“Covered-you mean observed?” Nathan asked.
“Filmed, baby, and shown to the public.” Jackson patted the camera.
“You would do that for us?”
“Look, no offense, but you people are still in the stone age or something up here. Down south we got radio networks that span the continent and even go into New France, New Spain, and Brit Canada. We have a network of theater chains even more extensive, and the public is hungry for news and the unusual.
“The Russkies told us we could go anywhere we wanted in Russian America to shoot footage to entice people up here and spend money. But we didn’t know nothin’ about you people, or about any wars being fought.”
“Actually it’s just begun,” Nathan said with a smile. “You can make money somehow from all this, can’t you?”
Jackson grinned and spoke to Alf out of the corner of his mouth. “Start shooting, Alf. Jimmy, make sure you get sound levels on everything.” He stuck the wire mesh knob in front of Nathan’s face.
“This is a microphone, we can record your words with it.”
“Answer my question,” Nathan said.
“You must be a mind reader, mister. Yeah, we can make plenty off the rights to this stuff, even the Japanese will buy it.”
“Perhaps we should talk before you begin.”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed and he reached down and snapped a switch on the machine in the backpack.
“So talk.”
“We are not a rich people. It would be a good thing if you contributed a percentage of your profits to the Dena Separatist Movement. Sharing can open many doors.”
Jackson smiled. “Ain’t no moss growing on you, is there? Okay, how about fifteen percent?”
“Very generous, but twenty-five is the number I had in mind.”
“Done.”
“Make sure it tells the story we want people to hear.”
“No sweat, baby. Roll it, Jimmy. You focused there, Alf? Okay.” He held the microphone up again. “Just who are you people?”
“We are the Dena Army. For centuries our people have been exploited and oppressed by the Russians. As far as they are concerned, we are at the bottom of the social strata—”
“’Scuse me, but we got a war to fight,” Haimish said waspishly.
“Let’s go!” Jackson seemed delighted at the idea. “We can move and interview at the same time.”
Nik and Haimish, surrounded by half of Eleanor’s squad, ranged out ahead of the camera crew. The sun sank toward the early afternoon horizon and the temperature dropped with it. A few random gunshots echoed through the crisp air, shattering the crystalline stillness.
Two Dena holding Kalashnikovs emerged from the shadows at the main gate.
“We need the others, Hamish,” Jimmy Burton said. “We’ve got the operations bunker and the prison. They have everything else, including the armory.”
“How many ’ave we lost?”
“I don’t know the exact number. Heron’s over in the operations complex, I think he has numbers and names. Who are those guys?” He pointed to the camera crew that busily recorded their conversation.
“They’re movie people, telling the other North Amerikan countries about us.”
“Who are you people?” Burton asked.
“We’re harmless. Just pretend we’re not here,” Jackson said with a wink.
Burton shook his head and disappeared back into the shadows.
As they passed through the cell blocks, prisoners were being freed and herded into a large room where they could be briefed and offered positions in the DA. The camera crew slowed considerably in order to get shots of everything, including pools of blood and shattered buildings.
Nik hurried into the radio room, where a war of deception could still be won or lost. Six people crowded the room, removing bodies on litters. Half of the radio equipment lay in shards. Pockmarks from bullets cratered the walls and ceiling.
Two medics worked feverishly on someone whose face Nik couldn’t see. He walked around them to get a better view. Cora lay on the litter, blinking up at the ceiling, her lower lip trembling.
“Cora! Oh my God, Cora!” Nik knelt down beside her and caught the eye of a medic. The medic shook his head slightly and went back to work stanching the flow of blood from her wounds. “Oh my darling, what have you done?” he said gently.
“I’m, so, sorry.” She coughed up a large gobbet of red froth. Nik realized her lungs were destroyed and she was drowning in her own blood. “. .
I wanted, to be your, wife, but…”
The animation in her eyes froze into a glassy stare. The tears running down his cheeks surprised him for a moment before he began to sob.
Behind Nik, Benny Jackson tapped Alf Rosario on the shoulder.
“That’s enough, Alf, it’s a wrap.”
They left Nik to his grief.
36
Grisha pushed down harder on the accelerator. The increased speed caused the half-track to bounce even more, so he slowed again.
“We’ll get there, Grisha, don’t worry.” Malagni peered out the side window. The man filled the cab, adding to Grisha’s anxiety.
“Why don’t they send us a message?”
“We agreed not to break radio silence until after all the attacks began. The other Russian bases might be monitoring every wavelength. The longer we can keep them out of this, the better.”
“Six more kilometers,” Grisha said through clenched teeth. “At this speed I could outrun the whole column on foot.”
“We need every vehicle, every rifle, every bullet,” Malagni said. “We need every break we can get.”
Driving a half-track called for the same habits as piloting a boat. Grisha kept his eyes moving all the time, glancing from side to side, watching the rearview mirror, minding the ditches and keeping a keen eye as far ahead as possible. Diesel stench wafted through the firewall but he couldn’t roll down the window without subjecting his ears to frostbite. He noticed they were near the end of a long straightaway and then glanced in the mirror.
As if waiting for his attention, the sound of a plane passed overhead. He glanced up in time to see a Yak fighter flash by in the fading light. The aircraft waggled its wings and flew in a wide circle around them.
“Colonel Yuganin,” a voice rasped from the radio. “This is Talon Six. Chena Redoubt is under attack. Tetlin has lost radio contact with them. Over.”
Malagni picked up the microphone. “We are advancing at top speed. Are there more aircraft to assist us?”
“No. Only three other aircraft exist in this sector. Four other redoubts are also under attack. The other three Yaks have gone north to hit Tanana Redoubt. We believe our garrison there has been nullified.”
“And the other battles?” Malagni tried to put disbelief into his voice.
“In question,” the pilot said. “Are you going to attack now?”
“Yes!” Malagni said. He dropped the microphone, pushed the roof hatch open and pulled on the mottled Russian parka next to him.
“Do you want me to stop?” Grisha asked.
“No, this won’t take long.” Malagni stood up behind the twin 9mm machine guns mounted above the cab roof.
