutenant colonel was a holdover from the days before Colonel Williams had been given the command with the mission of clearing out the deadwood and the homesteaders, and Manzetti's haste to intercept Williams reminded Ryder of the movement of a frightened animal.

The two officers nearly collided. Colonel Williams stood with his hands on his hips, braced off his web belt. Manzetti sculpted excuses with his hands. It was impossible to hear what they were discussing, but the situation did not appear to be promising.

"
Wonder what's up?
"
Ryder said to his tablemates. He lifted the last forkful of scrambled eggs to his lips, catching the woman's scent off his hand, despite his shower.

Tonight, he promised himself.

As the warrants watched in collective horror Manzetti suddenly pointed toward their table. Without an instant's delay Colonel Williams headed their way, leaving the lieutenant colonel behind with a devastated expression on his face. Williams looked angry.

"
Oh, shit,
"
Dicker muttered.

A warning bell sounded in Ryder's head, and the stew of eggs began to weigh heavily in his stomach.

"
This can't be good news,
"
said the warrant who had been tormenting Dicker. Each of the warrants carefully avoided looking at the approaching colonel, making a careful show of breakfasting.

Ryder already knew this had something to do with him. The cracking of the Japanese computer system had been too important an achievement to leave unexploited. Due to the special classification of his work, even Ryder's tablemates did not know exactly what had occurred the day before. But Ryder knew beyond any doubt that Colonel Williams had digested the information.

The colonel stopped just short of their table. Towering above them. Tucker Williams was a veteran of every shooting match in which the United States had been involved since the Zaire intervention. He was notoriously zealous and uncompromising, and when he was angry, the outlines of his RD scars showed through his cheeks and forehead, despite the artistry of the Army's plastic surgeons. He was said to be an old pal of Colonel George Taylor, the Army's number one living legend, and the scuttlebutt had it that one thing Williams and Taylor unmistakably held in common was that dozens of comfortable, satisfied midcareer officers had resigned rather than go to work for either man.

Williams's face looked smooth and unscarred now. He no longer appeared angry, and Ryder felt partially relieved.

All of the warrant officers stood up in the colonel's presence, although Dicker Sienkiewicz rose slowly, asserting his bone-deep warrant-officership.

"
Chief Ryder?
"
Williams asked, briefly scanning their faces before his eyes settled on the right man. The colonel had not yet had sufficient time in command to thoroughly learn all of their faces, and there were no name tags on the warrants' ill-fitting civilian suits and sport jackets.
"
I need to talk to you.
"
He glanced at the other warrants.
"
The rest of you guys just get on with your breakfast. Chief,
"
he told Ryder,
"
you come with me.
"

There was no secure area within the hotel, and the colonel simply headed for a barren table a bit removed from
the breakfast crowd, waving away concerned waiters as though they were of less consequence than flies. Ryder followed the big man across the room like a guilty convict awaiting his sentence. He could hardly believe the change in himself. Normally, he was as dutiful as an officer could be. He lived for his work. Since the divorce. And here he was, in the midst of the real thing at last, perhaps even a key player, and he could not help thinking fearfully of a woman he had met only the evening before. A foreign, unexplained, officially disapproved woman.

"
Take a seat, Chief,
"
the colonel said. He sat down heavily across from Ryder, slapping his field cap down on the tabletop. He did not bother to remove his carrying harness or the stained field jacket.

Williams looked at Ryder with the penetrating, don't-dare-try-to-bullshit-me eyes the Army had taught the young warrant to associate with leaders who got things done.

"
Sounds like you broke the bank, Chief,
"
Williams said.
"
Congratulations.
"

Ryder nodded his thanks, unsure of himself.

The colonel glanced around the big room one more time, making sure that no waiters would descend on them.

"
What a clusterfuck,
"
the colonel said in disgust.
"
I can see I'm going to have to clean up this sideshow. Christ, I never saw such a bunch of hungover pussy-hounds. It's amazing you've gotten anything accomplished at all.
"

Ryder looked down at the tablecloth.

"
Chief,
"
the colonel said,
"
I'm going to get you out of this and give you a chance to do some real work. Not that what you've already done isn't top-notch. But it's just the beginning. You've opened up a world of new possibilities for us. Goddamnit, are you listening to me?
"

Ryder stiffened, shocked by the colonel's apparent ability to see inside him.

"
Yes, sir. I'm listening.
"

"
Well, we've got a hell of a show going on downcountry. And it's far from over, if an old soldier's instincts are worth a damn. I've been up all night, working on a very special contingency plan with my field staff. Thanks to you. Son, do you realize that the President of the United States has

already been briefed on your... achievement yesterday?
"
Ryder had not known.

"
That's right,
"
Williams continued.
"
The goddamned President himself. And we've been busting our asses to come up with a con-plan to exploit what you've given us. Now we're just lacking one piece.
"
The colonel looked at Ryder.

"
What's that, sir?
"

"
You. We need you downcountry. And I'll tell you honestly—if we implement this plan, it might be dangerous as hell.
"
The colonel laughed happily.
"
But you'll be in good hands. You'll be working under an old friend of mine. He and I go back to a tent in the Azores. Now, he doesn't know shit about all this yet. He's a little busy at the moment. But I know old George Taylor well enough to know what I can sell him and what I can't. And he'll buy this one, all right. He'll see the beauty of the thing.
"
The colonel smiled, recollecting.
"
Anyway, we're going to put you to work. Lot of details to iron out. With any luck, we may never have to execute this plan. But, by God, we're going to be ready.
"