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"What about a drink?"
It didn't do him any good. It didn't even make him feel better. The soldier who'd dragged him out of his cubicle grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved.
"Over with the others."
The shove sent him stumbling into Fenton. Side by side, the five of them eyed the soldiers and the guns that they were pointing at them. Eggy's breathing was noisily audible. It sounded like he was stewing from within. Fenton shook his head.
"I really don't want to think about this."
There was a commotion of stamping boots outside the door and a general stiffening of the soldiers in the room. The ones nearest quickly backed away as a dog handler was pulled into the room by three Dobermans. The sudden arrival of Lloyd-Ransom's dogs put a different emphasis on what was happening. Was he coming here to watch the execution or had they totally misread the situation? While they were still wondering, Anthony Lloyd-Ransom himself strolled through the door of their unit with one hand in the pocket of his immaculate uniform jodphurs. He was a picture of studied casualness as he paused to light a cigarette. He surveyed the five with a half smile.
"My chaps seem to have scared you people shitless."
Vickers realized that he couldn't hear Eggy breathing any more. He was quite surprised when Parkwood spoke up.
"It looked unca
Vickers had to hand it to him. Parkwood's voice was calm and even. He'd almost managed to sound unconcerned. Lloyd-Ransom seemed quite delighted.
"What on earth gave you the idea that I'd have you executed? I've put in a lot of time, trouble and expense to put this team together. It would hardly be rational."
It was Vickers' turn.
"Didn't things get a little irrational earlier?"
Lloyd-Ransom looked round at him with an expression of pleasant surprise. It was as though he was enjoying the spirit his hired guns were exhibiting.
"I'm sorry, what did you mean by that?"
Vickers began to get angry. It was as if Lloyd-Ransom placed them on the same level as his damned Dobermans.
"The murder of Herbie Mossman."
"You didn't find it rational?"
"The logic of it escapes me."
"Maybe you don't know all the facts."
"That's quite usual round here."
"In any case, you went along with it."
Vickers grimaced.
"That's all I did. I never fired a shot."
Lloyd-Ransom loosed a short, clipped laugh.
"That's just as well for you. The first round in your clip was an explosive charge. If you'd fired your gun, it would have cut you into two very messy halves."
Vickers was incredulous.
"What?"
"Just a little loyalty test. Technically, you're still under contract to Global."
"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 pla
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."