“I hadn’t forgotten, Captain Flars. It seems this gentleman has an offer for the major, and I hope to sweet baby Jesus that he takes it, ’cause there’s no tellin’ what a another missed payday might bring, sir.” With an exaggerated salute, the corporal turned and marched away. N’go followed him, chuckling and glancing back over his shoulder.
“I know you, yes?” Captain Flars said.
“I was here two weeks ago. I need to see the major, my boss wants to hire you fellows.”
“Excited I am to hear this. Please enter in.”
“Well, if it isn’t our old friend, Georg!” Major Riordan stood and offered his hand.
He measured a few inches shorter than Hepner, but Georg thought none the less of him for that; Napoleon had been a lot shorter than either of them.
“What brings you out here beyond the pale?” He grinned and moved his lean body about as if he were on euphorics. “Missed my brilliant conversation and insights, did you?”
“Not as much as you would imagine. I bring you an offer from Kurt Bachmann. He wants to hire you and your men.”
“For how long?” Riordan stood very still and stared at Hepner with the aspect of a very hungry lion.
“He said three months.”
“Did he send money with you, to seal the bargain?”
“Do you want his offer in rubles or dollars?”
“Dollars, preferably California or Texas dollars.”
“He offers three hundred forty-five California dollars per day, for three months.”
“Shit on my grave, why don’t you? That’s less than five dollars an hour for each of us!”
“Take it or leave it.”
“What does he want us to do?”
“Fight Indians, the Dená, I think. But he wants you and your men at Klahotsa.”
“That’s bloody days away!”
“You start getting paid today if you agree.”
“I need an advance to show the men we’re not getting rogered yet again.”
“Then you agree?”
“Yes, I bloody well agree!”
“Then sign this,” Hepner pulled a folded page from his pocket and handed it to the major, “and I’ll give you a thousand California on the spot.”
“If you have that much on you, why would I not just kill you and take the money?”
“Because you would forfeit so much more for very little effort.”
“How do we get to Klahotsa?”
“There’s a road they call the RustyCan—”
“Don’t be impertinent! You know there are Russians everywhere, you can’t just glide through them like it’s some bloody dance with an ‘excuse me’ here and an ‘excuse me’ there.”
“You’re an ally. You’re fighting the Dená just as they are. Bachmann said you’d figure out something. Are you going to sign or do I need to look for professional soldiers elsewhere?”
Riordan glared at him, then down at the contract.
“Where do I sign?”
64
“Please state your name and rank for the members of this tribunal,” the white—haired man in the gray uniform said.
“Colonel Grigoriy Grigorievich, Southern Army Commander of the Dená Republik.”
“I object.” A Cossack major general stood and stared at Grisha. “This man is in rebellion against his legitimate government and claims fealty to a political entity which does not in fact exist.”
“So noted, suh,” the old man said frostily. “But we will hear him just the same.”
“I made my objection for the record, at the wishes of my government, nothing more,” the Cossack said.
“Colonel Grigorievich,” the old man said, “I am General Carter of the Confederate States Army. The other delegates elected me president of this tribunal—” his eyes flicked over the two Russians at the other end of the table, “—but I wish to assure you the vote was not unanimous.”
Grisha surreptitiously surveyed the men behind the long table. Another man in gray sat beside General Carter. Next to them were two men in tan British uniforms flanked by another pair wearing the now familiar khaki of the Republic of California.
He decided the men in black were from Deseret and the two in pale blue from Texas. Kepis lay on the table in front of both New France officers and their deep blue, red-faced uniforms easily captured the prize for most ostentatious. However, he had noticed that New Spain’s officers wore highly polished, knee-length jackboots which gave them the most sinister air.
The United States had sent a gimlet-eyed admiral and a cadaverous general as their representatives. Even to Grisha’s untutored eye, they seemed very chummy with the Russians next to them.
A tall, broad-faced man wearing a three-piece-suit and two long braids wrapped in ermine sat staring fixedly at him. Next to the tall man sat a stocky, dark-eyed man with a proud face and a prominent hooked nose. He was dressed in starched camouflaged dungarees adorned with a silver bison’s head on each shoulder. The First People’s Nation delegation, Grisha decided.
No representative from the Dená Republik was present.
Twenty judges. He suddenly realized the Confederate general hadn’t finished addressing him.
“…by our governments to ascertain if you are a war criminal or have led others in your organization to perpetuate atrocities on your enemies.” General Carter paused for a long moment, his eyes never leaving Grisha’s face.
“These are very serious charges, Colonel, and I must tell you frankly that more hinges on your answers than just your reputation among North American nations.”
Grisha nodded. “I appreciate your advice, General Carter, and I thank you for it. I am here of my own volition, even though I have troops in the field under my command who expect a counter-attack at any moment.” He gave the Russians a hard look before returning his gaze to the general.
“Neither I, nor any of the people fighting for the liberation of the Dená Republik, have committed any atrocities or other actions that could be determined criminal under conditions of war. I would like to make this appearance as brief as possible in order to return to my command.”
“Your concern is well taken, sir,” General Carter said softly.
“However, the charge against you is of a grievous nature and must be dealt with before our governments will return to the conference table to help chart the future of your nation’s political aspirations.”
“Under the rules of the tribunal,” Grisha said quickly, “am I allowed to call in witnesses of my own?”
“Certainly, suh. This is not a kangaroo court.”
“Then I request that Colonel Benny Jackson be summoned to speak to this gathering.”
“Under what flag does Colonel Jackson serve?”
“The Republic of California.”
General Carter nodded to a Confederate captain standing by the door and the man hurried away. “Do you have any other requests, colonel?”
“I’d like to know why there are no representatives from the Dená
Republik at this hear—uh, tribunal.”
“They were invited to attend but they declined. Ambassador Adams said that you were quite able to handle anything we could throw at you.”
Grisha felt a shadow flit across his mind, leaving Wing’s sacrifice and Chief Andrew’s scapegoat resonating in his memory.
“I’m sure the ambassador is correct, General,” Grisha said, surprised that his suddenly dry throat could produce words. “Please continue.”
“You are charged with exposing a naked prisoner of war to subzero cold,” General Carter said succinctly. “Is this true?”
“No. I was asleep when Major Kominskiya was expelled from our shelter.”