Charles Taylor - First Salvo

“What I am forced to do is not very appealing.”

“I don’t follow you.” He thought he knew what she meant, but he had to be sure.

“I am one of his whores,” she spat. “He likes me. Keradin, he calls me one of his favorites.” Her eyes narrowed and her full lips became a narrow line. “I will do anything that might get me out of here. I have even hoped that if I please him enough, perhaps he will take me back to Moscow with him. It would be easier to escape from there than this place.”

Cobb straightened momentarily. “I’ll take you if you help me, yes.” He’d said it. Would he regret such a decision again?

Her expression changed now. She had figured out Cobb long before he’d realized how weak his disguise actually was. The moment she decided he might be something other than what he admitted to, she had decided to take her chances with him.

“I’ll do what you want.” Her expression changed again. “But I wish I could cut off that son of a bitch’s balls before we go.” Her tone was vicious — definitely a woman to have on his side.

“You just may have that opportunity.” Cobb grinned at her. “But not until you’re given permission. I think I’ll need more help than I realized.”

“You, are quite brave to come in here like this — and most foolish to think you could get away with it for long. Who are you really, Cobb?”

“Does it matter right now?”

“Later, maybe, yes. Right now, no. Anything would have to be better than servicing that beast.”

“Is he really a beast?”

“No. He is a very brilliant man — and very dangerous. He shows a certain amount of respect for the women he uses like toys. But,” and she looked hard at him, “I am a lady, not a field hand.”

Thank God he’d met this girl. Without her perhaps he’d have had no opportunity to get to Keradin. “I’m going to need more help than you want to offer,” he said tentatively.

“Will it get me out of here?”

“If I get out, you will. But we must do it tonight.”

“It has to do with Keradin?”

He nodded. “Keradin and you.”

She smiled grimly. “I guess one more of his evenings won’t be the end of the world. Perhaps,” she offered, “I can stall him long enough and you can move fast enough in whatever you want to do that I can postpone him indefinitely.”

“That would be up to you. I’m afraid I can’t help in that regard.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“On the contrary. I’m going to take him with us.”

“Take him?” She spat. “He will go with us — with me?”

“I’m afraid that’s part of the deal. I need your help. But apparently you need mine more.”

She said nothing, moving down the row of vines, selecting and cutting at random. “You are an American, Cobb?”

He nodded in answer.

“A spy?”

“Not really. Does it matter?”

“No. Once again, it doesn’t matter. But I like to know who I am forced to put faith in. How do you want me to arrange this little tryst?”

“How does he choose?”

“We think just when the spirit hits him. He usually comes to us, or sends one of his men at the end of the day or after dinner, perhaps when he has had a little to drink.”

“Is your basket full?”

“Enough so, I guess.”

“Come on.” Cobb jerked his head in the direction of the cistern. They went over to it, and he dipped the wooden bucket, filling it to the brim, and handed it to her. “Pour this over your face and chest — not in your hair. We don’t want you looking straggly. Just enough to appeal to him.” She did as she was told. The cool water cleansed her face, bringing color to her cheeks. And the water over the peasant blouse accomplished exactly what he had hoped. It clung to her tightly like a second skin, emphasizing a better figure than he’d assumed earlier. She looked down at herself, blushing. “This is what you want?”

“Let’s hope it’s what General Keradin wants. Come on. He said he’d be there now.”

Her movement down the slope accomplished what he had hoped. She moved with a sensuous gait that was appealing even at the end of a workday in her soiled peasant clothes. She was, Cobb decided, a most desirable woman.

“Keep it up,” he said admiringly. “You may be your own best ticket out of here. Stay well ahead of me. We don’t want anyone to get the slightest idea we’ve even seen each other.”

He would have to trust to pure, dumb luck as far as Verra was concerned. He’d told her only to get Keradin into his room as early that night as possible, that he’d take care of whatever would happen. If nothing did, then she was no worse off. At least no one would know she had ever spoken with him. But as he trudged tiredly down the slope, there was the foreman, slightly withdrawn from the others as he stood near the crushing shed, hands on his hips, waiting. The man seemed not to notice Verra as she passed by. Keradin did see her and without hesitation was at her side. She seemed to be cementing her part of the arrangement with little effort. However, Cobb’s end of the deal appeared to be in trouble as the foreman moved out to intercept him before he could dump his basket.

The foreman, a product of GRU training, was most unhappy at that moment. General Keradin had inquired about the new man, the one who knew so much about the time for the sweet wines. The foreman’s knowledge of grapes and wine-making had given him this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work for the head of the Strategic Rocket Forces, one of the most influential men in the Kremlin. But his future success depended more on his security measures than it did on his skills with the grape. The peasants he employed were prized for their closed mouths. The workers were allowed out of their barracks only during working hours, and they never spoke out of turn. There were no labor problems at Keradin’s dacha.

“I hired no such person, General,” he’d responded earlier. “I believe it was my assistant who canvassed the neighboring villages for more help during the harvest.” It was a weak excuse, for the foreman was supposed to know the name of every person in the compound, every event that occurred. “At times like this, with the grapes so close, I make sure we put on some extra men for a day or two,” he said, shrugging knowingly. “Sometimes we have luck, I guess, and someone like this Berezin appears. But, General, please let me talk with this man first — it is my responsibility.”

Now when he noticed Keradin in conversation with one of his women, the foreman moved out to intercept Cobb. “I want to speak to you,” he hissed quietly, grasping the other firmly by the arm. “Give your basket to this man to empty.” And when they were out of hearing of everyone else, he demanded, “Who brought you here?”

“I came in this morning with the other workers, sir.” Cobb remained as respectful as he felt a guilty peasant might act, one who was poverty stricken and willing to do almost anything for a job. “I have had no work for so long. My children are hungry. Some people said there might be work here during the harvest.”

“What people?”

“Oh, just people I talk to.” He named some of the neighboring villages where he was sure some of the field hands lived. “Please, sir, I thought that maybe if I came here, showed you how hard I work, you might be kind.” He was whining now. “Let me start at low pay.”

“You should know that’s not the way things are done around here.” He maintained his grip on Cobb’s arm, the pressure increasing.

“I know, sir. I know.” Cobb remained subservient, eyes blinking nervously, hands wringing. “My children, they need food,” he repeated. “Please. I will show you how hard I work for beginning wages.”