Уильям Дитц - Seek and Destroy

“Each tattoo shares common elements with all the rest,” Jebe explained. “Yet each is unique. Like pieces in a vast puzzle.”

Victoria was beginning to take the horde more seriously by then. She’d been expecting to deal with a wacky bandit cult. But Jebe was more than a thug. Was he the exception? Or should she take all of them seriously? Victoria would know soon. And the knowledge would go into her report.

Victoria didn’t see much traffic during the forty-minute trip to Buffalo. And that wasn’t surprising given the things she did see. At one point, they passed an off-ramp where three bird-pecked corpses were dangling from a light standard. When asked why the people had been executed, Jebe shrugged. “There are laws,” he said. “And they were lawbreakers.”

Victoria was pretty sure Jebe didn’t have the foggiest idea why the people had been executed. Nor did he care. And that was the flip side of the man behind the wheel. Though seemingly profound at times, he wasn’t very analytical.

If the horde continued to rule with an iron hand, the locals would find ways to resist, one of which would be to collaborate with Union forces. So while Howard was likely to rule for a while—he would have trouble holding on to what he’d conquered. As a result, his value to the Confederacy was limited.

They had to pause at a checkpoint just outside Buffalo but not for long. Once Jebe presented his palm, a guard bowed and waved him through. Mountains were visible to the west. And, based on what she’d heard earlier, Victoria assumed that they were home to the High Fort.

That theory proved to be correct when Jebe left the freeway for a two-lane highway that led into the Bighorn National Forest. Even though there was no reason for her to believe that she would need to find her way out of the forest alone, Victoria did her best to memorize the route just in case. The road turned, began to climb, and passed a snow-clad gun emplacement. Three skull-faced bandits stood like statues as the truck passed them. Victoria noticed that one of them was armed with a spear.

A series of switchbacks took them up past a well-sited Bradley to what Jebe said was the final checkpoint. It consisted of what looked like a new metal gate mounted on wheels. “We have to walk the rest of the way,” Jebe said, as the pickup came to a halt. “The guards will take your pistol—and return it when you leave.”

The process went the way Jebe said it would except for one thing. The guard assigned to search Victoria was male—and took full advantage of the opportunity to feel her up. Fortunately, Jebe was there to intervene. “Stop it! She’s Subutai’s guest, you fool… He’ll take your head.”

The man immediately released her, bowed, and backed away. “I’m sorry,” Jebe said, as they climbed a set of switchbacking stairs. “Subutai doesn’t get a lot of female visitors.”

“I can see why,” Victoria said, as they arrived on what had been a lawn. The mansion loomed above them. It had turrets, steeply sloping roofs, and at least half a dozen chimneys. A well-protected porch fronted the building. Everything about the lodge shouted elegance, even if the place had fallen on hard times. But something bothered her. “Union forces could destroy this place with a single plane… or a couple of drones. Why don’t they?”

“We keep prisoners here,” Jebe answered. “Some are sold, but new ones arrive. The Union Army knows that.”

The strategy made sense so long as the Union brass had a certain mind-set. But Victoria knew that if her father were running the Union Army, he’d bomb the shit out of the place and blame faulty intelligence for the civilian deaths.

They walked past a crudely constructed AA emplacement, past a pile of trash, and through an impromptu graveyard. “The men buried here have lived many lives and been buried in many places,” Jebe said. “They’ll be waiting when my turn comes.”

Was Jebe crazy? Hell, yes. And that’s what Robin and her battalion would have to face if they wanted to defeat the horde. An army of crazy people. Good luck with that, Victoria thought to herself.

Victoria followed Jebe up a flight of snow-dusted stairs into an enormous foyer. It was crowded with people. Some were seated on chairs, some were standing, and one man was asleep on the muddy floor. The air was so cold that Victoria could see her breath. “They’re waiting to see Subutai,” Jebe explained. “Some have been here for days. But don’t worry… He will see you soon.” And with that, he left.

“Soon,” turned out to be half an hour. And as Victoria listened to the chatter around her, she got the impression of a thinly stretched government run by a paranoid micromanager. Not a recipe for success. Something more for her report.

Victoria could feel jealous eyes on her back, as Jebe returned and led her away. After climbing a flight of stairs, they had to pass between heavily armed guards before entering what had been a ballroom. Groups of men stood here and there… There was no way to tell if they were guards or part of Subutai’s retinue. The only women to be seen were servants, who kept their eyes down as they brought food and drink.

Victoria felt a momentary wash of heat as they passed a large fireplace. Then the air cooled as they followed a red carpet up to a velvet rope, where Jebe bowed deeply. “Greetings, great one… This is the New Confederacy’s emissary, Major Jeri Ferris.”

Rather than use her own name, Victoria had chosen to establish a cover which, if Howard had the means to check, ran quite deep. He was sitting on a throne-like chair made out of antlers. Had the piece of furniture been built for him? Or did it come with the lodge? The latter, Victoria supposed… Although the look was very much in keeping with the man Howard had chosen to be.

The warlord of warlords was wearing a softly rounded Afghan pakoz hat rather than the Mongol equivalent. Victoria knew because she’d spent a year battling the Taliban. Was the hat a mistake? Or a preference? The latter seemed more likely since she’d read his file and knew that he had served in Afghanistan, too. The rest of Howard’s outfit consisted of a sheepskin jacket, Levi’s, and cowboy boots. Howard was clearly Caucasian, but his wide-set eyes and high cheekbones gave him a Slavic appearance. A wispy mustache decorated his upper lip.

A pair of Rottweilers lay sprawled next to the warlord’s elaborate chair. One of them growled, and Howard patted its head. “Welcome to the High Fort, Major Macintyre… I hope you had a pleasant trip.”

The extent of Victoria’s surprise must have been visible on her face because Howard laughed. “That’s right, Major… I have sources of information inside the Confederacy.”

Victoria’s mind was racing. Howard had been a Green Beret only months earlier… So he knew special ops people in both armies. More than that, he had bled with them. So if some were on his payroll, that would make sense. What did that mean to her mission?

Howard nodded as if able to read her mind. “Never fear, Major… I don’t blame you for using a cover. I would if I were in your position. And one more thing… The fact that General Macintyre was willing to send his daughter means a lot to me. But it raises questions, too… What are you, Major? A warrior? Or Daddy’s girl?”

Victoria could feel the man’s hostility. At officers? At female officers? Is that why he referred to her rank so often? “I fought in Afghanistan,” Victoria answered. “Just as you did.”

There was no warmth in Howard’s smile. “You read my file? Good on you. Well, there were a shitload of rear-echelon motherfuckers who went to Afghanistan and never fired a shot. How ’bout you , missy? Did you kill anyone up close and personal? Or were you staring at a screen?”