The convoy pulled out the next morning, rolling northward. They halted at the junction of Highways 63 and 6 while a team was sent into Grinnell College to inspect.
Ben stood beside Gale, both of them leaning against the fender of the pickup. They heard the plane coming and looked up at the twin-engine prop job as it dipped lower, coming out of the north.
“It’s unarmed, General!” a spotter called, viewing the plane through binoculars. “But its markings show it’s an IPF aircraft.”
“Stand easy,” Ben told his people.
Paper fluttered through the air as the plane did a slow fly-by. The pilot waggled his wings, banked to the north, and was gone before the bits of paper had fallen to the earth.
Gale snagged one of the falling leaflets and handed it to Ben. After she read it. Ben waited patiently.
TO: PRESIDENT-GENERAL BEN RAINES FROM: GENERAL GEORGI STRIGANOV MY DEAR MR. RAINES: I AM WAITING IN WATERLOO TO MEET WITH Y. I WILL MEET YOU ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE CITY, SOUTH SIDE, AT THE CITY LIMITS SIGN. IF YOU WISH, COME ARMED. I WILL NOT BE ARMED AND NEITHER WILL ANY OF MY P. LOOKING FORWARD TO MEETING WITH YOU AND SHARING SOME INTELLIGENT CONVERSATION.
GEORGI
“I wouldn’t trust a goddamn Russian any further than I could spit,” a Rebel said.
Colonel Gray smiled, anticipating Ben’s reply. He was not disappointed.
“I think that probably has a great deal to do with the shape of the world at the present time,” Ben said. “But the Russians never inspired a great deal of confidence in me, either. Colonel Gray?”
“Sir?”
“Take a team and reconnoiter the situation. Do not fire unless you are fired upon. If you meet with any of General Striganov’s people, set up day after tomorrow for the meeting and report back to me immediately.”
“Sir.” The Englishman saluted and called for three other Rebels to join him. They left within five minutes in two Jeeps.
“Corporal.” Ben looked at the radio operator. “Get on the horn and have Colonel McGowen get his people up and moving. I don’t want to risk a night landing using vehicle headlights, so tell him to use the airstrip just outside of town and I’ll expect him no later than 1200 hours tomorrow. I’ll be waiting.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismount and make camp,” Ben hollered.
“You are?” Colonel Gray asked the uniformed young man.
“Lieutenant Stolski, sir, IPF.”
“Nice old Welsh name,” Dan muttered under his breath. “Well, Lieutenant, are we going to be civilized about this, or do we draw a line with the toe of a boot and dare each other to step over it?”
The young IPF officer laughed and stuck out his hand. “I have some excellent tea in my quarters, sir. Would you join me for a cup?”
Dan shook the offered hand. “Delighted, son.”
The four old, prop-driven planes were airborne within an hour after receiving Ben’s orders. The planes were old, but in excellent mechanical condition, the motors rebuilt from the ground up. The four planes carried two full companies of hand-picked Rebels, in full combat gear.
The planes had refueled in central Missouri and spent the night there. They were circling the small airport outside Grinnell, Iowa at 1150 hours.
Ben had arranged transportation (thousands of vehicles
around the nation were still operable after a bit of servicing) and the troops mounted up and were rolling after guards were placed around the aircraft.
“You’re in charge here while I’m meeting with General Striganov,” Ben told Ike. “I’m only taking four people with me.”
“Plus your bodyguards.”
“Only four people,” Ben repeated.
“Plus your bodyguards,” Ike insisted, staring out the windshield.
Ben sighed. “All right, Ike. If it will make you happy.”
Ike sniffed the air of the cab. “Smells like perfume in here, Ben. Have you gone funny on me?”
Ben gave him a hard look. But it was to no avail. No one could stay miffed at Ike. Ben told him about Gale.
“One good thing came of this trip anyway,” the stocky ex-Seal said with a grin. His grin faded. “We got a little more trouble down home, though.”
“Oh?”
“Emil Hite and his band of kookies and fruities. They’re growing, Ben. Seems people are looking for something or someone to believe in. ‘Bout five or six hundred more new members just joined up with Hite and his cream-pies.”
“Moving into our area?”
“I don’t know how to keep them out, Ben. They’re not armed, never make any kind of hostile move. They are not aggressive at all. What the hell can we do under those circumstances?”
“We can run their paganistic asses clear out of the area,” Ben spoke through clenched teeth. Emil Hite was the Jim Jones type-only worse. Ben suspected, but had no way of proving, that Hite was having sexual relations
with young boys and girls ten years of age-and less. And he knew comhaving seen with his own eyes-Hite and his followers were worshipping idols. Well, they could worship a pile of horse hockey if they chose, but it was the children that concerned Ben.
Ike glanced at him and worked his chewing tobacco over to the other side of his mouth. “The mutants might not like that too much, ol” buddy.”
“What the hell do the mutants have to do with Emil Hite?”
“Well-was Ike spat out the open window-“Emile Hite and his nutsos kind of worship the ugly bastards.”
That so startled Ben he almost lost the pickup. He was glad Gale was not with him. “What!”
“Yeah. Our intelligence just discovered that a few days ago. Seems they-Hite and his jellybeans-have been feeding the mutants for the past year or so; kind of tamed some of them, I reckon. And hold on to your balls for this one: Every now and then, so intelligence has gathered, Hite gives the ugly things women.”
“You have got to be kidding!”
“Nope.” Ike shrugged philosophically. “Savage and stupid people the world over have been doing things similar since the beginnings of time, Ben. You know that.”
“Yeah. The Aztecs, Mayans, hell, the Hawaiians used to toss selected maidens into volcanoes.” He shook his head in disgust. “Well, I’ll deal with Hite later. Right now, let’s worry about the Russians.”
“One thing at a time.” Ike grinned.
The men stood for a full minute, each silently appraising the other. They were very close in age; no more than
a year or two separated them. Both were in excellent physical shape, heavily muscled and lean-waisted.
“General Striganov.” Ben was the first to speak. He extended his hand. The Russian took it.
“So good to at last meet you, General Raines. It’s rare one gets to meet a legend.”
“If indeed I am a legend.”
“Oh, you are, sir.” Georgi said with a smile. “Have no doubts concerning that.”
Ben decided to pull no punches with the man. “I won’t apologize for what happened to your young man in Rolla, General. He and his men raped one of my people and roughed up another.”
The Russian smiled grimly. “No apologies expected, General. I personally shot him.”
Ben lifted his eyes to meet the Russian’s open gaze.
“Oh yes, General Raines. His orders were not to rape or physically abuse the population. And I run a very tight ship, so to speak. I will not tolerate any breach of discipline. Besides, Mikael, so I learned, was somewhat of a-how to say this-was twisted sexually. He will not be missed. His rather lame excuse about your two young people being spies had no validity. Spies against what or whom? Russia no longer exists as a government; America no longer exists as a government, a power. The world, indeed, is a free, open land, as unbridled by man-made law as the vast seas. I view it this way, Generaclass="underline" If you have the right to set in place your own form of government, amenable to the people who follow you, then so do I. Would you argue that?”