jerk he pulled the heavy wooden door open creating a minus-thirty-degrees Celsius gust of wind.
Two Special Unit Cossacks stared balefully in at him. He pulled up short, concentrated on the extreme cold, let it burn at the scar on his face to clear his head. They both towered over him.
“We must go immediately to headquarters and you must be with us,” the biggest and ugliest one said.
“I get my coat.” Crepov pulled his parka off its peg. He knew when to walk with the wind.
Katti shivered behind the door, ready to shut it as soon as possible. Most of the warmth in the single room had vanished along with his drunkenness. He hurried out, pushed between them, and strode rapidly toward the operations building.
The cold robbed him of anger. By the time he stormed past the sentry he had decided to first listen to the colonel before telling him to put this job sideways up his anus. He stiff-armed the office door open and jerked to a stop.
Valari wore the insignia of a major and the corporal had a third stripe. No good, he reflected, the man will always be a corporal.
The two flanked the colonel, who glowered from behind his desk.
“Good of you to come out on a night like this, Bear,” he said with no hint of sarcasm. “We need your special skills.”
Crepov saw the man’s eyes flick over his scar before recapturing his gaze. He let himself glance at the other two. Nobody smiled in condescension tonight. He realized they didn’t want him here anymore than he wanted to be there. His interest flared.
“For what?”
“Something happened at Chena Redoubt. We need you to go take a look.”
“Why don’t you send one of your wonderful helicopters?”
“Do you refuse to go?” Valari asked softly, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head.
Her manner reminded Crepov of an attack dog anticipating trouble. In a rare flash of insight, he realized how well she fit that description. She was just more dangerous than other bitches.
“I need as much information as possible to make judgment,” Bear said flatly.
“We cannot put an aircraft closer than a kilometer to Chena Redoubt,” the colonel said tiredly. “They get shot down.”
“What!” Bear’s brain reeled with implications. “Chena Redoubt is not under the control of the Imperial Army?”
“Nor is Tanana Redoubt. Bridge Redoubt is under heavy attack and the
“It must be mutiny, a very large mutiny,” Bear muttered, more to himself than to anyone else in the room. “The Indians aren’t organized enough to pull off something this big.” He regarded the three of them thoughtfully.
“You can get me within two kilometers, can’t you?” He added a smile for the pure spite of it.
“Of course we can.” The colonel wouldn’t rise to the bait. Crepov finally noticed the purple pouches under the man’s eyes. “Can you leave immediately?”
“Yes. Within the hour.”
“Would you like company?” Valari asked neutrally.
“You would be welcome,” he said slowly. “But only if you left your pet corporal here.”
“I’m a sergeant,” the man said through clenched teeth.
Crepov gave him an amused look. “Your arm says that. But we know differently, don’t we?” He turned and hurried back into the night.
Maybe he would find Grigoriy Grigorievich at Chena Redoubt. That would make it all worthwhile.
He grinned fiercely as the cold burned at his scar.
38
Grisha huddled in the corner, nearly asleep, listening to the everlengthening interview.
“So this is a civil war?” Jackson asked Chan.
“No. We have never been part of Russian society, we have always been a subjugated people.” The old man’s eyes twinkled. “This is a revolution, we are finally striking back at a power which has oppressed us for centuries.”
“Can you rig me a patch, Jimmy?” Jackson asked his technician.
“Ain’t no way we’re gonna get a radio signal out of here,” Scanlon said.
“Only one way to find out, Jimmy, baby. And that’s to try it.”
“What is it that you wish to do?” Chan asked.
“Hook into our network down in California.”
“Network,” Haimish said. “You can communicate with California from here?”
“Let ya know in a few minutes,” Jimmy said.
“Can you patch us through to the U.S.?” Haimish asked.
Jackson studied Haimish with an air of assessment.
“It might not be impossible,” he said slowly. “But what’s in it for us?”
“A place in history as a participant rather than a bystander.”
“I need someone to help me,” Jimmy said.
“The Russians have the technology to pick up any transmissions we make,” Jackson said. “I sure as hell don’t want to start any diplomatic hassles between them and the Republic of California just yet.”
“I’ll help you, Jimmy,” Grisha said, pulling himself to his feet.
“Every time I drop off to sleep I start having dreams.”
“So you’re just up here to make a few bucks and that’s it?” Haimish said with barely concealed contempt. “Open up a new market and cash in?”
“And what the fuck are you doing here, Yank?” Jackson spat. “Founding an orphanage?”
“We need to put this on the roof, man,” Jimmy said. “How do we get up there?”
Grisha picked up his parka and shrugged into it. “This way, I think.”
“I’m a military advisor,” Hamish said flatly.
“From the U.S.?” Jackson asked quickly.
“Does it matter?”
“If I’m putting my ass on the line, it does.”
Grisha hesitated at the door, feeling the tension in the room.
“I’m a colonel in the United States Army.” Haimish’s voice carried urgency. “This situation has moved much faster than our intelligence people anticipated. If I don’t get through to my superiors I’m afraid the Russians are going to flatten this place and smash the movement before it gets its wind.”
“Get the antenna set up, Jimmy,” Jackson said through a grin, “while I talk turkey with the colonel.”
“C’mon, man,” Jimmy said tiredly to Grisha. “I want to get some sleep tonight.”
The cold stabbed through his parka and Grisha realized he was more weary than he thought. He held parts together while Jimmy clumsily fastened bolts without taking off his heavy mittens. At this temperature warm skin would be instantly frozen by metal.
“You guys are more than you’re saying, aren’t you?” Grisha said casually.
“Isn’t everybody?” Jimmy said with a snort. “Hand me that wrench.”
As he pondered the man’s words, Grisha became aware of a pulsing in his ears.
“Helicopter!”
Jimmy lifted his head sharply and listened. “Yeah. About two klicks away, wouldn’t you say?”
“But just one.” Grisha frowned up at the brittle stars. “Why would they have just one helicopter up this time of night?”
