It was too much to hope it would catch any of the Russian advance guard. The most they might hope for was that even with the tanks a full hundred and fifty metres from the carriageways, the results might be so violent that the Russians would be forced in to a short detour.
Dodging the sliding door Dooley nipped in to the store and grabbed up a handful of chocolate bars. The selection was sparse, as it was everywhere in West Germany now and in any event he didn’t have the time to be choosy but just took what fell to hand. He rushed back to the APC, jumping aboard as the rear door hydraulics were just taking the strain and about to lift the heavy slab of armour.
“That’s nice, nearly closing me out. Here…” He handed the bars around, even offering one to their prisoner… “Have a snack.”
The Russian only groaned and closed his eyes at the offering.
After treating the tanks on the other side of the autobahn in the same fashion they pulled out. The first section was a long steep climb. The Iron Cow made light work of it but it gave Revell a chance to watch behind them. They were just about at the top when he saw a motorcycle and sidecar pull up under the canopy, followed by a missile armed BRDM scout car, then it was all gone from sight as they started down the far side of the climb.
They had travelled no more than a few hundred metres further when a pale glow flickered in the sky behind them. Almost instantly it changed to a small but brilliant white light, then without sound it transformed in to a giant mushroom of flame. A second rose beside it, then a third and then a succession. As they flared up into the dark sky they were replaced by vivid pillars of light, great glaring fingers of fire that rose to a great height.
“You think we caught many?” Simmons listened to the officer’s report with satisfaction. “We must’ve caught some, they were right on our tail.”
“Maybe, but very likely not.” Samson had been looking at their prisoner, taking his temperature, checking his pulse. He turned and made a slight negative move of his head to the Major. “They would have checked for booby traps first, that’s why Thorne set the timers so fine everything would have gone up almost before they started checking. But I tell you one thing. I bet they are real pissed off. Now everything depends on them getting to the next service centre and finding it safe and sound. They are going to be in desperate need of gas for their big guns by the time they get there.”
“Let us hope they are so desperate by that time that they throw caution to the wind.” There was satisfaction in Andrea’s voice. “It would be nice to catch a lot of them.” She pushed deeper in to her bench to get further from the demolition bomb. “I know I shall be glad to get away from that thing. But I shall be happier still if we can catch the Russian spearhead with it.”
Carson patted the bulky pack. “Actually I have been kind of getting attached to the little fellow. But I know what you mean, he’s been threatening to take us with him for so long it would be good if in fact somebody else gets dusted over the landscape.”
Lieutenant Andy took a swig from a can of coke and elevated it in a toast. “Amen to that, Amen indeed.”
“And what do you hope to gain?” General Zucharnin could not keep the snarl out of his voice, and didn’t try. He hoped his voice conveyed the venom he wanted. He had expected his Second-in-Command to gloat, but that there was a hint of doubt, a lack of confidence in his manner that suggested events had not gone entirely the way he had wanted or expected.
Although he was the one who had made the arrest, Lieutenant General Gregori did not feel the overwhelming satisfaction he thought he should have done. There was still no elaboration on that first instruction from Moscow. At the very least he would have expected that by now the place would swarm with KGB investigators and political officers, confiscating papers and computers, rounding up officers, clerks and signallers of every grade. Anyone who might have by the furthest stretch of the imagination been involved in whatever Zucharnin was plotting.
“How long had you been scheming, how long had you been sucking dry that dolt of a stepson of mine? Oh yes, I know what you have been up to.” Zucharnins’ tone was contemptuous. “Did you think I did not know what you were doing? I was well aware of your conniving but never thought you would be so stupid as to make a move with out knowing all the facts. Your precipitation could cost you dear. I think you will be in for a disappointment if you hope to step straight in to my shoes.”
Gregori found himself irritated by Zucharnins confidence. He was not acting like a man on whom an axe could be about to fall, on whom it had already started to descend. Could his confidence stem from knowledge of the success his unconventional assault was having. If indeed it was successful.
Gregori had his own staff moving heaven and earth to find out what was going on. The first step had been to order Zucharnins people to reveal what they knew, but the line of questioning had puzzled them all. None appeared to have any knowledge of what was happening, share any degree of responsibility for it. But how could they not know. The general could not have organised the whole thing on his own. Especially not with the time he had available, not when he was spending so much time away, on fishing holidays.
He looked at his prisoner again. If anything he was smiling more. What did he have to smile about? There would be no more cosy little fishing trips…Oh, no. That was how he had done it. Gregori could have pulled his hair out. What he had seen as a weakness had been the general taking the opportunity to organise the whole affair. If he could scrape together a couple of dozen decent staff men from among the dregs he had siphoned off then licking a division in to shape would have not been difficult. A brutal regime, an iron fist and it could be done. That was how it had been done. The men under command would never have suspected anything, would never have dared question anything and officers he selected for senior positions would be too scared of losing the chance to escape the horrors of penal battalions to rock the boat. The whole thing would have policed itself, established by fear and maintained ignorance.
But still, he seemed so sure of himself. For all he knew the attack could have failed, Zucharnin could have no way of knowing.
Outside the door Gregori heard the guard being changed. Ah, of course, the men of the commandants service, the military police, they where just as open to persuasion. There were a thousand ways a senior officer could get a man in to his pocket, outside of regular orders. Every man wanted something, sometime. Compassionate leave, promotion, a posting. There were so many ways to get people to do what you wanted them to do, and doubtless, despite appearances one or more of the guards must be in his private employ.
“The only way you can do yourself any good is to talk. I need to know everything about the attack you have launched.” Grigori would have liked to make a threat but he strongly suspected it would do no good. “Your staff here are being interrogated but they appear to know nothing. As far as your assault division is concerned I can find no chain of command.” It was a severe temptation to strike the general, wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face. But Zucharnin was not scared, and in any case there were things to be said and heard that should not be spread about.
He had declined to have a guard in the room. Now Grigori wished one of the burly police NCO’s was present. The General was several years older but he was heavier and still a very fit man. He exercised every day and would likely hold his own in any exchange of blows. A fight between them might not necessarily end to Gregori’s advantage. It would take a couple of minutes for the guards to unlock and come in to separate them.