James Rouch - Body Count

Revell considered telling him about the shelter with its suffocated inmates, but decided against it. Soon enough he would learn the death toll was well into the thousands.

The ambulance departed with its overburdened escort vehicle. As it left a police crew bus arrived with a motorcycle escort.

“I suppose you’ll be kicking your heels for a while.” Gebert went to board the vehicle. “Until they find some routine task for you.”

“I expect so.” Revell knew that to be more than likely. “In the minds of a lot of the military — even outfits like SAS and Delta Force — we’re considered to be no better than a private army.”

“Then if I ever need one, I’D know where to come, will I not” Revell watched Gebert depart on the next stage of his inspection tour. He didn’t envy the mayor. When all this was over, there were going to be a lot of people wise after the event. Mostly it would be those who were out of town, or who, now skulking in the recesses of a deep shelter, would appoint themselves as critical analysts of what had happened.

Heads would roll, both among the military and political circles, where blame could thought to be attached. Only the administrators would escape the condemnation that would follow the inquest likely to be conducted by the media. Snug in their town hall offices, exempt from military service, comfortable with the expectation of their indexed pensions, they would ride out the storm of criticism.

Checking in by radio, Revell was told only to stand by. For what, or when any task could be expected, he wasn’t informed.

“Sgt. Hyde.” Well if they were going to be kept hanging about, there was no reason why they couldn’t do it with a degree of comfort. “Find us a decent hotel. There’s no point in us bumbling about when we’re not wanted. We’ll only get our heads shot off. Let’s put our feet up for a while.”

“This lot gets too comfortable, Major, they’ll probably fall asleep. It’ll be a hell of job waking them.”

“That’s a chance I’ll take. Make it somewhere close at hand. Don’t consult Ackerman though. My stomach is still rebelling over that food at the restaurant he found.”

Sitting on the hood of the abandoned police car, Revell took off his helmet and fingered the long crease in the layered material. The high velocity round had cut a neat furrow in it.

It wasn’t the first time one had come that close. With luck, though it might be the last in Munich.

From the rooftop restaurant, Revell had a panoramic view of the city. Most of it was blacked out still, but here and there an imperfectly curtained window let slip a sliver of light.

And there were the fires. He counted at least eight. While most showed as no more than a glow over the rooftops, there was a large conflagration in the general direction of the fairground. If indeed it was some or all of the rides and sideshows that were going up, the mass of painted and varnished wood would make for a spectacular blaze.

Down in the streets there was more traffic than he might have expected. Fire engines, ambulances, and police cars made up a large part of it. There were military vehicles also. Mostly it was armoured cars, but he saw a couple of wheeled APC’s and a single self-propelled gun.

That unwieldy monster was making slow progress, and was led and flanked by a large number of military police Hummers and motorcycles. Revell watched it until it was out of sight.

“If they try using that, the repair bill is going to be higher.” Andrea straddled a chair and began to pull the well-crisped skin off of a drumstick.

“The threat of its employment should be sufficient. I imagine it’ll be used to winkle out the last stubborn few.”

They were alone. None of the others had bothered to take the lift to the top floor. In all the hotel they had encountered only two staff — a pair of hopelessly inebriated waiters — in the cocktail bar. With no doors locked the rest of the men had found all that they needed on the ground floor.

Revell remembered another time, when he had stood looking out over another city. That had been Hamburg, from the top of the television tower. Then his companion had been another beautiful woman, Inga.

Hamburg had been destroyed when the Zone had rolled forward to surround and engulf it. Inga had died with the city. He wondered if Andrea ever thought of Hamburg, as he so often did. It was she who had discovered that Inga was a Russian agent… and killed her.

“What are you thinking?”

He’d never expected her to ask him that. His instinctive reaction was to think of something, anything, rather than what had been in his mind. Then he rejected that. “I was thinking of Hamburg…”

“And the girl Inga?”

“Yes, I was. We stood and looked out at the city, just like this.”

“You know I killed her.”

Andrea’s tone was flat, emotionless. He wondered if she was trying to goad some reaction from him. If so, she would fail. The event was long in the past, the thought of it did not touch him anymore.

“Why do you think I killed her?”

Again a question he could not have anticipated. She was acting very differently tonight. Had she been drinking, before joining him up here? There was no way he could tell, unless he detected it on her breath. In the past though, alcohol had made her even more withdrawn than her usual taciturn self.

“You found out that she was an agent. I know that. With your hatred of all things communist, did you need any other reason?”

Down in the street, a Marder tracked APC trundled past. Its commander was risking using dipped headlights. That could be a fatal mistake Revell thought, with enemy snipers in action. But then the Marder had decent armoured protection, at least against small-arms fire. The commander would have to stay closed down though. Even with all the sophisticated night vision devices he had available, that still brought other penalties… Revell realized he was deliberately letting his mind be sidetracked, avoiding the conversation, trying not to hear her words.

“I enjoyed killing her, but not just because of what she was. She told me all of the things you had done together. I made her. Have I told you that before? I think the drinking I have done has affected my memory, but I am not drunk now.”

Revell turned to her, and found she was looking at him. “Was Sophia right about you? Or are you just a frustrated cock-teaser?”

“Perhaps I am a lesbian. When I was quite young, I had a special friend. She used to stay at my house at weekends. We would share a bed. I liked her touching me, and I did the same for her.”

“Why all the soul-baring?” Her conversation was so unlike any he’d ever had with her, he felt out of his depth.

“That I cannot tell you, because I do not know. I just felt I had to talk. As I know how you feel about me, I thought you would at least listen, without reacting to the sexual arousal you might experience at such a conversation.”

“I am human. Why do you think I would have more control than any other man?”

“Oh, I am not talking about control.” Andrea undid her belt. “Self-discipline I would expect you to have.” She unfastened her jacket. “You will not grab me because I am a dream you have. Touch me, yes. Watch me masturbate, yes. But to go all the way?”

Revell didn’t take his eyes off her as she removed her jacket and threw it carelessly across a smart table setting.

“If you do that, what other dream do you have to replace it? You are a soldier, your battles are fought in the Zone, most of the time.” Andrea glanced out at the city. “For you there is no dream of comfortable retirement. You will not live to pensionable age, and you know it. So you made me your dream, your something to look forward to.”