“What makes you think that?”
“Come on, patsan. You’re used to ordering men around, no reason to deny it. Are you a deserter?”
“I prefer to think of it the other way round: my army deserting me.” Tarasov stirs as a grenade from the RG-6 detonates with a loud bang. “Looks like neither of you is committed to Bandit business. That means we’re in the same shoes because all we want is to get back to the New Zone, just like you.”
“You’ve been to the New Zone?” Buryat asks. “How is it there?”
“Everything’s kind of bigger. If we stick together, we have a better chance to deal with the Bandits once we’re in the New Zone.”
“How do you want to deal with them?”
Tarasov cocks an eye at the spot where the dead Bandits lie. The two deserters exchange a grin.
“Besides, the New Zone is a tough place. Local equivalent of the Bar is Bagram. I can help you get there. All in all, it’s your best interest to side with us.”
Not to mention a trigger-happy Hartman who’d shoot you without fluttering an eyelid if you don’t, Tarasov mentally adds.
“Fine with me,” Buryat says.
“You, Ferret? With or against us?”
The Freedomer nods. “Count me in, but I beg you not to take the Dutyer. Duty’s presence is bad for the mood.”
“And yours for morale,” Buryat grumbles.
“Guys, I don’t want you to suck each other’s yalda but please, try not to stab each other in the back until we’re in Bandit country. Is that too much for me to ask?”
“I’ll try,” says Ferret.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, ’Chekh’. A Dutyer would never stab anyone in the back. Only black-hearted anarchists do that.”
“Let’s make a campfire,” Ferret says. He rubs his hands together. “It’s freezing!”
“What will you whine about next?” the Dutyer asks. “Your sausage is too small, huh?”
“You should try Freedom sausage, buddy. It’s bigger and longer than what you Dutyers are used to!”
“Stick it up your anarchist butt and rotate!”
Leaving the two quarrelling men to themselves, Tarasov sees the time fit to report back to Jack — including the final body count. Having secured Buryat’s and Ferret’s loyalty, it is no longer necessary to dispose of them and extend the casualty list. He presses the switch on the radio set.
“Jack. Misha Chekh here.”
“At last! What the hell took you so long?”
“Resistance was heavier than expected but the mission is accomplished. The helipad is secure and the wrecked chopper has been removed.”
“Casualties?”
“Only the two pindos, the Freedomer and the Dutyer made it through.”
“Abdul?”
“Abdul’s gone. Stepped on a damned land mine after he finished the job.”
“There are still mines?”
Another detonation blasts the edge of the minefield.
“Don’t worry, we’re about to clean it.”
“Yeah, I hear it. Too bad about Abdul. Such a waste of talent.”
“Damn tragic indeed.”
“Never mind, at least I don’t have to pay him. Good job, fellows. Sultan will be pleased.”
“That’s why we’re here, Jack. To please Sultan.” Tarasov is glad Jack can’t see his grin. “What’s next?”
“Stay where you are. Keep any mutants off the helipad until more men arrive.”
“Is, uhm, Margarita safe?”
“You bet she is. Stop whining about her, patsan! You in love with her or what?”
Jack clears the channel.
“As a matter of fact I am,” Tarasov murmurs reattaching the radio set to his belt.
He walks over to Hartman who is giving a Pete a crash course on handling the grenade launcher. “Love at first sight, huh?”
The Top gives him a beaming smile. “You bet.”
“The two deserters are on our side.”
“Wise choice.”
“What about Nooria?” Pete asks. “I’m worried about leaving her alone in the Bandit camp.”
“Jack told me she’s fine.”
“What was that talk about her being an assassin, anyway?”
“No idea. Probably the big boss was impressed by her escape from the SBU.”
“Yup,” the Top nods. “Can’t blame him for falling for her charm.”
“Three hours till daylight,” Tarasov says illuminating the dial on his watch. ”I wonder what they’re up to now.”
“Guess they need the place to land a chopper with supplies.”
“Or a chopper to fly us out.”
“Wishful thinking, Pete. They’d need a whole fleet of choppers to get out all the Bandits.”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Tarasov says. “Now look at that! Our new friends eventually managed to make a campfire without killing each other. Let’s warm ourselves up and wait.”
66
“You know the New Zone well, Margarita?”
Nooria stares at the huge map Jack has rolled out over his table. Her answer would be yes. However, she never used maps to navigate through the wilderness where she grew up. Even if she could read maps, there’s still the concern that Jack might ask her about directions and places she has no intention to share.
“I know about Bagram,” she cautiously says.
“It’s the northern areas I’m interested in.”
“I don’t know northern passages very good,” she replies, relieved over Jack not asking her about the Tribe’s valley.
“We might have a problem.” Jack sounds genuinely concerned. “Recently, we tried to establish a base for our operations west of Bagram but an idiot called Bruiser screwed it up. Looks like we’ll need to be more cautious this time.”
“What happened?”
“He and his men cleared out a Loners’ lair at a position that would’ve been more than perfect. Right in the middle of the New Zone, between the artifact fields here and Bagram, here.” Jack points his finger to two points on the map. “They barely had time to catch their breath when a bunch of heavily armed whackos appeared out of the blue. Our brothers didn’t stand a chance — it was not a fight but a massacre!”
“Who did it? Stalkers?”
“You heard of them whackos calling themselves the Tribe?”
Nooria is barely able to suppress a smile. “Yes. Very dangerous people. You better don’t get close to them.”
“That’s my second question. See, a short while ago there was a huge emission that devastated Termez. Sultan has spent a fortune to get things arranged there — landing, switching to choppers, getting over the border into the New Zone and all. Now the place is a mess and our arrangements no longer stand. The good news is, our flight will less likely be suspicious among all the disaster relief traffic. Bad news is, we have to land directly in the New Zone. Bruiser and his remaining men are holed up at a village called Charikhar, here, north of Bagram. My question is: do you think the Tribe can attack us there?”
“It is far from Bagram.”
“I know, but the road running close to it is the only place where our airplanes can land. Kunduz and Mazari Sheriff are too far north.”
“It is Mazari Sharif,” Nooria corrects him.
“Mazari — Whatever!” Jack snorts. “I give a rat’s ass about what locals call it.”
Nooria finds Jack’s arrogance very much to her satisfaction, and hopes that it will translate as carelessness once they are there. It wouldn’t be the first time the New Zone would punish arrogant newcomers. It appears to her that the place marked on the map is out of the Tribe’s regular patrol grids; however, close enough for the Colonel to send in a strike force and eliminate the Bandit’s foothold once he learns the location.