That was when the brainstorm hit.
Blade halted, went to the desk, and tried several of its drawers. None of them were locked. He discovered a fingernail file, a brush, a mirror in the second one he opened. In the third he found a pack of matches. Smiling, he walked to the KGB files and opened all three drawers. He lit a match, then touched the flame to the files. A folder sparked, then burst into flame.
He swiftly repeated the procedure with each drawer. The room was filled with smoke by the time he stood, dropped the matches into the top drawer, and ran into the corridor.
The KGB was in for a nasty surprise.
Blade jogged toward the stairwell. He had the information the Freedom Federation needed. But it wouldn’t, be of any use if he didn’t make it out of the Ministry alive. He flung the stairwell door open, stepped onto the landing.
“Freeze!” someone bellowed from overhead.
Ulade glanced up.
A Russian soldier was leaning over the railing half a flight above, his AK-47 trained on the Warrior.
Chapter Seventeen
“Where do you think your friends went?” Libby asked.
“I don’t know,” Bertha admitted.
“Maybe they split on you,” pudgy Eddy suggested.
“And left the SEAL here?” Bertha rejoined.
They were standing next to the transport. The sun was just cresting the eastern horizon. None of the Claws had been able to sleep after the incident with the nocturnal Hunter. Shortly before daybreak, Cole had recommended finding Bertha’s friends. Libby and Eddy came along. The rest were told to remain in the cabin.
“They’ll be back,” Cole said.
“If they don’t get racked,” Eddy commented.
Bertha glanced at Pudgy. “Boy! Ain’t you the cheery one!”
“What the hell do I have to be happy about?” Eddy responded.
“How about getting out of there, for one thing,” Libby remarked.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” was Eddy’s retort.
Bertha leaned against the SEAL. The doors were locked, and only Blade had a key. There was nothing she could do, nowhere she could go, until Blade and Sundance returned. But who knew how long that could take?
They must have departed for Philadelphia last night! She was slightly miffed they had gone on without her. But she knew the Big Guy pretty well, knew he wouldn’t allow anything to interfere with the mission.
Usually. There had been that time in Thief River Falls.
“So what do we do now?” Libby inquired. She, like Cole and Eddy, carried an AK-47.
“We wait for my buddies,” Bertha stated.
“How long? A day? A week?” Eddy asked.
Cole glared at Eddy. “Shut up,” he snapped.
Eddy did.
Bertha studied Cole. The Claw leader had been abnormally silent on the trek from the log cabin. What was he thinking about? The prospect of living at the home? Of delivering the Claws from a savage existence of survival of the fittest?
“We could leave one of us here,” Libby proposed, “and the rest of us could wait at the cabin.” She paused. “I don’t like leaving the younger ones alone.”
“They can take care of themselves,” Eddy said.
Cole stared in the general direction of their hideout. “Libby, you can stay here with Bertha. Eddy and I will go back.”
“Fine by me,” Libby stated.
“Hey!” Eddy said. “Do you guys hear something?”
Bertha suddenly did, and an icy sensation crept over her skin.
Gunshots. Coming from the…
“The cabin!” Cole shouted, and was off, racing at breakneck speed.
Libby and Eddy took off after him.
Bertha clutched her M-16 and followed. The three Claws were able to traverse the terrain at an uncanny speed. Years of practice had endowed them with exceptionally fleet feet and remarkable skill at negotiating obstacles in their path. She was able to keep Libby and Eddy in sight, but couldn’t gain on them. Her forehead began hurting again. She’d examined the wound during the night. There was a ragged two-inch gash along her hairline,, but otherwise she seemed to be fine. She doubted she had a concussion. Her head had sustained tremendous blows in the past. Hickok liked to say it was the hardest head he knew of. But what did he know?
The distant gunfire attained a crescendo. Screams and shrieks were distinguishable.
Bertha abruptly forgot all else in her concern for the Claws. She hadn’t considered them to be in any grave danger until that very instant. After all, those kids had spent years surviving in the wilderness of Valley Forge, fighting Hunters and other Packrats, stealing food and guns and whatever else they required. She knew there existed a violent rivalry among the Packrat gangs for control of the large but limited tract of land comprising Valley Forge. But the Packrats were, for the most part, young children, and she’d never seriously considered them as being decidedly deadly.
She was about to have her impression changed.
Bertha was still hundreds of yards from the log cabin when the shooting died down. A ghastly screech reached her ears, then all was unnaturally quiet. She ran a little faster. Eddy and Libby were about 20 yards ahead of her. They reached the field at the bottom of the burned-out hill and started across. Bertha was breathing heavily, and her left side began hurting as she neared the base of the hill. Ignoring the pain in her side, she took a deep breath and plunged forward across the field.
Cole was nowhere in sight, but Libby and Eddy were 30 yards in front of her.
Bertha poured on the steam, and was again only 20 yards behind the duo when they entered the trees.
Someone screamed.
Bertha clutched her M-16 in both hands and jogged into the woods. She darted through the brush and among the trees until she spied the clearing and the cabin, and then she halted, stunned.
The log cabin resembled a sieve. The door had been shot to pieces, riddled with bullets until whole sections had fallen off. The windows had fared worse; all of the glass panes were gone, and the edges where chipped and pockmarked. Even the cabin walls had been perforated again and again and again by heavy-caliber slugs. Bodies were everywhere. Bodies of the Claws. Most of them were congregated near the door, as if they’d been gunned down in the act of fleeing the cabin. A few had tumbled into the pit. Blood soaked the ground.
“Lordy!” Bertha exclaimed, walking up to the clearing.
Cole was on his knees to the left of the cabin door. The body of the young girl, Milly, was cradled in his lap. Her forehead had been blown off.
Tears streaked his cheeks as he rocked back and forth. His lips were trembling. “No!” he cried. “No! No! No!”
Libby and Eddy stood near the pit. Libby appeared to be in a state of shock. Eddy, by contrast, was livid, his pudgy features contorted in rage.
“They’re… all… dead!” Libby stated in a dazed, surveying the massacre.
“How?” Eddy demanded. “Where were the guards? We posted guards before we left!”
“Maybe,” Libby said, her eyes watering, “maybe the guards were killed before they could sound the alarm.”
Eddy pointed at the log cabin. “And what the hell did that? Those walls were thick! They could stand up to an AK-47! That’s why we picked this place. But look at them! Look at the size of those holes!”