But the motorcycle was very fast. There had been no room for it in the third garage where his car was kept and so he had left it in the first garage. He mentally scourged him-self for the laxness.
All about him was rubble, the terraced mezzanines which formed connecting bridges from one side of the mountain to the other in this section of the Womb complex were destroyed. More than one hundred and fifty of his men were dead or critically injured.
Their goals would be twofold—to destroy the cryogenics equipment, perhaps to steal some of it for themselves. And to destroy the particle beam weapons atop the mountain.
“Revnik!”
Rozhdestvenskiy turned around, calling to his aide.
“Yes, Comrade Colonel?”
“Revnik. You will finish your duties here as quickly as possible, then take one hundred men to the access corridor leading to the particle beam installations atop the moun-tain. I estimate that the force will split into two groups—of necessity if nothing else. Your force will anticipate this, lie in wait and when a portion of the invasion group makes their way to the particle beam weapons, you will counter them, destroy them. I will personally command the motor-cycle detachment and the assault vans, to cut them off at the cryogenics laboratory. They cannot be more than five min-utes ahead of us and I can take my force by the most direct route. Do not hesitate to call up reinforcements should they be required. I want all but the American doctor and Major Tiemerovna dead. If there is any way, these two individuals should you encounter them are to be brought to me.”
Revnik saluted. “Yes, Comrade Major.”
“Yes,” Rozhdestvenskiy nodded.
He began to walk toward the third garage, the doorway nearly moved aside now, reaching it, picking his way over the rubble beside the door, over the remains of bodies blown to bits and pieces.
But his car was perfect. He stared at it a moment.
He had had the country scoured for one that was both intact and had all of the equipment he needed. The Pontiac Firebird Trans-Am black, the interior black as well. Rather than the standard engine, the 308 cubic inch V-8 had the high output option, giving it 190 horsepower. Five speed transmission. He had found the best mechanic in the Womb and had the engine modified for even greater speed. Be-cause of that, fuel economy was nil, but the Firebird would hit 150 miles per hour and stay there if it had to. There were two sets of keys for it, one locked in the wall safe in his of-fice. The other in his hand now as he approached it. The suspension had been built up. The car was not armored, but the original equipment glass had been replaced by bullet re-sistant glass, dark tinted, nearly matching the black body of the car.
He opened the door, climbing into the cockpit, strapping himself in with the lap and shoulder restraint. He placed the key in the ignition, working the combination lock so he could start the machine. He turned the key—the engine roared to life ahead of him, around him. A case rested on the seat next to him—he opened it. Inside was the Uzi sub-machinegun, with it in neat compartments cut into the styrofoam were four thirty-two round magazines.
He depressed the top round in each of the magazines, get-ting the feel for the spring pressure.
It seemed adequate. He flicked on the radio hitting the PA switch. “This is Rozhdestvenskiy. I wish the twelve members of the motorcycle force to ride before me in a wedge, two man center, fifty yards ahead. I wish the four assault vans to follow behind me—two abreast. We shall follow the most direct route to the cryogenics laboratory. In the event that we should encounter the doctor or Major Tiemerovna, they are to be taken alive if at all possible so that I may deal with them personally. Rourke doubtlessly is riding my motorcycle—he has a passion for these machines. If my motorcycle must be destroyed in order to apprehend or kill him, it is of no concern. I shall advise you of my or-ders via the public address system. Move out in sixty sec-onds—from now.”
He set down the microphone, closing the driver’s side door, locking it, revving the huge V-8, the stick in neutral.
One by one, twelve of his Elite KGB Force mounted their specially selected, specially tuned Honda Gold Wings. In the rearview mirror, he could see the vans filling with their personnel, the roof panels opening, the RPK light machine-guns being elevated into position.
The bikes were starting.
He stomped the heavy duty clutch and slipped into first gear, deactivating the parking brake, feeding gasoline to the machine.
He glanced to his watch.
Forty-five seconds. All his men were mounted. “We shall take the left outside the garage and then the first right into the main traffic corridor. Maintain constant speed of fifty miles per hour until further notice.” The sweep second hand of the Gold Rolex President reached the twelve.
“Move out!”
The bikes, two by two left the garage, the rumble of the machines almost deafening, the sound of his own mighty engine almost lost. He made the left, the wedge of one dozen KGB bikers ahead of him forming, his speedometer needle to fifty, staying there.
He always considered himself to have a flair for the dra-matic, noting it as the four assault vans turned out of the garage and closed behind him into the formation. He reached across to the glove compartment and took from it a cassette tape, punching it into the deck, flipping the switch for the PA interlock so the tape would play out through the PA system yet he could cut it off when he spoke to issue commands.
The song the tape began to play was the Soviet national anthem.
Chapter Forty-eight
They had finished mining the last of the electric golf carts. According to the information Natalia’s uncle had provided, they were at the terminus of the underground and aboveground passageways. They had encountered resist-ance along the way but had been able to shoot their way past.
Nine of Reed’s men survived along with Reed. Ten of Vla-dov’s men.
Rourke, Natalia beside him, stood overlooking Natalia and Vladov’s handiwork with the last of the golf carts.
Reed spoke. “If this is the terminus between the cryogen-ics lab and the particle beam installation, then this is where we part company, Rourke. We’re runnin’ out of time. All this creep Rozhdestvenskiy has to do is get lucky and inter-cept us in one of the passageways with a vastly superior force and we’re goners. I’m taking my men up top to knock out the particle beam weapons.”
“My assigned task, I believe,” Vladov said, “is the de-struction of the cryogenics laboratory.”
“If either group is successful,” Natalia began, “The KGB master plan will be severely damaged.”
“If both groups are successful, we’ll knock ‘em out of the box,” Rourke nodded. “All right, we split up. Natalia and I are heading for the cryogenics lab—if somehow I can get some of those cryogenic chambers and enough of the se-rum, well—maybe there’s a chance for my family to survive this. I’ll give you the location of the Retreat, Reed—you can—”
“I’m never getting out of here alive. I walked in here knowing that. I think Captain Vladov feels the same way. The more of these KGB assholes we kill, well, the bigger the smile on my face when the bullet finds me.”
“My sentiments as well, Colonel,” Vladov smiled.
“You can’t say that,” Rourke told Reed. “You might make it out—”
“I’d head back for Texas if I did. KGB units and Army units under their control should be pounding hell out of our boys right now.”
“And I,” Vladov smiled. “Someone must stay behind to destroy all that is in here, so that if some of mankind does survive, no one will be able to use this place and the material here to establish himself as a dictator. No, once the primary mission is finished, we shall continue to sabotage all that can be destroyed here in the Womb.”
Rourke extended his hand to Reed. “I won’t lie and say I’ve enjoyed knowing you, but I respect you. Good luck, and God bless you, too.” Reed took his hand, nodding, say-ing nothing.
Vladov extended his hand to Reed. “Colonel, I think at least we are fully allies.”
Reed’s eyes flickered, and then he released Rourke’s hand and took Vladov’s. “Captain, my sincerest respect to you, to Lieutenant Daszrozinski, your men. Godspeed, Cap-tain.”
“And to you, Colonel.” Vladov took a step back and sa-luted. Reed hesitated, then drew himself up and
