"I take it I passed."
"You're still here, aren't you?"
"We were wondering about that a couple of moments ago."
A brisk gesture from Lloyd-Ransom dismissed all but two soldiers and the dog handler.
"You don't need to wonder any longer. The truth is that I'm really rather pleased with this team."
Eggy was still glaring.
"So why roust us in the middle of the night?"
"This wasn't a roust."
"You coulda fooled me."
"Those were my personal guard. I hand picked them but they tend to get carried,away. They forget about diplomacy."
Parkwood raised an eyebrow.
"There could come a time when that might warrant some close watching."
"I don't think so."
"That's what Caligula said."
Lloyd-Ransom treated Parkwood to a long, cold look, then abruptly his expression changed. He looked at each of the five in turn as if making some final assessment.
"I think it's time a few things were explained to you."
"That'd make a change."
Eggy wasn't about to be placated. Lloyd-Ransom's eyes froze for a second time.
"I'd advise against any more interruptions."
There was a deviousness about Lloyd-Ransom. The facade he presented, the overdressed cynical fop tended to suck one in and lull one into forgetting how efficiently dangerous he could be. The man had spent two solid years in the bush making untrained and often unstable mercenaries do exactly what he wanted. Eggy was clearly just remembering this but he still needed a little room to save face.
"Would you advise against me having a drink?"
"Why don't you pour us all one?"
If anyone else had said that it would have provoked a probably obscene retort from Eggy. In this instance he said nothing. The five relaxed. Fenton and Debbie sat down. Lloyd-Ransom settled on the arm of a chair. Eggy handed him a drink and he removed his uniform cap.
"The first thing you need to know is that, on the outside, the situation is becoming extremely grave."
Lloyd-Ransom waited for a new mood of attention and anxiety to settle over the room.
"The Soviet civilian administration has completely collapsed. It's chaos. Next winter, millions will starve and there's absolutely nothing that can be done. The Red Army has split into no less than five identifiable groups and two of these are moving west, each followed by huge mobs of starving refugees. Some tank units of the leading army have already crossed the Kowalski line and are moving into West Poland. They may be hungry and disorganized and not directed by a central government, but they're still an invasion. If anything, it's worse. It's a ravenous mob spurred on by an absolute need to survive. If they aren't stopped they'll simply eat up Western Europe."
Fenton moved his hand in a gesture that wasn't quite a request for permission to speak.
"What about the Soviet missile system? Who's in control of that?"
Lloyd-Ransom spread his hands. "We don't know. If the rest of the story is anything to go by, it's probably as fragmented as anything else. Different groups in different parts of the country in charge of a couple hundred missiles each."
"And nobody has a clue if they're planning to fire them or not?"
Lloyd-Ransom looked from face to face.
"Sorry to say, but what the Russians may do is no longer the primary headache. Most people are now concerning themselves with what the Germans may do. If the Germans, backed up by the Poles, the British and the Dutch, can't hold the Russians on the ground with conventional weapons, and it's by no means certain that they can, the temptation will be to stop them in their tracks with a couple of low-yield airbursts." He paused. He glanced at Eggy. "I think I could use a refill."
Eggy got up and fetched the bottle but not without a noticeable demonstration of tried patience. Lloyd-Ransom sipped his drink and continued.
"If you think about it, it seems most unlikely that a jangled, disorganized and probably desperate Russian missile command is going to let the Red Army, whatever its condition, take nuclear hits without shooting back. Once the shooting back gets going, it's all the way in to the death. There's no power on earth that's going to stop it escalating. With Russia in the grip of total anarchy, even the communications aren't there. With no central government, there's no hotline. I hate to be the one to say it but it looks as though the world is staggering toward the end of this chapter."
There was a long and grim silence. It was Debbie who finally moved the conversation on to the other major puzzlement.
"Where does Mossman fit in to all this? Why did he have to be killed?"
It was a number of seconds before Lloyd-Ransom answered. Again his eyes were cold. He obviously wanted no argument.
"Mossman also decided that the end was at hand. In the past he assisted us and it was always agreed that, if the worst came, a place here was guaranteed for him and his immediate entourage. This apparently was not enough for Herbie Moss-man. Feeling that a crisis was at hand, he decided that he'd not only move into the bunker but that he'd bring in his own people and take over total control. His intention was to use his security people and his Mormon guards to stage what would have amounted to a coup here in the bunker."
The faces of the five indicated that they weren't rushing to buy Lloyd-Ransom's explanation. It was Debbie who put it into words.
"He only came in with a handful of people, how could they have posed a threat?"
"His aim was to eliminate myself, Doctor Lutesinger and most of the central command."
Lloyd-Ransom's face dissolved slightly, his determination to convince took on a tinge of holy aura.
"He would have destroyed the vision. Working together here over the last two years we have produced a vision of survival and rebuilding that we are prepared to defend to the death. We have to defend it; in the final analysis it may be the only hope of mankind. I'm not about to entrust that vision to an obese psychotic like Herbie Mossman."
Vickers experienced a chill. Lloyd-Ransom's madness went beyond marble facades and Student Prince uniforms. He was going on messianic. Eggy took a more practical approach.
"It seems that we're doing most of the defending."
"Why not? That's what you're being paid for."
Lloyd-Ransom may have found religion in the bunker but he hadn't relinquished his grasp of reality. Parkwood nodded.
"That's true enough."
"In fact, there may well be a whole lot more for you to do before this crisis is over. That's primarily why I've come down here to talk to you. There may be a time when you come to share the vision but, in the meantime, I expect all five of you to go on doing your jobs. You're my hired guns and I expect you to act accordingly. Does this cause anyone any problems?"
Nobody said a word. Lloyd-Ransom smiled. "That's good. I've always liked to work with professionals."
"So what are we supposed to do from here on in?"
"You will be my enforcers, my troubleshooters. Like it or not, you will become my ultimate goon squad. When the only solution has to be simple but drastic, you will provide it. I'm presuming that this doesn't cause any problems, either."
Again nobody spoke. Lloyd-Ransom nodded as if fairly satisfied that he had sufficient quantities of their loyalty.
"Depending on the extent of the crisis, there may be a very pressing need for drastic solutions. Apart from Mossman, it's almost certain that there are other groups and individuals who would like to take over this bunker. They are very likely to have infiltrated agents into the bunker already. As the crisis deepens, they are all going to be looking for the chance to make their moves. Our security here is the best possible, but no system can be perfect. A determined operative can always slip through the net."
Vickers did his best to keep his face expressionless. He could have sworn that Lloyd-Ransom had looked straight at him as he said the words "determined operative." Did he know or suspect something? If he did, he went on without giving any further sign.