"You stupid bastard!" Gimli howled, windmilling his arms. "You're no better than the rest of the fucking nats! None of you!"
"Comrades, please-" Molniya began.
But Gimli wasn't listening. His face was the color of raw meat. He sent his companions flying with a heave of his shoulders and marched to Aardvark's side.
Puppetman hated to let Gimli off like this, walking away clear. He'd have to kill the evil little fuck someday.
But survival surmounted even vengeance. Puppetman's imperative was to shave the odds against him. This was the quickest way.
Tears streamed over Gimli's lumpy cheeks. "That's enough," he sobbed. "We're taking him for medical attention, and we're taking him now." He bent down and looped a limp furry arm over his neck. Shroud glanced around, eyes alert above the bandage wrap, then joined him.
Comrade Wolf blocked the door. "Nobody leaves here."
"What the fuck are you talking about, little man?" Ulrich said pugnaciously. "He's not hurt that badly."
"Who says he's not eh?" Shroud said. For the first time Hartmann realized he had a Canadian accent.
Gimli's face twisted like a rag. "That's shit. He's hurting. He's dying. Dammit, let us go."
Ulrich and Anneke were sidling for their weapons. "United we stand, brother," Wolf intoned. "Divided we fall. As you Amis say."
A double clack brought their heads around. Scrape stood by the far wall. The assault rifle he'd just cocked was pointed at the buckle of the blond terrorist's army belt. "Then maybe we just fell, comrades," he said. "Because if Gimli says we're going, we're gone."
Wolfs mouth crumpled in on itself, as if he were old and had forgotten his false teeth. He glanced at Ulrich and Anneke. They had the jokers flanked. If they all moved at once...
Clinging to one of Aardvark's wrists, Shroud brought up an AKM with his free hand. "Keep it cool, nat."
Mackie felt his hands beginning to buzz. Only the touch of Molniya's hand on his arm kept him from slicing some joker meat. Ugly monsters! I knew we couldn't trust them.
"What about the things we're working for?" the Soviet asked.
Gimli wrung Aardvark's hand. "This is what we're working for. He's a joker. And he needs help."
Comrade Wolf's face was turning the color of eggplant. Veins stood out like broken fingers on his temples. "Where do you think you're going?" he forced past grinding teeth.
Gimli laughed. "Right through the Wall. Where our friends are waiting for us."
"Then leave. Walk out on us. Walk out on the great things you were going to do for your fellow monsters. We still have the senator; we are going to win. And if we ever catch you-"
Scrape laughed. "You gonna have trouble catching your breath after this goes down. The pigs'll be crawling all over you, I guarantee. You're such total fuckups I can smell it."
Ulrich's eyes were rolling belligerently despite the rifle aimed at his midsection. "No," Molniya said. "Let them go. If we fight everything is lost."
"Get out," Wolf said.
"Yeah," Gimli said. He and Shroud gently carried Aardvark out, into the unlit hallway of the abandoned building. Scrape covered them until they were out of sight, then swiftly crossed the room. He paused, gave them as much of a smile as chitin would permit, and closed the door.
Ulrich hurled his Kalashnikov against the door. Fortunately it failed to go off. "Bastards!"
Anneke shrugged. Clearly she was bored with the psychodrama. "Americans," she said.
Mackie sidled over to Molniya. Everything seemed wrong. But Molniya would make it right. He knew he would.
The Russian ace was cake.
Ulrich swung around with his big hands tied into fists. "So what's going to happen? Huh?"
Wolf sat on a stool with his belly on his thighs and hands on his knees. He'd visibly aged as the thrill of high adventure ebbed. Perhaps the exploit he'd hoped to cap his double life with was going sour on his tongue.
"What do you mean, Ulrich?" the lawyer asked wearily. Ulrich turned him a look of outrage. "Well, I mean it's our deadline. It's ten o'clock. You heard the radio. They still haven't met our demands."
He picked up an AKM, jacked a round into the chamber. "Can't we kill the son of a bitch now?"
Anneke laughed like a ringing bell. "Your political sophistication never ceases to amaze me, lover."
Wolf hiked up the sleeve of his coat and checked his wristwatch. "What happens now is that. you, Anneke, and you, Wilfried, will go and telephone the message we agreed upon to the crisis center the authorities have so conveniently established. We've both