Charles Taylor - First Salvo

All is not well among the chiefs , Cobb thought, trying not to think about the barrel he had just appropriated. Remembering the foreman’s suspicions, he wondered at the hatred and distrust among men who worked so close together. The man wandered back to the front porch, taking his time, looking from side to side. He stopped, turned, and looked back at the barrel as if he hadn’t remembered it being there. Muttering something under his breath that Cobb could not hear, he finally sauntered back inside. Cobb waited to make sure the man did not return to consider the barrel further, then slipped out from behind the bushes. He rolled it toward the balcony, awkwardly trying to grasp it only at the top end, the still-dry part. But he quickly admitted that he couldn’t get a good hold on it that way. What’s a little used vodka? he thought.

He turned the barrel on end at one corner of the balcony, then crept backward to survey the building once more. The lights were now off on both sides of Keradin’s room. That meant that one was being used and the other… more than likely they were also indisposed.

Standing on the barrel, he grasped the edge of the balcony. Silently swinging up with his feet, he knelt momentarily on the edge, then pulled himself up slowly, peering over the railing. There was a light on inside, but curtains were drawn on this end. He pulled himself very carefully over the railing until both feet were planted on the deck. Then he dropped to his knees and crawled to the other end of the balcony.

Just as Verra had promised, the sliding glass door was ajar, open about three inches. He could hear voices inside. Listening, he identified both hers and Keradin’s. The sentences were short and sharp. Her voice rose, followed by his. They were arguing — and that wasn’t part of Cobb’s plan. She was supposed to keep him occupied, not angered. He put his ear close to the opening and listened.

Keradin had an extraordinary sexual imagination, especially when describing his own prowess. But tonight, whatever he suggested, Verra would not go along. Soon Keradin was whining, wheedling, but she would still not cooperate.

Obviously, Cobb realized, Verra was distracting him so he wouldn’t be watching the curtains. Stealthily, not moving the cloth more than a centimeter at a time, he pulled back the curtain until one eye peered into the room. Indeed, Verra had insured that Keradin was indisposed. He was buck naked. In his hand was a camera that looked very much like one of those instant developers which were so hard to obtain in the Soviet Union. It was easy to understand what he had in mind and obvious why Verra was protesting.

It was also obvious why she had become the general’s favorite. Her hair was swept up. She was perfectly made up and she wore expensive, ornate jewelry. But that was all. Cobb was sure he had never seen a more gorgeous woman.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed. The general was a few feet away from her with his camera, trying to convince her to pose. She would have nothing to do with him. While he pleaded, she looked down at the floor or in the direction of the curtain as if she was hoping Cobb would burst through in that instant and come to her rescue.

But Cobb waited. He had to be sure that Keradin was totally occupied with his own pleading rather than with where her eyes were roaming. Once Cobb was satisfied, he moved the curtain ever so slightly when she looked in his direction, just enough so that she would know it wasn’t the evening breeze. She saw the motion, he was sure, but gave no indication of it. She looked down at the floor again, then back in his direction. Again, Cobb moved the curtain, this time keeping his eye there. She saw it, nodded slightly, and looked back at the floor.

What the hell do I do now? Cobb wondered. The argument renewed. It was finally settled when Keradin agreed that he would pose for her first and then she would reciprocate. A clever girl! Cobb thought.

She offered a number of suggestions for poses, each of which met with an argument from the General. But when it was made clear that her poses would be definitely determined by what he agreed to, the man had no choice. First the general placed a bedside table on top of the mattress. Then he climbed precariously on top of it, his head scant inches from the ceiling. Verra tossed him his hat, which he put on after much discussion. Cobb was about to enter at this point when he thought better of it. The man was still in a position where he could move fast.

The next pose was more to Cobb’s liking, with Keradin lying on his back on the table. This would be it , Cobb thought. When the general appeared the most uncomfortable, Cobb moved quickly into the room, sliding the door shut behind him with one hand, the other holding the gun steadily on the prone general.

Keradin remained motionless, his eyes moving from the girl to Cobb and back again.

“There were a couple of times I wondered,” she said, still standing in the same spot with her camera. “It seemed you were never going to show up.”

“I appreciate your professionalism,” Cobb answered. “Nice pose.”

“Can I cut his balls off now?” she hissed.

Keradin’s eyes settled on Cobb. Still no expression. He was a tough man.

“No, not now, not unless we have to. I would like him in one piece. But if there’s the slightest doubt, then, yes, you may.” He made sure the general absorbed that.

“He’s dangerous, you know,” she said.

“He doesn’t appear to be now.” Cobb grinned. The general said nothing, still motionless. It seemed best to keep him in that position for the time being. Cobb turned to Verra. “Put on your clothes.”

As she dressed, Keradin’s eyes never left Cobb, watching his every move, waiting perhaps, Cobb thought, for me to do something dumb, perhaps leer at the girl. One should always enjoy a beautiful woman’s nudity — but the alternative here wasn’t nearly as pleasurable. He must realize that I am not the little old wine maker he thought he’d found, and certainly not an enemy from Moscow . They wouldn’t do it this way.

Once dressed, Verra went through the general’s clothes without a word from Cobb. Neatly hung over the chair was the man’s holster, belt, and gun. “What do you want to do with this?”

“Strap it around my waist, gun over the left hip, butt forward. You can have this one when we’re ready.”

In the general’s dresser she found a slender but deadly looking knife in an ornate sheath. Removing it, she stroked the blade thoughtfully, looking Keradin up and down as she did so.

“Are you planning to kill me?” Keradin inquired. He spoke in a normal voice, though his eyes were now on the knife.

“Not unless it’s absolutely necessary,” Cobb answered. “As far as she’s concerned,” he inclined his head toward Verra, “I’m going to try to convince her not to either. I can’t swear that I can keep her from using the knife,” he added.

From the look in Keradin’s eyes, he seemed to share Cobb’s concern. “May I get up and get dressed?”

“You may get up, very carefully. Roll off that table, slowly, onto the bed. Once you’re there, I’ll tell you when you can stand up.”

The general did just as he was instructed, bouncing slightly as he landed on the mattress, rolling over, then watching Cobb, silently.

“Good. Now slide toward me until your feet are on the floor.” It was an odd sight, the naked man moving as though he were fully clothed, seemingly unconcerned with his own nakedness. As his feet touched the floor, his hand snaked out, grabbing a leg of the table still on the bed. In one fluid motion, he was on his feet, heaving it in Cobb’s direction. But Cobb was a split second ahead of him, and ducked. The table passed a fraction of an inch from his head, crashing against the wall. As Keradin lunged toward him, Cobb stepped slightly to one side, slashing the gun barrel across the man’s cheek. Keradin looked up from the floor at Cobb with an astonished look on his face. He felt the welt on his cheek and stared at the blood that covered his hand when he pulled it away.