World War III

“A helicopter.” Devenko glanced in the direction that Vorashin was staring. “Perhaps it is only passing by,” he yelled.

“In this?” Vorashin shook his head. He tightened the hood back around his face. “Any helicopter up in this area, in this weather, is not here by mistake.” He signaled his driver to stop and jumped down from the vehicle. “Extend the flank patrols, Sergei. Split the left wing in two; leapfrog them every three-quarters of a mile. Post a reinforced platoon on the forward ridge to our eastern flank where they will remain and make contact if necessary.” He’d been watching the ridge in the distance. As his glance moved to Devenko, his face was hard, unyielding. “Let us hope that our intelligence reports are correct, Major — that all we have to fear is a small company of untested militia.”

“If it is an army division, comrade Colonel, we are ready.” Devenko turned and ran back to his men, yelling instructions. The soldiers unaffected by the activity trudged silently on. Vorashin climbed back into his vehicle. He gave an anticipatory look to his radio operator.

“The aircraft is descending, Colonel,” he said. “The air surveillance team is ready to launch.”

“We wait,” Vorashin said. “If the helicopter is here only accidentally, we will know soon enough.”

“Why not fire?” Saamaretz asked anxiously. “If it is an enemy helicopter—”

“Because, Major, we must know where it is going,” Vorashin replied as if he were speaking to a first-day recruit. “If there is a land force, we must know where and what its strength is. That is why. If such a force exists, the helicopter will show us.”

“And if not?”

“Then it will be eliminated,” Vorashin said quietly, “which should please you.”

Saamaretz nodded. Then he opened his little book and made a note.

Caffey didn’t have radar and he didn’t know the chopper was coming until it was nearly on top of him.

He’d been watching the column from a prone position under a tree. Through binoculars he saw the disabled vehicle being repaired and the tall man in arctic whites who’d stepped from the command car to inspect it. He was the leader of this little expedition, Caffey was convinced. He’d watched that man only and seen the activity as the commander stared directly at him from the vehicle’s running board.

Though there was no way he could have seen him at this distance, Caffey sensed the commander knew he was there. Then soldiers on the flanks began widening their patrols. The armored vehicle that had been disabled was now running with the others. There was something urgent in the way a platoon of Pathfinders broke away and double-timed toward the point. They couldn’t have spotted his people, Caffey thought. They might be good, but they weren’t that good.

“Colonel, something’s coming,” Sgt. Parsons said, tapping him on the shoulder.

Caffey heard it as he turned his binoculars back toward the east. It was a low-flying Jet Ranger chopper, struggling against the wind, following the ridge line just above the trees.

“Oh, Jesus!” Caffey said incredulously, staring through the field glasses. “That’s a brigade chopper from… My god! It’s Roberts. It’s goddamn General Roberts! The sonofabitch is giving us away!”

The chopper headed down, lights on, beating the snow into a frenzy as it settled in a clear patch near the snowcat. The noise was deafening.

“The stupid, shit-for-brains prick!” Caffey shouted into the blinding swirl of snow. He started down the ridge, half-running, half-sliding. Over his shoulder he yelled, “Spread the men at intervals, Captain!

And for godsakes watch that fucking column!”

General Roberts was first out of the helicopter, followed quickly by two others, one of them Devery, all of them bent over, scurrying out from under the whining, decelerating rotor blade. Caffey reached them at the snowcat as they were dusting snow from their goggles and face masks. He directed his attention — his rage — toward Roberts. When he recognized Kate as one of the others his anger only increased.

“What are you doing here!” Caffey demanded loudly. He stood directly in front of Roberts. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

“I came to see your invasion force,” Roberts said matter-of-factly. He was wearing a yellow parka with his rank prominently sewn on the shoulders. “Where is it?”

“You almost landed on it, for Chrissakes!” Caffey glanced at Kate. “They didn’t know we were here two minutes ago. Why didn’t you just drop some flares while you—”

“You don’t talk like that to me, Colonel!” Roberts exploded.

“Didn’t you see it? — the column?”

“We didn’t see a goddamn thing! Where are your Russians?”

Caffey pointed to the ridge. It was his second choice of action. Punching General Roberts was the first.

“You can see the column from up there. Did you bring any weapons?”

“Weapons?” Roberts stared back at him blankly.

“You came all the way out here without—” Caffey swore violently.

“Look, here, Colonel—”

“No, you look, General.” Caffey handed him his binoculars. He nodded over his shoulder toward the ridge. “Up there.”