"When the U.S. bombed Dapoli, you know what was said? It was said that the Russians saw it as an opportunity to see how Soviet-made anti-aircraft-missile batteries would deal with American weapons under true battle conditions. That the Soviets saw the bombing of Dapoli as a mere test for their ordnance."
"That may have been a by-product of the incident," Koldunov admitted coolly. He showed no fear. As loudly as he yelled, Colonel Intifadah could not get a rise out of him.
"Yes, I am glad you admit that much. Because I believe it is happening once again."
"I do not understand."
"This!" Colonel Intifadah said, stabbing his desk with a finger. "This is another test. I am reduced to being a Soviet guinea pig. You have a new weapon. You dare not test it openly. You have stupid treaties with our mortal enemies, the Americans, too. But in me you have a way to test this fearsome device by proxy. Undetected by America. And if detected, who is it who gets bombed? Not Moscow. Not the Ukraine. But Lobynia!"
"I must remind you of your own words, comrade. You demanded Soviet assistance. This weapon has been deployed on your soil at your request."
"A trick! Another Russian trick. I am given a weapon of ultimate terror and I am reduced to flinging locomotives."
"Both launches were successful."
"Successful? Successful, comrade?" The Colonel jumped around his desk. His cruel face shoved into the Russian's own. "See that map?" he said, pointing to a global wall map.
"Yes, of course."
"Show me the targets I have destroyed."
"You cannot expect accuracy with such projectiles."
"I know that, you dog!"
"A locomotive cannot be controlled in flight. As it is, the first launch was highly successful-if your U.S. spies are correct. The projectile missed the White House by the merest distance---considering the distance the projectile traveled."
"It destroyed nothing!"
"It came within a meaningful distance of the designated target. It is unprecedented."
"The second one did not even strike Washington!"
"The fault of the carrier rails. They had to be relaid to accommodate the narrow-gauge European engine. It weakened them. I explained to you that if you insisted upon using American locomotives, all subsequent launches would have to be done with American locomotives. European engines have shorter wheelbases. They do not fit the tracks as originally laid down. Had you waited until you secured another American engine, the second strike might have been on target."
"Now you are blaming me!"
"I am pointing out that I did not select either the intended targets or the projectiles. I can only control the weapon."
"If you would give me one missile, I could accomplish my end. I do not need to rain death down on all of America. The destruction of Washington would be enough. It would satisfy me."
"From the Soviet point of view, both launches were unqualified successes. With repairs and more adjustments, I feel confident that complete success will be inevitable!"
"I do not want inevitable success! I want instant success. I have waited too long already. The Chinese promised me nuclear weapons, and U.S. pressure forced them to renege. The Iranians promised me poison gases, and even they balked when pressured by Washington. My terror agents have been rounded up in every capital. Everything I do, every scheme I hatch, the Americans chop off my hands before fruition comes. I will wait no longer."
"You will wait at least a week. For repairs," Koldunov said firmly.
The Colonel trembled in controlled rage. His eyes squeezed into thin slits.
"I know what you are counting on, you and your Russian masters."
Koldunov said nothing.
"You are counting on my locomotives to do no real damage."
"If they strike their target, the damage will be horrific."
"No. You count on most of their mass burning up on reentry. What strikes the ground is just a part of the whole. "
"That is not our fault. If you can provide us with engines that are impervious to reentry forces, that problem will be solved."
"Do not look so smug, Koldunov. I may do exactly that. "
In spite of himself, Pyotr Koldunov smiled thinly. The smile was erased at the Colonel's next words.
"Go and repair your terror weapon. I am expecting the next locomotive today. And as soon as the gun is operational, you will send it to a target where, no matter how wide of the mark it falls, there will be tremendous casualties. For if I cannot have Washington, D.C., I will settle for raining death upon New York City."
"One week," said Koldunov.
"Go now."
After the Russian had left, Colonel Intifadah hunkered down behind his desk. His big hairy hands shook with his anger. He had gotten a reaction. Koldunov understood. Washington, D.C., with its open spaces, was one thing, but Manhattan, densely packed with skyscrapers and people, was another entirely.
Soon, Colonel Intifadah thought, America would feel the terrible fist of his wrath.
The telephone shrilled and Colonel Intifadah picked up the receiver.
"Yes? What is it?" he snapped.
"Are we in a bad temper today?" a mellow voice inquired politely.
The Colonel's brutish face relaxed. The telephone voice was so reassuring.
"Hello, comrade."
"Hello, Colonel. That is better. I have excellent news for you. "
"Yes?" Colonel Intifadah said, gripping the receiver. "I have the carbon-carbon shipment."
"That is excellent news. Many lives will be changed by your skill. Yes, a great many lives," Colonel Intifadah said, looking at his global map.
"I am happy to provide service. That is what I live for. You will of course see to it that the agreed-upon amount is deposited in my Zurich account before shipment."
"Instantly."
"A pleasure doing business with you. Will there be anything else?"
"Yes, I am suddenly in the market for locomotives."
"Specifications?"
"I am interested in the largest European models available. They need not be in operating condition. Just so long as the wheels turn freely."
"That is a strange request."
"I know I can count on your absolute confidentiality in this matter."
"Of course. I exist to fulfill the customer's needs. Now, how many do you require?"
"As many as you can ship. I foresee my country having a serious locomotive shortfall for the next several years."
"I will be back to you with specifications by the end of the business day, your time."
"Thank you, Friend."
Chapter 14
It was nearly midnight when the taxi dropped off Remo and Chiun at the Folcroft gate.
"Got change for a hundred-dollar bill?" Remo asked the cabbie.
The driver turned his pugnacious face around and said in a surly voice, "Don't give me no crap here. I gave you a flat rate before we started. Fifty bucks, I said. You knew it was going to cost fifty when we started."
"I would still your insolent tongue if I were you," Chiun sniffed.
"And that goes for you too, buster. The fare is fifty bucks. And I don't carry that kind of change on me. I get robbed all the time."
"What would you say the proper tip would be, Little Father?" Remo asked calmly.
"I just gave him the proper tip," Chiun replied blandly. "And he would do well to heed it."
"You have a point," Remo said pleasantly. He extracted a single hundred-dollar bill from his wallet, folded it in two, and then ripped the bill into equal halves. He handed the irate cabbie one half.
"What's this crap?" the cabbie roared.
"He must like that word, 'crap,' " Chiun pointed out. "It befits his loud mouth."
"It's half of a hundred-dollar bill," Remo told the driver. "Fifty bucks." He smiled. "You can keep the change."
"I can't spend this!"