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.”
Lassiter perched on a stool in the hydrofoil’s wheelhouse moments later as the larger craft slipped out to sea. He pointed at Keradin. “Is that guy in the shorts really him?”
“He sure is,” Cobb answered.
“Doesn’t look like a general to me.” Lassiter got up and circled their prize. Keradin, who affected a haughty air, refused to acknowledge the other. They had just boarded a Soviet hydrofoil, and as they had come alongside, Keradin had the faint hope that perhaps a mistake had been made — until he heard someone hail Cobb in English. To his knowledge, no one in Moscow was aware the Americans had commandeered a Soviet boat.
“And the lovely lady, Cobb — who is the lovely lady?” Verra was still wearing the dress she’d worn to Keradin’s dacha that evening. In Russian, he remarked, “Cobb has done some pretty strange things since I’ve known him, but he never found someone like you before. I expect you’ll be wanting to change into something a little more in keeping with our trip. I’ll have one of my men take you below and see if they can fit you out.”
She still had an eye on Keradin. “I hate to let him out of my sight.”
“Well, ma’am,” Lassiter continued, “I don’t think you have to worry about him at all. You see, even though we still seem to be in the Black Sea, he’s just got himself into American custody. The only Russian you’re going to find around this boat is the general himself. Everyone else is as American as you can get — just like your friend Cobb here.” Lassiter talked like a boy just off the farm. His accent and demeanor were easygoing, as if he were welcoming someone to the country fair. “You leave him up to me and I promise you that nothing good’s going to happen to him. A couple of my boys will hog-tie him for you, just to be sure.”
When Keradin and Verra had gone, Lassiter’s expression changed. “Cobb, my boy, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the best-laid plans of mice and men…”
“We’re not crossing,” Cobb interrupted.
“Nothing to cross to. That lovely little Turkish village you landed in when you flew up from Saratoga is no more. No landing field, no town, not even a dock to tie up to. All gone, blown into tomorrow. I don’t think they were onto you specifically. Otherwise, your friend the general might have been a little better informed about us. But I think their satellites gave them the message that American aircraft were landing there. What better reason to blow it up?”
“Okay.” Cobb pulled up a stool in front of the chart desk. “Where do we go from here?”
Lassiter pointed at the chart. His finger settled on the western end of the Black Sea. “New orders came through from Sara — from Pratt, I suppose. We’re going to have to make it back by boat. They figure the Russians have airspace control all the way to the Turkish straits and they don’t want to lose your general. I’m hoping to refuel at Istanbul.” He clapped Cobb on the shoulder. “Then you’re in for the ride of your life. NATO really would like to have Keradin in one piece.”
D MINUS 1
Pratt postured with a rash of plain language messages directed to the Pentagon to convey his optimism, knowing Moscow would intercept them. Battle group preparation was at a pinnacle. French and Italian naval units were making a magnificent contribution, beyond anything Pratt had expected. Soviet Backfire bombers, testing the readiness of the Americans, had been led by the hand and then shocked at their own inability to either surprise or penetrate the early-warning screen. Totally original antisubmarine tactics had baffled Russian attack submarines lurking in the Gulf of Sidra. And his final message revealed that his man had apparently been successful in removing the head of the Soviet Strategic Rocket Forces alive, though he was not yet in American custody.
The picture in Washington, however, was not so rosy, with the United States and much of NATO presented with an entirely different set of circumstances. KGB disinformation had progressed beyond the USSR’s wildest dreams. The Japanese government, after the resignation of the Premier, demanded the departure of the U.S. Seventh Fleet; they claimed it was making a target out of their country. Terrorist activities in the major cities of NATO member countries had succeeded in frightening the general populace, if not their leadership. Industry and business had ceased to function. Transportation was at a standstill. Citizens feared to leave their homes after the threats of assassination and bombing became a reality. As reserve forces were activated and U.S. Military Police appeared in the streets to reinforce local police and militia, newspapers and left-wing organizations called for a halt to war preparations. Evacuation of U.S. dependents further heightened the crisis as the European media hinted darkly that the American intent was to make Central Europe the only battlefield.