The Survivalist 02 - The Nightmare Begins (20 page)

Rourke punched the muzzle of the revolver against Karamatsov's temple, rasping in English, "Tell them—now!"

In Russian, the voice edged and trembling with rage, Karamatsov commanded, "Do as this man tells you—that is my order."

"Wonderful," Rourke whispered to Karamatsov. "Now—tell them to get out of here and clear the corridor. In about two minutes you and I are walking out of here and the first man I see with a gun means you're a dead man—got me?"

Karamatsov said nothing, then Rourke pushed the muzzle of the revolver harder against the KGB man's head, repeating, "Got me?"

"Yes—yes—I understand." Then, in Russian, Karamatsov repeated Rourke's instructions. One of the soldiers started to say something and Rourke increased the pressure of the little Smith

& Wesson's muzzle against Karamatsov's temple, and Karamatsov shouted something Rourke didn't quite understand, but the soldier fell silent and all four men left.

"You're being real good, Vladmir—I'm proud of you," Rourke said softly, the gun still at the Russian's head. "Now—where are my guns—be quick about it!"

"In the closet," Karamatsov said.

"Fine, let's go get them." Rourke walked Karamat-sov toward the closet, never moving the revolver's muzzle from the man's head. Karamatsov opened the closet and Rourke had him reach down the twin .45s, the Python and the two-inch Lawman from the closet shelf, then had him take the CAR-15 and the Steyr from the corner of the closet. "Where's the bag with the magazines and ammo?"

"I don't know—I think with your motorcycles."

"Good," Rourke almost whispered. "Now, on your knees, and real careful, check out each one of those pistols and the CAR-15 so I can see they're loaded—hurry it up!"

As Karamatsov knelt and one by one inspected the weapons, slowly so Rourke could see that they were loaded, Rourke slipped the shoulder holster in place, switching the Chief's Special at Karamatsov's temple from one hand to the other as he secured the stainless Detonics pistols under his arms, then got Karamatsov up off the floor.

"Now—hand me that belt with the Python on it," Rourke said. Rourke slung the belt on his left shoulder, moving the muzzle of the Metalifed six-inch .357 to Karamatsov's head and tossing the little Chief's Special into his hip pocket. Rourke slung the CAR-15 to his right shoulder—he'd had Karamatsov chamber a round—then flicked off the safety. He slipped the two-inch Lawman into his belt.

"Forgot my knife—where is it?" Rourke asked.

"In my desk." Karamatsov said.

"Let's go get it—and my wallet and lighter, hmm?"

Never moving the muzzle of the Python from Karamatsov's head, Rourke walked slowly beside the Russian to the desk. The Russian started to open the top drawer and Rourke pushed him away, then opened the drawer himself. There was his wallet, and the black chrome Sting IA and his Zippo—and a Pachmayr-gripped Model 59 Smith & Wesson 9mm automatic. "I would have killed you, Vladmir. Hey—what do people call you for short—Vladey? I like that—I'll call you Vladey," Rourke said, smiling. "Now Vladey, we're gonna walk down that hallway, you're gonna carry my Steyr in that nice padded rifle case—be real careful with it. Fantastic gun—come up my neck of the woods sometime and I'll show it to you. Great shooter. Now, you carry it, walk real slow and don't try to get so you can't feel this—" and Rourke gestured with the muzzle of the Metalifed Python—"against your head. 'Cause if you stop feeling it there, I'll pull the trigger." Rourke thumb-cocked the hammer on the Python, his first finger against the grooved trigger. "All right—let's go."

Karamatsov didn't move, saying, "Kill me now."

Natalie was blown, she would be fingered for helping him escape, Rourke knew that, and he said, "I promised your wife I wouldn't unless I had to— your choice. You want to be a dead hero, or you want to live again to fight another day—which is it?"

The Russian started walking toward his office door. Rourke switched the Python into his left hand, his right fist wrapped around the pistol grip of the CAR-15, his finger against the trigger. They entered the corridor and Rourke spotted at least a dozen Russian soldiers halfway along its length. "Shout to them," Rourke whispered.

In Russian, Karamatsov almost
screamed
, "I gave an order—it is to be obeyed—let us pass and stay out of sight. That is my order!"

The soldiers, some slowly, vanished from the corridor. Rourke started walking faster, saying to the KGB man, "Let's pick up the pace a little—I'm runnin' a little late. Where's the radio room?" Karamatsov said nothing for a moment, then Rourke repeated the question.

"Where's the radio room, Vladmir? Hmm?" and Rourke punched the muzzle of the Python harder against the back of Karamatsov's head.

"By the aircraft maintenance section—at the far end of the corridor and to the right. But you'll never make it."

Rourke pushed a little harder with the muzzle of the Python, "You better hope I do, pal—it's us, remember. I don't make it, you don't make it. Move."

Rourke started walking faster, Karamatsov just ahead of him. They were halfway down the corridor, and ahead of him, Rourke could see more of the Russian soldiers, and as he started to say something to Karamatsov, the Russian shouted, "Get away from here! That is an order!"

"Good," Rourke whispered, glancing around the hallway. There was no one behind him, but he knew that as soon as they reached the end of the hall and turned right, the corridor would fill with Russian soldiers, just waiting for their move.

"What do you want in the radio room?"

"You're going to call off the air strike with the neutron device," Rourke told him.

Karamatsov stopped, not moving. "She told you that?"

"I'm a psychic," Rourke said. "Now move unless you want your brains decorating the ceiling tiles— come on."

Karamatsov started walking again, saying to Rourke, "Why would I call off the air strike, and even if I did, why would they listen to me?"

"You'd better hope they do," Rourke said. "Because when I get out of here—with Chambers—I'm going to try and save your tails and get the assault force called back, if I can. We're in the same spot, friend. 'Cause I'm leaving here through the elevators onto the air field, and if I'm reading this place right, this wouldn't be a neutron hard site with the access doors open to the elevators—so all you guys would get fried. You tell your bosses that," Rourke concluded. He knew nothing about the construction of the underground complex and had no reason to suppose that the site would be vulnerable with the access doors to the elevator section opened, but he was gambling that Karamatsov and his superiors wouldn't be sure of that, either.

They reached the end of the corridor and turned right. Behind him, Rourke could hear the shuffling of boots, but there was no one ahead of him. "How far's the radio room, Vladmir?"

"There," and the Russian raised his hand, slowly, gesturing toward a door perhaps a hundred yards down. "That is it."

"Good," Rourke said. "Now, when we get there, you knock on the door and they bring the radio microphone out to you—got it? We don't go in." Rourke could see the KGB man's shoulders sag slightly. "And when it comes up, they can use alligator clips to make the connection if the micro-phone cord's too short."

The Russian started to turn his head and Rourke gave the Python a little nudge and the movement stopped. "You will never make it out of here alive, and if by some chance you do and you do not kill me, I will find you, if I have to search this entire dung pile of a country. I will look and look until I find you."

"Because of this," Rourke said, nudging the gun slightly, "or because of her?"

"What do you think?" the Russian snapped.

"Nothing happened—it could have, but nothing did. I think all you've got is a very lonely girl. You were already married to your job when you married her. It happens to a lot of guys in a lot more prosaic jobs. She's a hell of a good woman—you're lucky. I guess that's maybe the real reason I don't want to kill you."

Karamatsov stopped and turned, ignoring the muzzle of the gun at his head, staring at Rourke. Rourke whispered, "I almost envy you—with her. If you're fool enough to lose her, I should shoot you," and Rourke pushed the muzzle of the Python against Karamatsov's head again and they walked the last few yards to the door of the radio room. "Now knock—be polite," Rourke whispered.

Karamatsov knocked on the door, shouting in Russian, "It is Major Karamatsov—open the door— immediately."

The door opened and there was a soldier there with a gun in his hand and Rourke, in Russian, said, "Put it away or you've got a dead major—you want to be responsible, go ahead and be a hero of the Soviet Union." The soldier hesitated a moment, then stepped back into the room. "Call for the radio hookup," Rourke rasped to Karamatsov in English.

The Russian hesitated, then shouted into the radio room. In a moment, the same young Russian who had appeared at the door with a rifle appeared with the microphone, passing it to Karamatsov. Rourke jockeyed Karamatsov into position, so he could see the inside of the radio room over the Russian's shoulder. He glanced down the hallway, saw a face peering around the corridor, then the face withdrew. Rourke said to the KGB man, "Now, get on the radio and make it good—call off the neutron strike. Remember, my Russian's just fine."

Karamatsov pushed the button on the microphone and began speaking into it, then from the speaker inside there was heavy static, then a guttural voice, coming back to him. Rourke listened to the voice on the speaker and Karamatsov arguing, Karamatsov finally admitting the situation he was in. There was a long silence, then the voice was replaced by another voice, speaking in English.

"This is General Varakov—your name is Rourke, no? I do not want Karamatsov killed, at least not yet. He was too proud, perhaps this will be good for his— what is it—the Latin word, the ego. Yes. I have called off the neutron weapon strike. I will meet you some day. It is hard for me to believe you are acting alone, though."

Karamatsov glanced toward Rourke, and for a moment Rourke could read his eyes, then Rourke took the microphone from Karamatsov, saying, "General—I wasn't acting alone. I freed President Chambers and he helped me—you've got a tough adversary in him. I'll give you some advice—don't underestimate him."

"And some of the advice for you, my young friend," the voice on the loudspeaker came back. "You have just used all the nine lives of a cat this night. Do tell this to your President Chambers—do not underestimate me." And the radio went dead.

Rourke ripped the microphone free of the cord and tossed it down the empty corridor, saying to Karamatsov, "Now let's get out of here so I can call off the attack before it gets started." Running in a slow lope beside the KGB man, the gun still trained on the Russian's head, Rourke started down the hallway toward the aircraft maintenance section. Behind him, he could hear the shuffling of the Russian boots on the corridor floor, but he didn't bother to turn around.

Chapter Forty-Three

The elevator section of the underground hangar and maintenance complex was huge, more vast in size than Rourke had ever imagined. The twin engine prop plane was ready, the bikes loaded aboard, Chambers—Rourke had breathed a sigh of relief finding that the new president knew how to fly—was at the copilot's controls. At gunpoint, Natalie had moved Rubenstein, complete with the I.V. and the stomach tube, from the hospital section,
and
had him already loaded aboard. She had said nothing to her husband as Rourke had brought Karamatsov in still at gunpoint. The doors leading to the elevator section were closed behind them, massive steel doors that effectively sealed the com-pound.

"How are the RPMs, Mr. President?" Rourke shouted in through the hatch in the port side of the fuselage. The president gave a thumbs-up signal and Rourke turned back to Karamatsov, saying, "Well, major—looks like we take off. Do I have to cold cock you—that's slang for knock you out—or will you just stay here and wait?"

Karamatsov said nothing, then Natalie spoke. "I will guard him, John—you don't need to knock him out."

Rourke looked at her, saying, "I can't leave you here—you'll be—"

"If I go with you, I am still a KGB agent. Your people won't welcome me with open arms. Be-sides—" and she left the word hanging.

"I can let you off between here and there," Rourke suggested, his voice low.

"If the entrance doors are opened, they will be able to scramble some of the captured American fighter planes and pursue you—they'll shoot you down."

"I can't let you stay here," Rourke said. "What about what you've done?"

The girl looked at her husband, saying to Rourke, "I don't think Vladmir will admit to what I've done—he'll find a way to cover it up. Varakov doesn't want him dead, and Varakov would not kill me and leave Vladmir alive. Perhaps I'll just retire as an agent."

Karamatsov spoke, saying to Rourke, "I will not kill her."

Natalie cut in, saying, "No—he'll let me live. He'll remind me of it each time I look at him, with every-thing he doesn't say. Vladmir and I have been comrades together much longer than we have been husband and wife—I know his secrets, too."

"We've wound up in the middle of a soap opera, haven't we," Rourke said, smiling at the girl.

There was confusion in Karamatsov's eyes, and the girl laughed then, saying, "That was a class at the Chicago school you did not have to take Vladmir, darling. The female agents were briefed on the story lines of the dramatic programs shown on television here during the afternoons—so we could convince another American woman that we were just like they were." Then she turned to Rourke, saying, "Does your Sarah watch these soap operas, John—or did she?"

"No," Rourke said, smiling at the girl.

"I didn't think she would," Natalie laughed.

Rourke reached into his hip pocket and handed her husband's revolver, the Chief's Special he'd pocketed earlier. He wanted to say that he hoped he'd see her again, he wanted to kiss her good-bye, but he stuck out his right hand, saying, "Good-bye?"

The woman smiled, the corners of her mouth raised slightly, her lips parted, and she leaned toward him and kissed him on his lips, almost whispering, "
Dasvidanya
."