Severov had already figured all this out. He blurted, “Is the extra land and infrastructure worth a war?”
The general chuckled. “Who would fight for Estonia? Latvia? No, I think NATO will put up some token resistance and then roll over. It will be just like the West’s complaints about Crimea. Americans pay little attention to Eastern Europe. We’ll roll south with little problem.” The general took a seat on a field stool near a desk.
Severov remained silent and waited to hear his orders in this grand scheme. Finally the colonel said, “Anton, on top of commanding your tank platoons, we want you to take charge of this potential Muslim uprising within the ranks. We need them focused on the welfare of Mother Russia, not Allah.”
Severov said, “Why take them at all?”
“We’ll need them for construction and manual labor. They are vital for now.”
Severov nodded.
The colonel said, “Perhaps it would be a good exercise if you pulled one or two of them from the ranks and made them examples. Perhaps just a quick firing squad or maybe a summary execution in place so that everyone can see their bodies as we leave. Do you think you could handle that?”
Severov was about to object when he thought of the perfect person to use as an example. Instead he said, “I am a soldier. I will follow orders.”
The colonel chuckled, slapped him on the back, and said, “Good man, good man.”
Katazin froze in place sitting on the closed toilet seat as his wife stared at the pistol that had been hidden under the towel on the bathroom counter. His daughter appeared to be stunned as well. His eyes went from the pistol to his wife, then to his daughter.
Katazin cleared his throat and said, “It’s simply for protection.”
His wife said, “For an import/export business that doesn’t deal in cash transactions?”
“Who are you? Michael Bloomberg? I can carry a gun.”
“But why would you?” She looked at her daughter and said, “You. Get back to bed right now.”
Katazin’s daughter knew a storm was brewing and not to talk back to her mother when she used a tone like that. She turned and scurried out of the bathroom and down the hallway to her own room.
Now his wife’s attention was back on him. “You had something to do with that explosion down in Midwood. Didn’t you?”
“Really, sweetheart, I don’t see how you come up with ideas like that. It’s really no big deal.”
His wife started backing out of the bathroom. She didn’t say anything, which was unlike her and was the worst thing she could do. She could make one phone call to the authorities and he could be in real trouble. She even threatened the security of the operation that was just now about to pay dividends. He couldn’t let that happen.
Katazin thought how easy it would be to walk her down to the car, pump a couple of bullets into her, and dump her body into the East River. But it was just a fantasy. He had considered it before.
When she turned and hustled into the bedroom, and appeared to be looking for her phone, the thought went from fantasy to serious consideration. He scooped up the Beretta and stuck it in his waistband, pulling his white undershirt over the grip of the pistol. He stood up slowly, testing the tightly wrapped ankle. It felt better than he’d thought it would, but now his ribs hurt from the way he’d slouched while working on the ankle.
When he stepped into the bedroom, his wife was slipping her phone into the pocket of the thick bathrobe. She slowly walked out of the bedroom saying, “I’m going to check on Irina.”
Katazin watched her step through the door and realized he had made tougher decisions already tonight.
When Derek Walsh awoke on the cot in the homeless shelter, he lay still for a moment while his eyes adjusted to the light. He saw the outline of two men, one on each end of his cot. A streetlight shone in through the one window in the room, casting an eerie shadow of the men onto the floor.
Walsh quietly reached under the cot to feel the handle of the Beretta he had wedged between some slats. He didn’t need it. He knew the two men were there to protect him. Charlie and the other five veterans were taking turns on watch to make sure no one surprised Walsh while he was sleeping. He had no doubt of the men’s integrity or honor. At least while they were sober. He understood the military fraternity and how seriously these men were taking their duty.
When this was over, Walsh recognized he had a duty he had been avoiding. He would find ways to help men like this all over the city. But first he was going to uncover the conspiracy, and for that he would need to contact Agent Tonya Stratford. As long as her partner didn’t kill him first, he felt he had a real shot at convincing her to help.
33
Major Bill Shepherd lay on the bed in his quarters on base, watching the sun spill into the room. He had purposely left the curtains open so that his body might get back on some sort of schedule regulated by sunrise and darkness. It was the first night he had gotten more than a few hours’ sleep in four days. His rested body, along with the anticipation of seeing Fannie at a restaurant not far from the base, put him in an excellent mood. Unless some emergency came up, he was free until at least two o’clock in the afternoon. Anything could happen in that length of time.
He was a little bit of a player, even though he prided himself on being honest with all the women he dated. Shepherd was also cautious. He didn’t want to be taken for a sap like Derek Walsh, who had fallen for a local girl who had somehow gotten hold of his official credit card and bought TVs and stereos for everyone she knew. Poor Derek was horrified and humiliated. Shepherd felt for his friend but wanted to learn from his example. He was vigilant with the women he met. He never kept anything other than his ID, one credit card, and some cash with him when they went out on the weekends. The clubs in Stuttgart liked the young American soldiers, who never hesitated to spend all of their pay on alcohol for the local women and beer for themselves.
He had to admit he was intrigued by Fannie’s good looks and demeanor. She was more mature than most of the women he dated even if she was the same age. So far, he had not made a move, but maybe the time would be right after brunch today.
He took his time getting out of bed and cleaning up. He wore new fatigues that were crisp and had sharp lines. Per a suggestion by the CO, he would carry an issued M-9 Beretta pistol. He intended to tuck it in his waistband with his fatigue shirt hanging over it. He didn’t like drawing attention to the fact that he was armed unless he was on a specific detail and wore a pistol in a holster on a web belt.
He walked by his office just to check in and let his aide know he was going off base. As he stepped in he looked at the startlingly young sergeant and said, “Anything cooking, Chip?”
“Not really, Major. All the reports of protests have died down across Germany. They’re leaving a twenty-four-hour police presence in front of the base for three more days. And no one is in sick bay with any illnesses or injuries.”
“Outstanding.”
The young redheaded man picked up one piece of paper and said, “NATO is monitoring some activity in Western Russia near Estonia. They believe it has to do with Russian military exercises. Satellites haven’t been able to bring up any new information, so they intend to do a fly-by in the next hour or so to get a closer look. Doesn’t sound like something we should worry about.”
“Chip, today is too beautiful to worry about anything. I need you to call up a car for me. And I’ll be off the base until after lunch.”