Charles Taylor - First Salvo

“Someone will come — all that noise,” Verra said, the first sign of fear in her eyes.

Cobb looked down at the general. Behind the pain in his eyes was a triumphant expression, as if Keradin knew he had won, whether or not Cobb had knocked him to the floor.

“The knife,” said Cobb. “Use it if you have to.”

Before Keradin fully understood what was implied, Verra was on her knees beside him, the blade of the knife nestled in his crotch. Honest fear shone in Keradin’s eyes.

Cobb waited. The response was quick. There was pounding at the door. Voices outside called Keradin’s name.

Cobb dropped to his knees, whispering close to the man’s face, “Answer them. Laugh, tell them it’s all right.” Keradin looked stubbornly at him. Cobb turned slightly to Verra, then back to the General.

“Everything is all right,” Keradin answered. “Nothing to worry about.”

“What happened?” a voice responded, not satisfied.

“It is very personal, tell them,” Cobb whispered. “You can explain everything in the morning. You’re having a wonderful time and it will make a funny story.” Keradin hesitated again. Cobb got to his feet. “If he doesn’t do what he’s told by the time I count to three,” he said to Verra, “he’s all yours.”

Keradin looked down at the knife. Verra moved it slightly, enough for Keradin to get the message that she would enjoy carrying it through. “I will have to tell you all about it in the morning,” Keradin shouted. “You’ll all be amused. But, please, I am occupied now.” He finished with a suggestive laugh.

Outside the closed door, male laughter answered. Voices called a pleasant good night to the general as they drifted down the hallway. Keradin looked down at the knife. Verra hadn’t moved it. He looked up at Cobb.

“A deal’s a deal.” Cobb grinned at her appreciatively. “I can’t let you scare him to death. I still have a job to do.” She removed the knife, slipping it back in its sheath and dropping it inside her blouse. Cobb had the general’s gun holstered around his waist. He handed Verra the Makarov. “Remember, if there’s any problem, anything that he could have saved us from, the first shot is for him.” He looked at Keradin. “You understand?”

The general nodded. “Where are you taking me?”

“It doesn’t matter. Put on your shoes and socks.”

The general indicated the rest of his clothing hanging over the chair.

Cobb shook his head. “You’re traveling incognito tonight. All I’m worried about is your feet.” He indicated to the girl. “Make a little roll for him — shorts, shirt, pants — just in case there’s a delay. I wouldn’t want to lose him to pneumonia. He’ll carry his clothes himself and like it.” And to Keradin: “Remember, the first bullet will be for you. But if I have time, even just a few seconds, I will let her use her knife. Any questions?”

Keradin shook his head. Cobb explained to both of them how they would get out of the dacha and away from the area. There was no reason to explain yet where they would go afterward.

Even the most jaded observer would have found humor in the departure of a well-dressed woman, followed by a naked man, followed by a peasant. After lowering themselves from the balcony to the barrel to the ground, they walked to the main gate. Verra’s knife was once again pressed against the general to assure his silence.

The gate was the easiest method of escape. Electrically controlled from the inside by the guard, it could not be opened from the outside, and apparently security had not considered the possibility of someone escaping from the inside of General Keradin’s compound. As a result, there was only one guard there, whom Cobb had watched for a while from his position inside the crusher. He was by himself and likely bored. Cobb disposed of him quickly. Having seen earlier where the controls were, he opened the gate just the slightest bit to allow them to slip through. Taking the guard’s body with him, he dumped it in the bushes on the opposite side of the road. He knew that sooner or later the man would be missed, the gate found ajar, and then Keradin’s absence would be noted. However, it seemed unlikely to him that they would be discovered missing in such a short time, and assuming luck was with them and Lassiter appeared as planned, things should turn out well.

The naked general preceded the other two, following directions as Cobb dictated them, taking the same path Cobb used when he came into the area. The road between Yalta and Alushta was mainly dirt, and it carried more horse- or ox-drawn carts than motorized vehicles. At night, it was deserted. Only peasants ever used it, and nowhere but home existed for them after dark. Twice the general indicated how chilled he was becoming, but each time Cobb decided that he would be more obedient if he was cold.

They left the road close to the spot where Cobb had climbed up from the sea the night before. “Give him his underwear for the time being.”

“Why?”

“The undergrowth — he’ll hurt himself.”

“So?”

“He’ll slow us down. We don’t have time.”

“For what?” she persisted.

“We are not staying in the Crimea, believe me.”

He could sense her happiness even in the dark. “That’s all I wanted to know. I thought — oh, forget it,” she said, handing Keradin his underwear, then giggling at the ludicrous sight of his putting it on.

Cobb led them down through the underbrush, halting at a point about fifty yards above the water’s edge. Here he had a view of the shore to either side, yet they could not be detected by anyone who chanced to wander nearby.

For the first time, Keradin spoke. “May I ask where you are taking me, and why you are doing so?” Since the moment Cobb had appeared quite suddenly in his bedroom, the general had heard only Russian spoken. He knew nothing other than that Cobb, supposedly a Georgian, seemed to know a great deal about wine. Though the girl was Polish, it was obvious that this man was not. They left no doubt about their willingness to kill him, if necessary. Even worse, from Keradin’s point of view, was the man’s willingness to set the girl loose with her knife. If he were to die, he far preferred a bullet.

“It’s not important where you’re going,” Cobb told him. “That you’ll see for yourself.”

“Are you holding me for ransom?”

“You’ll see. But I don’t think your friends want you back anyway. They’d never know how much you might have spilled to us. Better alive with us than dead with them.”

The underbrush was covered with a light dew. The dampness in the air added to the chill. “May I put on some clothes?” Keradin persisted.

“No. I want to make it as easy as possible for her to operate on you if I decide it’s necessary. Did I tell you how good she is with that knife before we left?” Keradin said nothing more, but his teeth chattered. Cobb had no idea whether it was the cold or the prospect of Verra’s knife.

They waited silently. Verra’s eyes never left the general. Keradin looked up every few moments but eventually gave up when he realized she was as alert as ever. The minutes passed with an agonizing slowness for each of them. The girl was anxious, the general apprehensive, Cobb just a slight bit concerned that Lassiter might have run into trouble.

But a half hour before midnight, he saw the light come on briefly out at sea then search the water as if a fisherman were putting something over the side. Before it was extinguished, it blinked in their direction three times. To an observer on the beach, it would have appeared casual. Keradin, who had been following Cobb’s eyes, saw it and murmured to himself. He knew he was going to sea.

They relaxed for a few more moments before Cobb said, “All right. Down to the waterline. We have an appointment.” Soon a small black boat appeared out of the darkness. Its electric motor made no noise and neither Keradin nor the girl knew what to expect until it loomed before them.