“Let’s go and see how Frederick is faring,” said Rosacher.
“I told you, ain’t no point,” said Cerruti. “Anyway, Frederick likes a little peace and quiet when he’s eating. He won’t be done for a while yet.”
“Then let’s wait a while and walk over there. Assuming they survived Frederick’s assault, and I think they should have, I packed them quite carefully…I have several bottles of good red wine in my saddlebags. You and I can discuss things over a glass or two.”
Cerruti beamed. “Now I’m your man where wine is concerned.”
“I knew you would be,” Rosacher said.
14
Upon returning to the House, Rosacher busied himself with scheming, studying Aldo’s maps and charts, hoping to construct a strategy for blunting a potential aggression on the part of Mospiel. He made some progress, but deciding that he needed help with the plan, he met the following morning with Breque in the conference room where he had initially proposed an alliance between himself and the council. Also in attendance was Gerald Makdessi, a young colonel who had been on Aldo’s staff and was thought to be a natural successor to the fallen general. He was a tall, punctilious man in his thirties, his close-cropped brown hair beginning to show gray, with a lean face that might have been laid out by a carpenter rule, its features were so standard—straight nose, thin, wide mouth, narrow blue-gray eyes all gathered within a tanned oblong frame. His expression—one of calm, attentive reserve—rarely changed, and then only by degree. As the men sat at the long mahogany table, their voices echoing slightly in the spacious room, the sun shafting through the eastern windows, its beams articulated by motes of glowing dust, Makdessi’s movements were economical, confined to a slight inclination of the head, a gesture with the fingers, and the like. Once Rosacher had finished his presentation, he asked permission to speak.
“The morale of Mospiel’s army is, as you have stated, not high,” he said. “Their discipline is poor and I have been informed that there are influential elements within the command that differ with the prelates on the value of a war with Teocinte. They have no great will to fight, but they nonetheless present a formidable foe due to their sheer numbers. I recommend that we flood the garrison towns along the border with mab. And I recommend we do so immediately.”
“Mospiel has made it clear that they would consider any attempt to introduce mab into their territory an act of war,” said Breque.
“Yet they have permitted a black market in the drug to go more-or-less unchecked,” Makdessi said. “Frankly, I doubt that they would notice the influx of drugs for several weeks, but even if they did, they can prepare for war no more quickly than they are at present. A sudden infusion of a drug that makes self-sacrifice less appealing, that lessens aggression and creates a lack of rigor in their preparation…it can’t help but benefit our cause.” He turned to Rosacher. “As to the city of Mospiel itself, your design is sound as far as it goes, but I have some ideas that may augment your own.”
“Please, proceed,” said Rosacher.
“In my view we should act boldly. We cannot afford to wait to learn if your attempt to assassinate Carlos has succeeded before initiating our attack on Mospiel.” Makdessi cleared away papers from a map of the region and pointed to an area on the northern border. “Mospiel has always felt that the swamps of the Gran Chaco were a barrier against an attack from the north—and they would, indeed, negate the possibility of an army moving upon the city from that direction. But a force comprised of small independent units trained to negotiate that terrain, expert in hand-to-hand combat, a guerilla troop, if you will…that is a wholly different matter. Three years ago General Aldo and I, with the approval of the council, established such a force in the towns along the perimeter of the swamp. We have over eight hundred men and women in eleven separate communities who are often away from home for weeks at a time, engaged in trapping, trading, and other pursuits. Their absence from their homes will not be seen as extraordinary and thus will not be reported on by the operatives of the prelates. We should send this force into Mospiel as soon as possible.”
“Why haven’t I been told about this before?” Rosacher asked, the restraints on his temper starting to slip.
“I saw no great urgency to inform you,” said Breque. “You were preoccupied with other matters…as was I.”
“I was not so preoccupied that I wished to remain ignorant of a possible incursion into Mospiel.”
“I was engaged on several fronts at the time, and thus I didn’t think to notify you of the disposition of every matter. Perhaps I should in the future inform you of every shipment of toilet tissue, every…”
“An act of aggression against Mospiel is scarcely something so insignificant!”
“Gentlemen!” said Makdessi. “This is neither the time nor the place for such an unproductive digression. The situation is grave and I, at least, have duties to perform.”
Rosacher shot a scathing look at Breque and waved in assent, and Breque said, “This is a trying time. Colonel. My apologies.”
“At the same time we push in from the Gran Chaco,” Makdessi went on, “we’ll pull troops away from the Temalaguan border and march them toward our southern border with Mospiel, a point from which they might logically expect an attack to be launched. And then we strike with our elite cavalry unit farther north, the garrison at Ciudad Flores, with the aim of killing General Teixera and as many of his staff as we can.” He leaned back from the map. “Teixera and his staff constitute the best of their military minds. If we’re able to inflict casualties amongst them, we’ll be well ahead of the game.”
“I don’t understand the purpose of your guerillas in the Gran Chaco.” Rosacher said. “To what end will they be deployed?”
“They will endeavor to occupy the seat of power in Mospiel,” Breque said. “The Temple of the Gentle Beast. That has been their goal from the outset. To occupy the temple and hold the hierarchy hostage.”
“You intend to take the temple with only eight hundred men?” Rosacher shook his head in disbelief.
“I’ll coordinate the attack myself.” Makdessi said. “The Temple Guard are excellent soldiers, but so are we, and we will enter the complex disguised as pilgrims. The element of surprise will be ours. Once the temple is secured, it would take an army to dislodge us, and to do so would forfeit the lives of His High Holiness and the prelates.”
“There are too many moving parts to this plan for my liking,” said Rosacher.
Makdessi said, “We’re in a desperate position. One that calls for desperate measures. We’re bound to take a great many casualties—of that there is little doubt. But the virtue of this plan is that it doesn’t require precise coordination between the various moving parts, as you put it. So long as they occur within a few days of each other, we have a decent chance of success.”
“We’d be leaving Teocinte unprotected,” said Breque. “If they were to launch a counter-offensive, it would be unopposed.”
“The circumstance in which we find ourselves necessitates a certain amount of risk,” said Makdessi. “There is no certain way to accomplish our aims, and to be conservative at this juncture would be to guarantee failure.”
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” said Rosacher.
“Precisely.”
After a silence Breque said, “I think it would be best, Colonel, if you gave us an hour or two to discuss the situation. You may rest assured that we will give due consideration to all your recommendations.”