Russian could-for he had enough people-pull an end-around their flanks and come up from behind, putting them all in a box with no exit.
But Ben knew the free forces had to do something. The time for waiting was over.
“Juan, you know how I feel. Whatever you and Mark decide is OK with me.”
“We’ve got to talk, Ben. Nose to nose.”
“To keep Al happy, let’s meet in South Carolina. You fly in here and we’ll fly east together.”
“Done. When?”
“Next week. How about … Friday, August second?”
“I’ll see you then, compadre.”
“Tri-States, out.”
Ben turned to Ike. “Feel like traveling?”
The ex-Navy SEAL nodded. “We’ve got to do something, El Presidente, even if it means running the risk of destroying everything we’re attempting to build. My wife says she’s sick and tired of me pacing the floor at night. And Gale says you’re getting hard to live with.”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “I keep remembering pictures I saw of Dachau and Auschwitz and Buchenwald.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen those same pictures. And it’s going to come to that, isn’t it, Ben?”
“If it hasn’t already and we just don’t know about it.”
“I thought about that, too.”
“The survivors are telling us that Striganov and Hartline have instituted a new program of I.d. papers. Person doesn’t have papers is in serious trouble.”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, I heard that, too. How about the young people who returned?”
“You were close on that, Ben. Close enough to scare me. “Bout sixty-five percent made it back. But those who died saved the lives of several thousand.”
“I wonder how many died hard?”
Ike shrugged. “And how many just quit.”
Again, Ben nodded. “Denise?”
“She made it out. She’s all right. Reminds you of Jerre, don’t she?”
“In a way.” Ben stood up, stretched. “What is the mood of the people?”
“Ready to go, Ben.”
“They understand this could destroy everything we
have managed to build?”
“Yes.”
“They understand we are going to take heavy losses?”
“Yes. But they love freedom that much, Ben. They know Striganov has to be stopped-whatever the cost. And you know every man, woman and child in this area would follow you up to and through the gates of hell.”
Ben did not have to be reminded of that. He sometimes had to fight to push it from his mind. “I’ll leave logistics to you, Ike. Whatever you’re doing, drop it. I want a complete rundown on equipment: tanks, APC’S, howitzers, weapons, ammo-the whole bag, Ike, from pencils to panties.”
Ike waggled his eyebrows. “Do I get to inspect the latter on the hoof?”
“How would you like me to call Sally and tell her what you said?”
“Lord deliver me from that!”
“You get in touch with Juan and Mark, have them do the same with their equipment. I’ll get Colonel Gray to wind up training. It’s too late now if the new people didn’t learn the first time. I’ll get with Cec, find out how many people we’re going to have to leave behind as a rear guard. I hate to do it, but we’re going to have to leave the older ones behind to shore up our rear.”
“They’ll handle it, Ben.”
“I know it. I just hate to ask them to do it.” He sighed heavily. “Looks like we drop the plows and pick up the guns-again.”
“It has to be, Ben.”
“Maybe after this, we can all settle down and try to pull together.”
Ike nodded his head but looked dubious. “It’s a nice thought, Ben.”
CHAPTER NINE
Hartline hurt her every time she was chosen to be his woman for the night, but it was a hurt curiously mixed with pleasure. She hated herself when she began to respond to him. And she fought her responsiveness until it broke like a dam within her. She knew she had to win his trust and his confidence, but nevertheless, her pleasure made her feel like a whore.
She knew she was small; nothing could change that. And Sam Hartline was built like a bull in the sex department. She thought those men were only found in porn movies. He groaned and cursed and had to force his way inside her. And she hated herself for loving it. Even when she became wet and willing, he still complimented her on what a nice, tight pussy she had.
First nigger he’d ever kissed, too, he had informed her.
He had, at first, been angry when in the heat of passion Peggy had pulled his mouth to hers and slipped her tongue between his lips. He had pulled back and almost out of her. She thought for a moment he was
going to hit her. Then he had looked at her, in the soft light from the night stand and smiled.
Supporting his weight on his elbows, he asked, “How much white you got in you, honey?”
The question was not new to her, having been asked by both white and black men and women many times in her life. “None.”
“Bullshit,” Hartline said. “You ain’t full nigger, baby. No way. I figure you’re about half white. At least a third. Your mammy must have done some stepping over the back fence a time or two.” He grinned at her.
“I rather doubt it,” she replied, an edge to her voice. Her parents had both been professional people, very religious and believing strongly in the bonds of marriage. Her husband had likewise been a good person. They had been married only four months before he was gunned down by the IPF.
Hartline laughed. “Tell me how you love this cock of mine, baby.”
It was a game they played. Hartline was proud of his manhood, and liked to be reminded how much man he was.
She told him, profanely and lewdly, the words ugly on her tongue, but nevertheless containing more than a modicum of truth.
“Well, good,” Hartline said, a strange glow to his eyes.
Then he brutally shoved himself deep within her.
Peggy screamed in shock and pain.
Hartline ravaged her, with no feeling, no compassion in him, merely taking her as an animal might.
He wiped himself clean with a pillowcase and then
tossed it on the bed beside the sobbing woman. There had been no pleasure for Peggy this night.
Hartline said, “For a jigaboo, you got the tightest cunt I ever seen. You must not have done much fucking around as a kid. I thought all you niggers started fucking when you were about ten.”
Peggy refused to answer.
“Well, since the cat’s got your tongue, I got an idea. Next time you can suck me off.”
Then he proceeded to tell her, in the most profane and ugly manner possible, what would happen to her if she bit him. His voice and harsh, ugly words made her sick to her stomach.
But she had absolutely no doubts as to his sincerity.
All that had been weeks ago. Now, Sam visited Peggy more than any other woman in his stable. He seemed loose and relaxed around her, even kind to her at times, in his own peculiar manner. She acted as a docile servant, completely devoted to Sam’s every whim and need. And Sam talked a bit more each time he came to her; whatever he said, Peggy reported back to Lois, and Lois to the underground.
On this night, just moments before Hartline was due to arrive at Peggy’s small home, provided for her by Hartline, Lois had sent word that Ben Raines was gathering his forces to march against the IPF, along with Juan Solis from the Southwest, and Al Maiden’s black troops from the Southeast. Peggy was to find out how much Hartline knew about the upcoming invasion.
