“Is it big enough for us to carry wounded down there?”
“It’s a tight squeeze for about twenty blocks north of Fisikous until we get to Traky Avenue — a single sixty-inch main, hunchback city for about three miles-but north of there to the river it’s at least an eighty-inch main, and under Gedimino Boulevard it’s practically Grand Central Station. My partner and I ride bicycles down there to get around, and we’ve taken shopping carts and little wagons down there to move our gear—”
“Okay, okay, Sergeant,” Snyder interrupted. This guy’s been down in the sewer too long, Snyder thought. “We’ve got wounded and dead to evacuate. Still think it’s practical?”
“It’ll take you a long time, sir, maybe three or four hours, until you can carry your wounded upright,” Gladden said. “It’s clean with all the winter runoff, and it’s not flooded, but if you can wrap your wounded in plastic and blankets or a body bag it’d be better. But, yes, sir, I’d say it’s double.”
“All right,” Snyder said. He thought about it for a moment. He had a momentary fear when he thought about traveling across the city in a small, dark, confining tube several yards underground, but the thought of facing those attack helicopters wasn’t very appealing either. “We’ll take the sewers, but not everybody’s going to go that way,” Snyder said. “The enemy will be expecting us to make a break for the embassy, and if they don’t see activity in the streets they’ll start looking for us in other places. I don’t want to get caught in a firefight in the damned sewers.
“We’ll split up. The dead, the seriously wounded, and some of the team will go by truck. Some team members will go by separate vehicles by parallel routes to cover the trucks. We’ll take the walking wounded and the rest through the sewers, including the zoomies and the documents.” He turned to General Palcikas, who had been receiving a report from his radioman — a new one, Snyder saw. The other man was nowhere to be seen. “Sir, where is your other radioman?”
“Dead,” Palcikas replied. “He shielded me with his body during air raid.”
“I’m very sorry, sir,” Snyder said. It was hard for Snyder to express any real emotions right now — he had seen more death that day than he had ever thought he would in a lifetime. “We will try again to take a convoy out of the Fisikous compound, but this time I’d like three separate convoys, taking parallel routes to guard each other’s flank.”
“I agree,” the Lithuanian general said. “We have been in contact with many people … citizens … who will help now.
“Excellent,” Snyder said. “What are your intentions, sir?”
“We will stay,” Palcikas replied. “We will begin taking the ammunition from the security building and taking it to our underground cells in the city. I am in contact with my units across the country now, so I can direct defense from here. I deploy one battalion to oppose Commonwealth infantry base at Darguziai to south — they threaten capital first. One, maybe two companies to protect parliament building and communications center in capital. Then we fight the Byelorussian helicopters and infantry from Smorgon. Big battle tomorrow morning.”
“I wish you luck, sir,” Snyder said. “I will relay any requests you have to the U.S. Embassy, along with my full report on how you helped my unit.”
“Pas deschaz,” Palcikas said, waving a hand. “You help, I help. You good soldier. Good luck to you too.”
“Thank you, sir.” He turned to Gunny Trimble and said, “Pull out the maps and—”
“Captain, we’re not going with you,” John Ormack said.
Snyder turned toward the Air Force officers and flashed Ormack an angry glare, but acted as if he didn’t hear what Ormack had said. “You’re going with me, Ormack.”
“That’s General Ormack, Captain,” Ormack said. Several of the Marines had encircled the group, wanting to hear more, and even Palcikas focused his attention on Ormack, a slightly amused smile on his face. Snyder turned and looked at Ormack in surprise and disbelief. “And I told you, Captain, we’re not going back to the embassy with you. Not yet.”
Now Snyder was really angry, and Trimble looked twice as angry as his superior. “You have no choice in the matter, General. You are assigned to my unit. You have no authority to make decisions.”
“I’m taking the authority right now,” Ormack said. “Your orders were to break inside Fisikous, find REDTAIL HAWK, and allow us to examine the classified material in this place. Well, REDTAIL HAWK’s been located, but we haven’t seen what we want to see yet. As long as General Palcikas stays here at Fisikous, we’re staying. We want to examine Tuman, the Fisikous-170 stealth bomber.”
“You are trying to tell me what my orders are?” Snyder asked incredulously. “No goddamned way, Ormack. I am in charge of this detail. I make the decisions. If I say you go, you will go. If I have to put you in handcuffs and hogtie you, I’ll do it. You can squawk all you want to the brass after we get home, but if I accomplish my mission successfully, nobody will say boo to me. Now I want you to pick up your damned classified and get ready to move out.”
“For the last time, Snyder — we’re not leaving,” Ormack said finally. He motioned to McLanahan, Briggs, and Luger, and they stepped away from the circle of troops and headed for the parking-ramp area and aircraft hangars. “We’ll be in the third hangar examining the bomber—”
“Gunny Trimble, put those four men in irons,” Snyder said. “Drag them to the sewer manhole if you have to.” Trimble was moving before Snyder finished speaking. He was smart — he reached for Hal Briggs first. Hal was ready for him. With a twist and a swing of his right arm, Briggs threw off Trimble’s grasp. With a low cry, Trimble leaped on Briggs, trying to drive him to the ground …
Suddenly a hand clutched his jacket, and Trimble found himself being lifted away from Briggs as if hooked on to a hydraulic crane …
It was General Dominikas Palcikas who had hold of Gunnery Sergeant Trimble. The big Lithuanian officer had no difficulty restraining Trimble. The other four or five Marines in the group were too stunned to move, hesitant to gang up on any officer, including a foreigner on his own soil.
“I think that is enough,” Palcikas said. As if he were separating two squabbling children, he firmly but gently shoved Trimble away. “You may not do this.”
“General Palcikas, what in hell are you doing?” Snyder said. One hand slipped down to his holster. Palcikas saw the move, but only smiled. Snyder changed his mind. “Gunny, carry out your order.”
Trimble tried to push past Palcikas, but the Lithuanian general stepped in between him and the Air Force officers. It was obvious from Trimble’s eyes that he was deciding the best way to take out Palcikas, but instead of reacting he shouted, “Out of my way, son of a bitch!”
“This general has given you your orders, Sergeant.”
“I don’t take orders from him!” Trimble shouted. At that moment Trimble reached into his holster to draw his .45 …
… And Palcikas’ Makarov was in his face long before his fingers touched the leather, the muzzle barely three inches from his forehead. A few Marines surrounding the group began to unsling rifles from their shoulders or draw pistols, but the Lithuanian soldiers with them already had their AK-47s at the ready — they were not aiming them at the Marines, but held them at port arms, fingers on the trigger guards. The threat was clear.