The Kremlin File

I needn’t have asked. The covering fire quit abruptly so it wouldn’t hit the men on the stairs. That was all the cue I needed. I heard a rush of boots as I stepped through the crenel. There was a rifle almost in my face but it wavered as the soldier humped for the next step. A burst from the machine gun blew him back into the man below. Both of them went over the edge. I sprayed the stairs, cleared it and the breakwater within range. The men beyond turned, headed back to the boats, slipping, falling, tumbling into the crafts. There wasn’t any more shooting. The flotilla withdrew around the far end of the breakwater and beached in the part of the cove where Mitzy and I had discovered each other in the salty water. It seemed a lifetime ago. I went back to Noah, crouched and lit a cigarette, one of those long, thin, good tasting joys made for me in Istanbul.

“That’s act one,” I said. “We can rest for awhile.”

“You may rest, Nick. My thanks for all you’ve done. But the siege is not broken, only halted for a short while. Jerome’s army will be back. I know my people think they have won and they expect a celebration. If they do not have one, they will accuse me of neglecting to thank the gods so that they abandon us. Then they’ll lose the will to fight again, and other battles are coming.”

Noah left me for the “victory” party, with sacred fire, drums, dancing. I divided my time between watching the ritual and checking the cove. Most of the boats were beached; it surprised me to see that the soldiers kept close to them and didn’t head for the fortress. The walkie-talkies must be burning the air with orders and counter orders.

I was looking down toward the water when a hand crept into mine, smooth, warm, tightening on my fingers. I turned my head. A girl bent over me, naked from the waist up, skin shining from the celebration dance. Her breasts swayed against my face. My breath became ragged. That wasn’t all that happened to me.

I ought to stay on watch. Nobody else was. But those damn drums were pounding in my skull. And besides, there was no action from the boats. I climbed down the ladder behind her. We came together on a soft couch of leaves, just beyond the gate.

Then it was over. Now the drums were muted. I heard a prayer in them and I felt a strange peace. I lifted the girl to her feet and we walked back, hand in hand. I left her to climb the ladder and looked through the crenel again.

The fleet was moving out into the open sea. Only one straggler was still inside the harbor maneuvering through the channel entrance.

Nuts. What the hell was happening?

I went down to talk to Noah who stood with Fleming and Tara. I gave them the news.

“Now we can spirit the doctor and the girls out of here,” I said. “With some muscle, we can run for another island where I can get word out to America to send us a plane. That way at least the doctor can stay alive for another try. And I can come back later to liquidate the colonel.”

But Fleming wouldn’t hear of it. He dug in his heels and said he’d never accept a post he owed to the United States. No planes. And no me to get rid of Jerome. I gave up, said sourly that it was his business. Mine was only to save all our hides. He and Noah could have it out while I got the wrecked boats off the rocks.

Noah chose some men to help me. The best swimmers, he said. I didn’t need swimmers. I needed a floating crane. I asked the old giant to have his men cut strong poles, and he sent them out with machetes. I used the time to learn how Mitzy was doing.

Mitzy sat where I left her, but the jeeps below were gone. Only the truck was still there. She said they’d pulled out in a bunch; the timing would make the withdrawal about the same time that the cove had emptied. I told her the boats left and so had the force on the shore highway. She looked skeptical.

“You don’t think Jerome is really giving up, do you? What’s he doing?”

I hadn’t mentioned to Noah and Fleming what I really thought. But I could talk to Mitzy.

“I’d say he’s yelling for help from Castro. You’re going to see bombers and gunboats and whatever else Russia can send by way of Cuba. I hope we won’t be here by then.” I also told her about the boats on the breakwater and that I would advise Noah to send his tribe for a vacation somewhere else as soon as we left.

She gave me a sidewise look. “Mission impossible. Good luck.”

Ten

I heard machetes chopping as I returned. Neither Noah, Tara Sawyer nor Fleming were in sight. I assumed they were in a huddle somewhere, putting pressure on the doctor to accept U.S. aid since that was the possible way he could keep Russian missiles away from Grand LaClare Island. I wished them luck, just like Mitzy had wished me.