After taking one more spiteful glance at the last of those who had not yet gotten the hint, Likhatchev returned to the issue at hand. "If the goal of the NATO intervention was to disable Perimeter, then it has failed," he announced brusquely, clueing Orlov to the fact that he had managed to best his former superior during the sharp exchange.
Finished with his cursory examination of the terrain and situation, Orlov straightened and turned to face the man he had been sent to kill. "You don't sound convinced."
He wasn't, and he knew it showed. Taking a moment to collect himself, Likhatchev made every effort to soften his tone. "Both you and I know what we would do if we had to deal with the situation NATO now faces."
This brought a smile to Orlov's face, for it reminded him of old times, of desperate missions against foes who meant nothing to him and were, therefore, easy to hate. "We would muster all men who could walk and carry a gun, form them up, and set out to finish the job."
Slowly, Likhatchev's eyes narrowed as he looked into Orlov's. "Don't you suppose they are in the process of doing that?"
It finally dawned on the Russian colonel what this was all about. But he wasn't going to let on. Playing along, Orlov shook his head in agreement and followed suit by toning down his discourse. "But of course, my dear General. While they may not be Russian, they are still commandos, the best the West has. Despite what some may think of the American military and its weak-kneed European sisters, it is not in their nature to turn their backs on a mission such as this half finished."
"I agree, as does my operations officer. Unfortunately," the General sighed as he turned away and made his way over to a long table running down the center of the room, "I have exhausted my reserves." Stopping at the edge of the table, he rummaged through a stack of papers until he found what he was looking for. After making a show of examining the sheet he held, he offered it to Orlov. "As serious as this particular situation is, I cannot ignore humanitarian relief efforts. Though the forces under my control are numerically impressive, the task they face is daunting."
As he took the sheet the General offered him, Orlov didn't bother looking at it. Instead, he simply stood in silence while Likhatchev went on. "Quite naturally, Moscow has done nothing to assist."
Orlov shrugged. "Naturally. You are, after all, in rebellion, are you not?"
The General, who had taken up wandering about the crowded room as he spoke, paused and looked over his shoulder at Orlov. "Yes, exactly." Then he glanced back at the map that displayed the missile silos and locations of known and suspected NATO forces. "And I suppose it is safe to say that NATO knows what's going on here, even though they continue to send in relief flights."
"Reinforcements?" Orlov asked.
"No. That I am sure of. But I suspect that the NATO aircraft on the ground here are part of the planned egress."
"What will you do if they are, General? With Moscow making no effort to assist by providing disaster relief, and NATO willing to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary is going on, to seize those aircraft, or to block the arrival of still more, would be, in my humble opinion, foolish."
"A perplexing problem, is it not, Demetre?" Likhatchev asked as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers and stared at the row of maps arrayed along one entire wall of the operations center. "This is just the sort of situation that men such as you and I live for."
The Russian colonel could not help but detect the joy in his former commander's voice. Had the asteroid that had set this entire chain of events in motion not been so completely out of the blue, Orlov would have had a difficult time convincing himself that Likhatchev had not been behind the entire crisis. "Since you have brought the subject up," Orlov said slyly, "I am curious as to why you have allowed me to live."
Likhatchev's words lost the somewhat easier tone that had crept into their conversation. "As 1 said, I have no reserve to dispatch to protect the remaining Dead Hand sites. While it is true that I could pull some of my troops off search-and-rescue, they would be no match for the tough professionals they would be going against. The butchering of the two platoons by a force only a fraction of their size is ample proof of that."
"So," Orlov said, "you want to use my men to do what yours could not."
If Likhatchev was irked by his former protégé’s remark, he didn't show it. Instead, tired of their psychological sparring, the Russian general simply nodded. "Yes, I want to use your men. They are available and they are the ideal weapon with which to deal with an elite enemy force."
Folding his arms, Orlov muttered as if in thought. "Huh. Logical, very logical."
For a moment, the two men were silent. Side-by-side, each waited for the other to make the next move. Likhatchev was anxious for Orlov to ask the question he knew the colonel was pondering. For his part, Orlov held back any further comments until his former superior asked the question he knew was coming. In the end, knowing full well that time was not on his side in this matter, it was the General who gave in. Turning to face Orlov, Likhatchev moved as close to the Russian colonel as he could so that no one else could hear him. In a hushed, almost pleading tone, he finally made it clear why Orlov was there. "Will you lead them?"
Feeling a twinge of triumph at having forced his master to ask in this manner, Orlov was now prepared to press his advantage. "I will have no restrictions placed upon me," he stated crisply. "No strings, no political commissars to make sure 1 behave, and full cooperation from any units under your command that 1 deem necessary to appropriate in order to accomplish my assigned tasks."
Though he was angered by Orlov's imperious manner, Likhatchev knew that he was in no position to quibble. Drawing in a deep breath, the General nodded. "Yes, yes. Of course. Only," he quickly added, "you understand that I must send an additional signal detachment along with you. The equipment your people brought was configured to keep Moscow informed of your progress. My communications chief tells me you are lacking the sort of short-range tactical sets that will be necessary to coordinate with other friendly forces on the ground."
"Not to mention," Orlov added without hesitation, "keeping you informed of my actions."
Likhatchev managed a sickly grin. "But of course. After all, you were sent to kill me. Only a fool would offer a loaded gun to the man robbing him."
Though he assumed that the general had already taken steps to ensure he didn't have a second chance at accomplishing his primary directive, Orlov decided not to pursue that issue. Based upon his quick study of the terrain he would have to cross and his experience from the previous day, he would need every minute he could find to make it to the sites he was expected to defend. Having finally been given a clear and definitive mission, one that was not contaminated by questions of professional loyalty or patriotism, Orlov found that he had no need to consider the consequences or weigh the alternatives. Snapping to attention, he pivoted about smartly until he squarely faced Likhatchev. "General, I am at your service."
Pleased that his former subordinate was again working for him, the General nodded approvingly, without ever forgetting that this state of affairs could, once Perimeter was secure, change yet again.
Chapter 19
On the recommendation of his commander, Andrew Fretello dispensed with many of the steps normally taken prior to the commencement of a military operation. This bothered the American major. To an officer trained in the art of operational planning, jumping into something without first making sure that everything was just so went against his nature. But there was little he could do at the moment, since a "recommendation" in the Army carried the same weight as an order, particularly when the person making that recommendation was Colonel Robert Hightower. Never one to ignore reality. Fretello heeded his commander's recommendations with a crisp "Yes, sir" in response.