26
39 miles south of Delta
“What are you all doing this far from home?” Major Riordan inspected Bodecia through narrowed eyes.
“Going for a walk, if it’s any of your business.”
“Forty kilometers, one way, on a walk?”
“We enjoy trekking. Now leave me alone.”
“You have a choice, madam. You can answer my questions now or after we string your husband up by his thumbs and carve on his belly for a while.”
“In a fair fight my husband would kill you in moments. But you know nothing of that; you’re just a damned grouse-hearted bully. I will tell you nothing or lies—your choice.”
“You place him in peril.”
“He placed himself in peril, I just went along for the exercise.”
“If I had three subordinates like you, I would rule the world.”
Hatred burned from Bodecia’s eyes. “You are as full of shit as a Christmas goose.”
“Lock her up, Corporal,” Riordan snapped. “Now!”
He watched the corporal of the guard usher the small woman out of his tent. Riordan felt angry enough to spit nails. Never in his life had he met such an intractable, insolent bitch.
She reminded him of his late mother.
Perhaps I should just shoot her now and get it over with.
What were they doing out here? Spying on the Russians? There was nothing else; they couldn’t have known about the Freekorps.
Lieutenant Grudzinski pushed open the tent flap. “Major, there is a helicopter out there.”
“Headed this way?”
“Difficult to tell, sir. It seems to be quite erratic.”
“Show me,” Riordan said, grateful for the distraction.
They moved briskly into the center of the camouflaged vehicles and tents. Lieutenant Grudzinski pointed north, “There, sir.”
Riordan trained his field glasses on the machine, keeping it in view with difficulty as it dipped and yawed.
“It’s Russian, but the pilot must be drunk, or very clever. Never have I seen such an unmilitary flight pattern.”
“I’d vote for drunk,” Grudzinski said with a nod.
“Shoot it down, Leonard.” Riordan returned to his tent.