Grisha smiled in his mind. They were going to get it now!
“With all due respect to your military ranks and your stations in your culture, none of you are willing to compromise even an inch. You want it your way or the waterway. The underlying theme here is: if you don’t agree with me, you are my enemy.
“I don’t know your culture other than what my husband had shared with me. But I know people. All that the men in this room have shown me is disdain.
“You think we have an inferior culture because it is open to everyone, even women, to question, debate, confer, and to run. You are still caught up in your centuries of male superiority to the point you do not realize the world has changed around you.
“You are losing a war because you are afraid to lose status in your own villages. I am at my wits’ end trying to show you the reality of your situation, and I am tired. I want to go home and let you explain to the Japanese how important you are in Angoon or Kake—I’m sure they will appreciate it much more than I do.”
Wing took a deep breath and looked over at Grisha. “Can we go home now, General?”
Not smiling was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. He glanced around the room at their angry faces, dark looks and total discomfiture. The only hope for this alliance was that Wing had cracked their common defense.
“Gentlemen, do we have anything further to discuss?”
General Sobolof rose to his feet and cleared his throat. Blood colored his wide cheekbones and he chewed at his lower lip, glowering at Wing and Grisha.
“I can appreciate the colonel’s attitude. But as she has already stated, this is not her culture. However, to declare an impasse at such an early juncture in a political dialogue is—”
Wing stood up so quickly her chair fell over backward and slammed on the floor.
“This is more than an impasse, General! This is total disregard of a critical military situation in deference to a social norm. If that’s what you want to spend your time discussing, that’s fine with this delegate, but I refuse to waste my time here when I could be defending my people. General Grigorovich is absent when needed by his troops and his adopted country. He does not need tradition and station to prove his worth; he has already done so with his courage and leadership. And that is something I would highly recommend to every other man in this room.”
She stomped out of the chamber and silence fell like a leaden shroud.
Despite surreptitious glances, Grisha held his tongue. Wing had done nothing more than to speak the truth and he was determined that if even one of them maligned her in any way, he would leave the conference and call for Commander Vandenberg and his submarine to take them away.
Colonel Sam Dundas rose to his feet, staring at the door through which Wing had disappeared. “I think I’m in love. Grisha, will you sell your wife?”
Every man in the room laughed long and hard.
Grisha kept his smile and waited for the laughter to subside. “Not for all the abalone in Angoon, Sam. I appreciate your sentiment but I know what a prize I have found.”
General Sobolof stood and regarded Grisha gravely. “General Grigorovich, we all know you, have known you for your entire life. Your new station amazes us and gives us pause. Your wife gives us even more pause… because she is right.”
Grisha tried not to hold his breath.
“We are frightened because we need help, yet we do not want to sacrifice what culture we have retained in order to maintain our freedom.”
Grisha kept his silence and stared back at the general.
“If it hasn’t been obvious, we don’t know what to do.”
He had thought it all out, but he knew he couldn’t shove it down their throats. This was as close to a plea as he would get.
“I know you,” Grisha said in measured tones. “I have known you all my life. But I need this to be very clear and succinct. Are you asking me for my advice?”
“In the name of Raven, yes!” Sam Dundas exclaimed.
Grisha nodded. “Very well. If it were me, I would go to the people and say…”
71
9 miles east of Delta
Yukon Cassidy drove slowly over the rock rubble known as the Russia-Canada Highway. RustyCan was closer to the truth and that is what everyone called it. His utility thumped and bumped over the uneven surface and he detected new squeaks from the vehicle chassis as well as the wood and metal lodge top swaying side to side over the road.
In the passenger seat, snoring softly as he rocked to and fro, sat Roland Delcambré. Cassidy glanced over at the small man and grinned. At first he had been skeptical about the man’s advertised abilities, but his small frame was wiry and held impressive strength.
The thing Cassidy liked most about him was his quick mind and erudite tongue. Smart, well-spoken, dependable people were few and far between in these parts and the longer he knew Roland the more he appreciated him.
He did his unconscious left-to-right horizon sweep and movement caught his eye. Something small was coming toward him on the road. Motorcycle, he decided.
Courier? Scout? Deserter? The possibilities flashed through his mind in a flash. The answer really didn’t matter, but they needed to be prepared for anything.
“Roland, we have company.”
Delcambré’s eyes opened as if he had been awake all along.
“Looks like a motorcycle.” He pulled a small pair of binoculars from the gear at his feet and focused. “Forsooth! It is a BMW motorcycle and not only am I very familiar with the machine, I am also very familiar with the rider.”
Cassidy pulled his foot off the accelerator pedal and pushed in the clutch. The utility rolled to a stop and he put it in neutral and switched off the engine. No point in wasting petrol.
“Who is it?”
“Our mutual acquaintance, Timothy Riordan of the International Freekorps.” Delcambré chuckled. “And the son of a bitch is alone! His bully boys have either been stomped flat in a fight or co-opted by a larger force.”
Cassidy checked the clip in his .45 Colt automatic, then looked to his Sharps .45-.70. The buffalo gun was an antique, but still deadly and quite serviceable. His proficiency with both weapons was well known.
“Will he recognize you?”
“Absolutely,” Delcambré said with a smile. “He loved to make me the butt of jokes because of my size. If we decide to shoot him, can I do it?”
Cassidy laughed. “He’ll recognize me, too. I tried to stop him and his soldiers from taking everything they could carry out of a grocery store down in the Nation. They not only left a good man and wife destitute, they also left me unconscious with a broken jaw. If you want to shoot this bastard before I do, you’d best be fast.”
“Wait a minute,” Roland said, squinting at Cassidy. “Aren’t you supposed to bring him back to Pa Sapa for trial? Isn’t that what that Indian general, General Spotted Bird, wanted you to do?”
“If I can.” Cassidy gave him a ghastly leer. “If I can’t bring him back alive, Lawrence will understand. I just have to bring him back.”
The motorcycle had neared to a hundred meters, and slowed to a crawl. The machine stopped and Riordan balanced the BMW between his legs and stared at them.
Cassidy waited.
72
Battle of Refuge
Janeki felt a shiver run up his spine from his ass to his skull. He had watched it all unravel. The easy win over a bunch of rebel deserters had turned into a battle of considerable proportion, with devastating losses.