Raines was dead. And the scouts he had sent out a week ago should be returning with the confirmation of that suspicion any hour.
The trail-worn Russian scouts of the IPF returned and gave their general the bad news.
“General Ben Raines is alive and doing quite well,” they told Striganov. “He is massing troops in the old Tri- States.”
Striganov did not have to have a picture drawn for him to know what that meant.
“How many troops?”
“At least two battalions. Some are airborne. We believe more men and machines are coming shortly.”
Striganov dismissed his people. He again looked toward the east.
“So, General Raines,” he muttered. “We shall once more clash. But this time there will be no gentleman’s agreement about fairness and the code of honor among fighting men. So be it. One of us will know total victory this time. And one of us will know the taste of death.”
Chapter 43
Ben had ordered two more battalions of Rebels to be readied and sent westward. He was planning to move against Hartline and the Russian on the sixth of June. Already he had sent teams of Scouts out to reconnoiter the Russian’s position, and first reports indicated the Russian’s position was a strong one.
Cecil was furious about being left behind, and Ben knew that someway, somehow, Cecil would figure out a way to get into the fight. Ben smiled. He didn’t blame him. He would have done the same thing.
Ben had ordered his people out into the countryside, on the off chance that Striganov might launch a first strike and catch them all bunched up.
Ben turned cold eyes toward the west. He was not aware of it, but he was smiling that wolfs smile.
“This time, Hartline, I’m going to kill you. This time, General Striganov, I will wipe your lousy IPF from the face of the earth. And I will return Rani to me. You’re too smart to have harmed her. I’m coming to get you, Rani.”
The sighing winds seemed to ask if that was a promise.
“That’s a promise,” Ben said.
