A man came to the side of the Marder, and through the evident pain of talking, an effort that opened the distended tissue surrounding his mouth and caused a mess of blood and pus to drop from his chin, spoke to the major.
‘Will you help us please. I beg you.’
He had to pause, swaying as if close to the limit of his tolerance of the agony he was enduring.
‘Please, please help us. The others would not listen, they drove straight at us.’ He indicated the figure on the stretcher. ‘My wife is hurt. You must help us.’
Thorne had come up beside the officer. He winced at the sight of the refugees, and spoke quietly to the major from behind the cover of a hand cupped over his mouth. ‘They’re as good as dead. We were always expecting the commies to use stuff like this against us in Hamburg. They never did, but I got to learn all the symptoms. Most of the adults have got anthrax, and they’ve got it bad. The kids have got San Paulo fever, or something like that. See the rash? And they can’t stand the light. Not sure about the woman on the stretcher, could be plague of some kind, but it looks like it’s in the terminal stage.’
‘I’m sorry, we have to go on.’ Revell hardly needed the information from the sapper. He’d identified the anthrax for himself, and had made intelligent guesses of the other diseases. ‘All we can do is leave you food and medicine. I have to maintain radio silence at present, but I’ll call ambulances and a medical evac-team as soon as I can.’
The spokesman shook his head. His first words came out as animal noises and he had to stop, summon reserves of strength and try again.
‘No, that is what we want.’ Slowly he lifted his arm and his tattered sleeve slid back to display even larger blisters on his forearm, so close together that in overlapping masses they doubled the thickness of the limb.
As the refugee’s wavering finger indicated the 20mm cannon, Revell slowly and carefully let his hand slide down to fasten on the butt of his pistol. These didn’t look the sort, weren’t in the condition to be active bandits on the look-out for weapons and transport, but he had to be ready for anything. Staying silent on the demand he waited for the man to speak again.
‘Please, do not misunderstand.’ He brought his hands together in a gesture of supplication but his bloated fingers would not enmesh and so he put them as close as their deformity would allow. ‘Please, I am asking you to kill us.’
SEVEN
Had there been time to do it thoroughly, Colonel Rozenkov would have enjoyed breaking in his new command, but the operation came first and until it was over there would be no chance to commence so pleasant a task, and savour it.
His arrival had produced an effect in the headquarters of Department A that could be compared with the trauma experienced among the ordered lives of termites on their mound being suddenly and violently ripped apart. Circumstances were forcing him to use sledgehammer tactics where he would have preferred the scalpel. Both achieved the same result, the same bloodletting, but it would have been better done in a manner that had let him keep close control of every cut, every transplant, every amputation. The precision of surgery was much his favourite method.
But heavy handed tactics did have the virtue of bringing quickly to his notice weaknesses in the organization that might otherwise have escaped his attention for days or even weeks. Already four members of the staff were under arrest. Two of them did not even know it yet. Armed escorts were on the way to fetch them now, from whatever pastime, girl friend or other distraction it was that kept them away when they should have been on duty.
He had almost forgotten, there was a fifth arrest, it had been right here, in his office. The woman had been stupid, the moment she had obviously non-accidentally brushed her big breasts against him it was clear how she had risen to the rank of lieutenant. In her haste to be the first to try to ingratiate herself, perhaps to ensure the security of her position, or possibly to gain further promotion she had acted too soon. Stupid sow, she should have waited, appraised him first. Most likely the result of her advance would have been the same, but at least this way she had got to know immediately what new position he had in mind for her.
In essence it was not dissimilar to what she’d been trying for, but it would be in neither the place or the circumstances she’d been aiming for.
Spread-eagled and manacled across a stained, nail raked rough table, the instrument between her legs would be an electrode, not his.
In earlier days he had always personally supervised the questioning of the more attractive women. That was the sole indulgence, the single luxury he permitted himself. A refinement he had introduced was to force females to drink copiously beforehand, and then watch the dramatically enhanced effect of the treatment when they could no longer control their bladders.
And there was something else, the private thing he did when the others had gone and he was alone with his… subject. He could admit, to himself, that he was tempted by the lieutenant’s fat udders. They would have made good hand holds as he thrust in and out.
Others would have that pleasure, he could not. He would be under close scrutiny in the first few months he was here, until he weeded out those who might be tempted to be disloyal to him. Before his purge was complete, by demotions and blocked promotions he would make many enemies among the staff. A few would, with cause, hate him so much that their fear of him would not over-ride it. Until he identified those people, and removed them, he would have to go by the book, to the very letter.
The abrupt, almost peremptory double knock at the door came at virtually the instant it started to open. An immaculately uniformed officer from military intelligence entered briskly and walking to the desk threw a salute that in its starkly contrasting slackness was tantamount to insolence.
‘I see that you are not overawed in my presence, eh…?’
‘Major Morkov, Comrade Colonel.’
There was a shade more difference in the words than there had been in the salute. Rozenkov knew he had caught the man off guard by being so blunt.
‘Some commanders might think that a good thing, healthy. You are married, Major? With a family?’
Following the first, that question was not what he’d been expecting, and the major rapidly regained the attitude he’d displayed when he entered. Obviously the new boss of Department A was an old fool who had achieved his promotion through contacts, not by merit, if he was prepared to waste time engaging in trivial conversation. It would be as easy dealing with this one as it had with the last weakling. And to think that for a while he had been worrying about the change-over. He saw now that his post as GRU liaison officer would remain as comfortable and undemanding as before. Still, it might not hurt to humor the old fool.
‘Yes, with three fine sons.’
‘How nice for you. I feel I should tell you though, that you will never see them again if your attitude is not transformed instantly into apologetic grovelling compliance with my every wish and whim.’
‘I… I… Comrade… I am an officer under the command of military intelligence, I report directly to the chief of the GRU.’
‘Who happens to be General Anatoli Mischenko. You must know that the head of the GRU is always an ex-KGB officer. Anatoli is an old friend of mine, owes me many favours. Should you disappear without a trace I have only to ask him to believe that I have no knowledge of what has happened to you, and that will be an end of the matter, as it will be of you. It may be that you are under his command, but you are under my roof. I do not doubt that in this vast building I could find a room where you could be kept half alive for a very long time.’