perfect. Do you see them?'
She pressed her headset against her ears and nodded.
'Halo copies.'
Behind Milosz, Wilson raised his voice again.
'Listen, I am the world's most grateful motherfucker that you happened along and pulled our nuts outta the fire,' he said. 'But you can't be tear-assing around the AOR on your private business with all of this shit flying around. Have you looked out the fucking window the last few minutes? Huh? We got us Apocalypse fucking Now out there, people. Top-shelf fucking ordnance getting uncorked today. Star Wars shit. Hell, they gonna be firing up the fucking Deathstar and just zapping this whole fucking island to ashes before we're done, believe it. And you want to go back out into it? You are going to get yourselves killed. And since I owe you for me and my people not getting killed, I have to say no, and furthermore, Hell No. When resupply flies in on the roof, you are flying the fuck outta here.'
Wilson had worked himself up into such a state that Milosz was actually drawn away from the spectacular bonfire down in the streets that had exploded behind the master sergeant at the end of his rant, lighting the room up considerably. Gardener was all over that detail, anyway. The man and woman-what did they call themselves, Hippo and June?-seemed relaxed and even amused by Wilson's rant. But then, they were the only ones with loaded weapons in the room, and it was clear they wouldn't be giving them up. Plus, Milosz thought, to wear such a stupid helmet with such large cow horns poking out, the hippo man was very obviously an individual who took his amusement where he could find it. He searched his memory for a literary character he might compare this hippo to-an old trick for passing the time and for fixing in his memory the details of books he wanted to remember. But nothing came. Watching them and their utter imperturbability-another Fitzgerald word-Milosz just knew there would be no getting these two evacuated anytime soon. Or ever. They were happy to stay and watch over the Americans until they were resupplied-the hippo, who looked like a former soldier of sorts, as well as a Disneyland Visigoth, had promised them that. But that was the only promise they had extracted from the pair.
'Hey, Wilson,' he said in an easygoing, reasonable tone, 'what does it matter what the lady and the hippo do? If they get killed, who will blame us? It is not as if they are supposed to be here. I don't suppose anyone but this Rubin they speak of even knows they are still in the city, no?' He tilted his head at them, looking for confirmation.
'It's Rhino, son. Rhino A. Ross,' said the man he had mistaken for a hippo. Advancing on Milosz, the giant engulfed his right hand and pumped it three times. 'Chief petty officer, United States Coast Guard, in my glorious youth,' he continued. 'At your service. And you make a good point, son. You're obviously a worldly and educated man. And Polish, too, if I am not mistaken. I served with a Pole once. Bochenski his name was. A marine engineer but a polymath of the first order. Had a gifted amateur's interest in fifteenth-century Florence, which is by the bye, but of immediate and critical relevance is the very point you just made, sir. Nobody is going to care about us except our employer, and I can assure you his interest in our well-being extends only so far as his self-interest allows. In the event of misfortune, we will be quickly replaced and forgotten. No reason, then, we shouldn't be on our way once you're able to see to your own defense again.'
Milosz took his hand back with a rueful grimace. The Rhino probably had not crushed it nearly as much as he could have.
'Wilson,' he said, 'I think we should not be too hasty with the bum's rushing of these two back to rear echelon, no?'
The master sergeant's face clouded over with suspicion. 'And why not, Fred? It's bad enough we're going to have to fess up about how they saved our asses. If we let them wander off after that, we're toast whether they make it back or not.'
'Not if they simply disappear and we never report them,' Milosz said.
The English woman suddenly tensed. 'Nobody's disappearing us,' she protested, leveling her weapon in their direction.
'Easy,' Wilson said. 'Be cool, lady.'
Milosz endured a second's confusion before understanding suddenly dawned. 'No, no,' he said quickly, wondering what he would disappear them with if he were so inclined. The only person with any firepower was Gardener, and calling in an air strike on their position was not logical. 'I do not imply that we will make you disappear. Just that we will let you disappear. On one condition.'
The Viking rhinoceros subtly shifted his grip on the P90, causing the barrel of the weapon to point a bit more in the general direction of Wilson and Milosz.
'What sort of condition?' he asked.
'I believe the American phrase is 'a piece of the action,'' Milosz said, pleased with himself for remembering that vernacular expression.
'Oh, fuck me, Fred. We don't need this George Clooney bullshit,' protested Wilson.
'No. You wait on a moment,' Milosz said. 'I do not know this Clooney character. Perhaps he is your friend, but just think about this. You were nearly killed by pirate asswits last night, and for what? Not even for a lousy paycheck you can depend on. A hundred and forty new bucks that may not be paid you if we even make it back to battalion. Please to forgive my presumption, Rhino A. Ross and, sorry… English Lady Baldwin?'
'Balwyn.'
'My apologies. But I presume you are to be paid much more than one hundred and forty newbies, yes? So if we were to help you toward completion of project, we too might be paid by this oil man Rubin, no?'
'I can't believe this,' Wilson said, shaking his head.
The Rhino pursed his lips and shrugged. 'I suppose so,' he said. 'If we had Rubin's papers, it wouldn't be hard to get you a cut… a small cut,' he added. 'But a hell of a lot better than a hundred forty newbies, yeah.'
'I would like equity,' Milosz said.
The English woman snorted, but more in amusement than dismissal.
'Listen, if we have Rubin's paper, he would negotiate,' she said. 'But it would take more than just letting us walk out of here. We could do that right now.'
She hefted her gun to remind him. Even disabled by some sort of wound to one arm, she looked more than capable of using it.
'If you want a cut, you need to get us closer to his apartment,' she said.
'Jesus Christ,' Wilson said, dropping his Kevlar helmet to the ground.
'No. Jesus Christ of no use in this situation. But Fryderyk Milosz and Master Sergeant Wilson of U.S. Army Rangers very useful. Oh, and Technical Sergeant Gardener, too. She most useful of all.'
'Just shut up and take the deal, Sarge. I didn't get paid at all last month,' Gardener shouted from her couch before pressing her headset. 'This is Halo. Talon, give me two more of the same on the original target, do you copy?'
Julianne jumped out of the cabin of the helicopter and fought the rotor wash trying to sweep her off the roof. She stayed bent over as she ran forward, clutching the straps of her backpack lest it be ripped away by the furious downblast. She turned and crouched beside an air-conditioning unit and was almost bowled over by the Rhino, who was right on her heels. The dark green chopper snarled even more ferociously as the pilot fed power into the engines and lifted off again. Her dirty, unwashed fringe whipped stinging strands of hair into her eyes, but she watched and waved them off, anyway. The Polish soldier, Milosz, stood in the doorway, grinning hugely. With one hand holding a grab bar, he laid the tips of two fingers under his eyes and then pointed directly at her.
I'll be watching you.
I'll bet you will, Fred, she thought. I'll just bet you will.
The Blackhawk leaned over and dropped away below the roofline. Within a minute it had disappeared completely, flying back toward the enormous column of black smoke rising high into the sky above the southern end of the island. It was nearly a mile across at the base and shot through with great tongues of fire and the flashes of exploding bombs, looking for all the world as though a volcano had erupted in Lower Manhattan.
'Well, I must say, I would not have imagined that helping people could turn out to be so fulfilling,' Jules said. 'And to think my father warned me off it for life.'
The Rhino lit up a cigar and took a few puffs with evident satisfaction.
'Damn, that feels good. You know, I had but a few goals in life, Miss Jules. To own my own boat and run
