Rains laughed.
“Of course, because anything lesser would be beneath you,” he joked.
He stopped smiling on seeing Taylor’s deadly serious expression.
“No, you can’t be serious?”
“Sadly, yes. We’ve got a shot, but I’ve got no idea how we’ll pull it off.”
“And Jones, where is he?”
“On his own mission. We’ll have to go without him. Evans, Wood, you’re with Jones. Do whatever you can to help. The rest of you are with me.”
“So it’s what, the four of us? I know we’ve pulled off some pretty impressive shit over the years, but don’t you think you’re being a little overly ambitious with this?”
Taylor nodded in agreement.
“Aren’t we always? Let’s not look for problems. Let’s look for solutions.”
He led them around a corner to where empty ammunition crates had been stacked and took a seat on one while the others joined him.
“What’s our time frame?” Rains asked.
“No idea, but we have to do this ASAP.”
“And how do you intend to kill him?”
Taylor shrugged. “Working on a few ideas.”
“I hate to say it, but we need help.”
Taylor stopped, looking up into the sky as he mulled it over in his head. He knew his situation was an impossible one, and he couldn’t find a sensible answer to their problems.
“So what do we do?”
“First thing is we gotta get into Germany, Eddie. They may have got across the border unnoticed or contested, but I doubt we’ll be so lucky. Neither can we go in by force.”
“So what options are left?”
“We go in as civilians.”
“As spies you mean? Minute we take off our uniforms and go into hostile territory, we aren’t marines anymore; we aren’t soldiers. We aren’t enemy combatants. We are clandestine forces and will be shot as spies.”
“Are you serious? All the danger we’ve gone through, and your biggest concern is being shot? We could have been shot and killed any time today, yesterday, and any one of hundreds of days in the war.”
“But we’d do it in our colours, as who we are.”
Taylor was surprised it meant so much to him. For a man who flaunted all the rules of uniform, the prospect of going without his identity scared him.
“I need you,” replied Taylor.
“Damn right you do,” he replied in a quivering tone, “Cos I’m the only son of a bitch stupid enough to do what you ask.”
Taylor smiled in response and got up to pat him on the shoulder.
“That’s right, but you’ve got us all this far, haven’t you?”
Taylor took in a deep breath. Some ideas were finally coming to him, and he knew he had to at least give them a shot.
“Eddie, your job is to find us transport. Something small and civilian that won’t draw any attention.”
“Round here?”
“I didn’t say it would be easy. Just get it done.”
He turned to the other two.
“Next, you will find us clothing. We need to look convincing as civilians, so find us the appropriate stuff.”
“Where, Sir?” Lewis asked.
“Gentlemen, this is a country ravaged by war where civilians are fleeing for their lives. Finding some clothes shouldn’t be an issue. Go to the nearest highway, and I bet you good money, you’ll find it backed up with cars packed with clothing from those without the cash to fly out of the warzone. So go and forage for whatever you can get.”
“You want us to pillage from what refugees have left on the road?” Robinson asked in disgust.
“Let’s get this straight,” Taylor spoke sternly, “These are desperate times. You’ve seen it for yourself; so we don’t have time to get all soft and mushy over things we can neither affect nor help with in any way, other than by what we are already doing. Let’s focus on winning this war. It’s what we have a right and duty to do, no matter what, you got it?”
None of them liked it, but they accepted it.
“So if we get transport and clothes, we might get close to Munich, but then what? It’s not like we can just walk in and put a bullet in Erdogan’s head. How are we gonna get close to him, and even then, how are we gonna kill him?” Rains asked.
“There are plenty of humans working with the enemy. We should be able to blend in fine. How we get that close to Erdogan, well I dunno, but we’ll figure something out. And how we kill him? You’ve got me. We’ll figure much of this out as we go along.”
“You know this is a complete fucking disaster waiting to happen?”
Taylor nodded. “Isn’t everywhere around us in as bad a state? What else would you have me do?”
“Get some help. Find some support to get us through this. Otherwise, we’re just throwing our lives away because we can’t think of anything else. You’ve got this far because you’ve had others to rely on and see you through. We’re here for you, but we aren’t enough.”
Taylor knew it was true. His friends had kept him winning all along. He tried to think of how he could gain some support, but he was running out of friends to turn to. He looked to the other two.
“Rains has had a whole lot to say, what do you think?”
They were surprised and speechless. Clearly, they were not used to officers asking them their opinion.
“Well, come on, speak your mind.”
“Sir…” replied Robinson, “we need help. We need manpower, we need weapons, and we need the resources to make this mission happen, or we’re just pissing in the wind.”
Taylor nodded in agreement. “Then you have my word. I'll get us the support we need."
Chapter 9
Taylor rushed back into Dupont’s bunker.
"I need to talk to General Heath in Pittsburgh. You can make that happen, can't you?" he demanded.
"Probably, but I don't know what good it will do you, Colonel."
"You let me worry about that. You haven't got the resources to give me, fine. But you need to help me get them elsewhere."
Dupont turned to his comms officer and nodded in agreement to carry out Taylor's request. They stood waiting for several minutes before they finally got a response from Pittsburgh.
"I'm sorry, but General Heath is not available at this time," a voice replied.
"Taylor rushed across the room, stopped the comms operator from speaking, and did so himself.
"This Colonel Mitch Taylor. Get the General on the line immediately," he commanded.
The line went quiet, and they waited for thirty seconds before a response finally came through.
"Taylor, where the hell are you?" Heath asked.
"Sir, I'm here with General Dupont in Northern France, but that doesn't matter. What matters is we have an opportunity to..."
"Opportunity!" screamed Heath, "Goddamn it, Taylor, you left your post and left this fight! Get your ass back here now!"
"Can't do that, Sir. What I'm doing here is too important."
"I'll tell you what is important, Colonel, the survival of the United States and its people. We need every goddamn fighting man and woman in this country on side and with a rifle in hand. You need to get some perspective here."
"Yes, Sir, perspective is exactly what I have. If I can have just a few moments of your time."
Heath gave a long and drawn out sigh and finally answered, "You've got one minute to explain yourself, and if I'm not convinced, I want you on a ship back here, got it?"
Taylor ignored the question because he could not rightfully accept the deal when he knew he might well have to break it.
"Sir, we have a chance to end this with one precision strike."
"What are you talking about?"
Taylor turned to Dupont. "Is this line definitely secure? I mean, beyond all doubt."