Observing a Toyota pick-up grind past in low gear, laden with a tower of cases of wine and beer, Lippincott curled his lip in disbelief. “The hell they are. This looks like it’s building to be one of your parties.”
From the open hatchback of a much dented Opel a dirty face appeared, bearing a leering expression.
“The girls are on the way, Major. Is your friend stopping? He’ll have to get in line. There aren’t enough to go round.”
“Who the hell is that, one of the replacements?” Lippincott’s glare had no effect on the dishevelled PFC, who raised a can in mock salute before washing his face with its contents.
“That’s Ackerman. He came highly recommended, by himself. Does have some useful contacts though. Some surprising ones.”
“I can imagine, but I want to know what’s going on.”
Shrugging, Revell tried to make light of the situation. “Like I said, Colonel, a little celebration.”
“In a fucking pig’s eye. And what girls was that maniac going on about? Who could you get to come all the way out here, apart from a few of the whores from one of the cleaner camps, unless…” Lippincott looked at his subordinate with suspicion, and then as comprehension dawned, with something approaching awe.
“You’ve roped in Frau Lilly and that mobile brothel of hers, haven’t you.”
“I said Ackerman had some useful contacts. She’s said she’ll stop by…”
“Frau Lilly…” Lippincott lost himself in thought, “Why she and I go way back… but never mind. If you ever decide to get rid of this Ackerman, pass him on to me. I thought Lilly never obliged anything less than a Divisional HQ a man like that could be useful.”
“You’re welcome to stay and join in the fun, Colonel.”
“I’m sorely tempted, sorely, but not this time. I recall your last party. Dooley invited me to play football with him, I didn’t know he meant with me as the ball. I was combing glass out of my hair for a week. And besides,” Lippincott winced as ‘Bat out of Hell’ belted out across the park, “I can’t stand heavy metal.”
The pilot returned, slowly, as he was continually casting wistful glances over the preparations. Reluctantly he climbed in, and began his checks.
“There’s something else.” Lippincott leaned out and made sure he had Revell’s full attention. “It’s the general’s orders. I’ve got to see they’re carried out.”
He’d been half anticipating there would be a sting in the tail to the colonel’s visit. Revell saw his superior hesitating, but there was no way he was going to make it any easier for him.
“You won’t like this, but with the truce on, the general reckons you won’t be needing your armour. And before you ask, that means all the captured vehicles as well, and the HAPC. He figures if you’re only riding herd on a bunch of unarmed Reds the personal weapons should be more than sufficient.”
Above the cabin the rotors began to beat the air, drafting rippling patterns through the grass.
“One last thing.” Leaning out, Lippincott bellowed into the major’s ear to make himself heard as the engine ran up to full power. “Those aerial shots of your strike on the convoy—according to the photographic interpretation boys it looked like one of your guys was riding outside the HAPC. The general wasn’t happy about that. Said it was crazy. Tell the madman not to do it again.”
Over the colonel’s shoulder, Revell could see the filled body bag in the back of the cabin. “He won’t, Colonel.”
SEVEN
“Am I going nuts, or can I hear praying?” Dooley stopped towelling his closed-cropped hair, and cocked his head on one side to listen.
“I don’t know about going crazy, but yes, you can hear praying.” Carrington lounged in the open doorway and watched Dooley hopping about as he struggled to pull on socks over still wet feet. “It’s Old William.”
“That ancient Dutchman with Vokes’s pioneers? When did he get back? After the crack he took, I’d have thought they’d have invalided him out for certain.”
“He hitched a ride with me, up from the dumps. Apparently he’d been hitching his way back, been on the road for the best part of a week. Certainly seems fit enough, for a bloke his age. Got what looks like a depressed fracture on his right temple you could put a golf ball in, but he seems all there. Not that he says a lot, mind you.”
Dooley succeeded with the sock, and then swore when he saw that the heel was on top of his foot. He sat on the edge of the bed for his second attempt. “Come off it, how can he be all right in the head? Here we are, about to indulge ourselves in the wildest debauchery and greatest drunk of all time, and he’s praying. And you say he hasn’t got a screw loose? Anybody who at this moment isn’t shining themselves for the party has to be a few bricks short of a full load.”
“To each their own. As long as he doesn’t hide the booze or try to convert my lady friends, I’m easy.” Carrington looked around the room. It was littered with pieces of equipment, weapons, and wet towels. “For a guy who wants to impress the ladies, you haven’t paid much attention to housekeeping, have you?”
“Ah, now that’s where you’re wrong.” Clad only in his socks, Dooley opened a connecting door with a flourish. “This is where I’ll do my entertaining.” He was pleased to see that the corporal appeared suitably impressed.
“Very nice. Thick pile carpet, four poster bed, silk covers, yes, very nice. Hope you don’t mind me saying though, if that’s all the outfit you’re going to wear, you don’t think it might make you appear a little overeager to get down to screwing, do you?”
“Fuck off. I’m getting dressed, of course I am. I found some really cool threads in the staff quarters on the top floor, the attics. Had a bit of trouble finding anything my size though.”
“See what you mean.” Carrington watched him haul up and squeeze into a tiny pair of shorts. The printed pattern of entwined hearts bulged and creased to a series of distorted red blobs.
“You reckon the room looks OK? Haven’t overdone it, have I? These girls are used to mixing with top brass, used to a bit of class.”
“No, it’s in perfect taste. The case of beer beside the bed is a nice touch. Just the sort of thing they’d be expecting.”
“Smart ass. That’s for me. There’s a case of champagne on the other side:” From the window Dooley caught a glimpse of a strange vehicle entering the grounds. He thought his eyes were playing him tricks, and looked harder. No, he hadn’t been mistaken. Three Warpac, eight-wheeled armoured command vehicles were approaching the building. Each of them was painted a bright pink.
“They’re here. The girls are here!” Immediately he grabbed up a pair of undersize Levis and struggled to get into them. “Wait for me, you shit.” He shouted after Carrington. “Wait for me. Where are my bloody boots, wait for me!”
“It’s no good you doing that.” Dooley watched, head propped up on a pile of satin pillows, as the woman swung her heavy breasts from side to side across his body. “You’ve drained me.”
She sat back on her heels and pushed empty beer cans off the bed. “Too much drink. It is not good.”
“Not good? I’ve come three times already. I bet that’s a couple more than those chairbound warriors you usually service.”
“Maybe without the beer you could have been four times better, or perhaps five. Do you want to do something else? We can join some of the others if you like. That can be fun. Even if you only watch.”
“I’m not into that group stuff. Tell you what I would fancy though, now that we’ve slowed down. How about an ordinary cuddle, no rude stuff.”
He watched her. She was a tall, big-boned girl. Possibly in her mid to late twenties. Rising to a kneeling position straddling his legs, she ran her hands down her sides over the front of her thighs and then up between her legs.