Red storm rising - By Tom Clancy Page 0,311

said quietly when it was finished.

"He thought we already knew."

Colonel Lowe stooped down and picked up a rock. He hefted it in his hand for a moment, then hurled it as hard as he could. "Why not? We assume the KGB is competent, why should they assume that we're not! We had the information all along... and we blew it!" His voice was full of wonder and disgust. "You sure this isn't a cock-and-bull story?"

"When we pulled him out of the water, he had a nasty cut on the leg. The docs sewed that up and gave him pain pills. I caught him weak from blood loss, and pretty well juiced on codeine. Kinda hard to lie well when you're drunk, isn't it? Chuck, I really need your opinion."

"Trying to land me back in the intel business?" Lowe smiled briefly. "Bob, it makes a hell of a lot of sense. This should go up the ladder fast."

"I think SACEUR should get it."

"You can't just call up for an appointment, Bob."

"I can go through COMEASTLANT. The original goes to Washington. CIA will want to use a voice-stress-analysis machine on it. But I saw the man's eyes, Chuck."

"I agree. It should go to the top as fast as you can get it there--and SACEUR can make the fastest use of it."

"Thanks, Colonel. How do I call the chopper back?"

"I'll handle that. Welcome to Iceland, by the way."

"How's it going?" Toland followed the colonel back to the tent.

"We're up against good troops, but they have a tough defensive problem here, and we have all the firepower we need. We got 'em by the ass!" The colonel paused. "Nice work, Squid!"

Two hours later, Toland was aboard a plane bound for Heath-row.

MOSCOW, R.S.F.S.R.

The briefing was given by Marshal Fyodr Borissovich Bukharin. The KGB had arrested Marshals Shavyrin and Rozhkov the day before, a move that told Minister Sergetov more than this briefing ever would.

"The attack west from Alfeld has bogged down due to poor planning and execution by Commander-in-Chief West. We need to regain the initiative. Fortunately we have the troops available, and nothing changes the fact that NATO has suffered grievous losses.

"I propose replacement of the Western Theater command staff and--"

"Wait. I wish to say something," Sergetov interrupted.

"Make your point, Mikhail Eduardovich," the Defense Minister said, his annoyance clear.

"Marshal Bukharin, you propose complete staff replacement?" The practical consequences to the replacees was unspoken, Sergetov thought, but plain enough.

"My son is on the staff of the Deputy Commander West, General Alekseyev. This general is the one who led the breakthrough at Alfeld, and the one at Ruhle! He's been wounded twice and had his helicopter shot down by enemy fighters--after which he commandeered a truck and raced to the front to lead yet another successful attack. He's the only effective general we have that I know of, and you want to replace him with someone unfamiliar with the situation--what madness is this?" he asked angrily. The Minister of the Interior leaned forward.

"Just because your son is on his staff--"

Sergetov's face went beet-red. " 'Just because my son,' you say? My son is at the front, serving the State. He's been wounded, and barely escaped death when he was shot down at his general's side. Who else at this table can say that, Comrades? Where are your sons?" He pounded on the table in rage. Sergetov concluded in a softer voice, wounding his colleagues in a way that mattered, really mattered: "Where are the Communists here?"

There was a brief but deadly silence. Sergetov knew that he had either ended his political career or boosted it beyond measure. His fate would be decided by whoever spoke next.

"In the Great Patriotic War," Pyotr Bromkovskiy said with an old man's dignity, "Politburo members lived at the front. Many lost sons. Even Comrade Stalin gave his sons to the State, serving alongside the sons of ordinary workers and peasants. Mikhail Eduardovich speaks well. Comrade Marshal, your evaluation of General Alekseyev, if you please? Is Comrade Sergetov correct in his assessment?"

Bukharin looked uneasy. "Alekseyev is a young, bright officer, and, yes, he has done fairly well at his present post."

"But you wish to replace him with one of your own people?" Bromkovskiy didn't wait for an answer. "It is amazing, the things we learn and the things we forget. We forget that it is necessary for all Soviet citizens to share the burden together--but we remember the mistakes made in 1941, arresting good officers because their superiors erred, and replacing them