no longer had to accept any responsibility or blame for events.
Even as his churning stomach began to settle, Colonel Klee experienced a sudden feeling of utter despair, as he saw the police commissioner and Mayor Gebert bearing down on him.
Stadler was waving a message pad. “Are you mad, Klee? Have you really sent this?”
Klee accepted the pad, and put on his gold-rimmed spectacles to read. Not that he really needed to, poor though his eyesight was, he recognised his own handwriting.
“Yes, fifteen minutes ago. What else was I to do? They outrank me!” “You have no comprehension of what you've done, have you?” Gebert's hands clenched and unclenched. It was only with an effort that he prevented himself from committing an act of violence on the elderly officer: “As a result of those damned cries for help of yours, we are shortly going to be playing host to contingents from every gung-ho outfit in NATO.”
“The situation is worse than we can handle. I don't see that there is any other way...”
“So you send an SOS, an open invitation. When the 'Marines and the SAS and the Rangers arrive, how do we coordinate them, integrate them with your troops, the police...”
“I don't know. Let the generals sort it out.” Klee's petulant response to the questions was almost a wail of anguish. “What more do you expect me to do? I didn't ask for this, I should have retired last year.”
“It's too late for any of us to wish that had happened.” Stadler couldn't feel any pity for the broken man. He had put too many lives at risk. “We have to avoid a free-for-all in the streets. How many troops have you got in barracks?”
Sobbing, Klee shook his head. Both his hands came up to his face just a fraction too late to prevent Stadler's fist connecting with his mouth. The police chief made ready to launch another blow. I asked how many.” . “Perhaps three hundred or so, I think.” Klee made no effort to staunch the flow of blood from his split lip. “We are under strength, and some are on leave or away on courses. I didn't know this was going to happen.”
“What the devil is going on out here?”
As Stadler began to drag Klee away, a balding staff officer stuck his head out of the door abruptly.
Gebert turned on his politician's smile. “The colonel appears to be suffering from acute claustrophobia. For the sake of morale down here, we thought it best to subdue him quickly.”
“Quite right. Can't have men cracking up. Especially officers, sets a bad example. Taking him to the sick bay, are you?” Not waiting for an answer the officer withdrew, and the door closed behind him.
As he disappeared, Gebert heard more snatches of the continuing debate. “...take at least three weeks...”
“...need a couple of divisions I should say ...” “...street fighting, nasty business ...” “...a couple of mini-nukes will flush them out. Worth a few of our own and a chunk of the city...”
“We're keeping the whole operation under civilian control, using the police radio net.” Stadler tapped the wall map with his marker pen, leaving an unintentional cluster of smudged red dots on the plastic cover.
“Most of the land lines are out, with the exception of the duplicated hardened cables to the airport and the barracks. If the damage to the telephone system is going to continue to escalate, then we could still lose them. So we'll rely exclusively on radio.”
“A pity the trunk lines weren't knocked out before the colonel had his calls put through.” Gebert glared at Klee, who sat slumped on a folding chair in a corner, taking no part in the discussion.
“If we stick to the plan I've sketched out, then hopefully we establish contact with the special forces as they arrive, and then absorb and employ them, Everything depends on this central control knowing the positive location of our hunting units at any moment. Most important, none of them must make a move without having it cleared first.”
“You're
Even as his churning stomach began to settle, Colonel Klee experienced a sudden feeling of utter despair, as he saw the police commissioner and Mayor Gebert bearing down on him.
Stadler was waving a message pad. “Are you mad, Klee? Have you really sent this?”
Klee accepted the pad, and put on his gold-rimmed spectacles to read. Not that he really needed to, poor though his eyesight was, he recognised his own handwriting.
“Yes, fifteen minutes ago. What else was I to do? They outrank me!” “You have no comprehension of what you've done, have you?” Gebert's hands clenched and unclenched. It was only with an effort that he prevented himself from committing an act of violence on the elderly officer: “As a result of those damned cries for help of yours, we are shortly going to be playing host to contingents from every gung-ho outfit in NATO.”
“The situation is worse than we can handle. I don't see that there is any other way...”
“So you send an SOS, an open invitation. When the 'Marines and the SAS and the Rangers arrive, how do we coordinate them, integrate them with your troops, the police...”
“I don't know. Let the generals sort it out.” Klee's petulant response to the questions was almost a wail of anguish. “What more do you expect me to do? I didn't ask for this, I should have retired last year.”
“It's too late for any of us to wish that had happened.” Stadler couldn't feel any pity for the broken man. He had put too many lives at risk. “We have to avoid a free-for-all in the streets. How many troops have you got in barracks?”
Sobbing, Klee shook his head. Both his hands came up to his face just a fraction too late to prevent Stadler's fist connecting with his mouth. The police chief made ready to launch another blow. I asked how many.” . “Perhaps three hundred or so, I think.” Klee made no effort to staunch the flow of blood from his split lip. “We are under strength, and some are on leave or away on courses. I didn't know this was going to happen.”
“What the devil is going on out here?”
As Stadler began to drag Klee away, a balding staff officer stuck his head out of the door abruptly.
Gebert turned on his politician's smile. “The colonel appears to be suffering from acute claustrophobia. For the sake of morale down here, we thought it best to subdue him quickly.”
“Quite right. Can't have men cracking up. Especially officers, sets a bad example. Taking him to the sick bay, are you?” Not waiting for an answer the officer withdrew, and the door closed behind him.
As he disappeared, Gebert heard more snatches of the continuing debate. “...take at least three weeks...”
“...need a couple of divisions I should say ...” “...street fighting, nasty business ...” “...a couple of mini-nukes will flush them out. Worth a few of our own and a chunk of the city...”
“We're keeping the whole operation under civilian control, using the police radio net.” Stadler tapped the wall map with his marker pen, leaving an unintentional cluster of smudged red dots on the plastic cover.
“Most of the land lines are out, with the exception of the duplicated hardened cables to the airport and the barracks. If the damage to the telephone system is going to continue to escalate, then we could still lose them. So we'll rely exclusively on radio.”
“A pity the trunk lines weren't knocked out before the colonel had his calls put through.” Gebert glared at Klee, who sat slumped on a folding chair in a corner, taking no part in the discussion.
“If we stick to the plan I've sketched out, then hopefully we establish contact with the special forces as they arrive, and then absorb and employ them, Everything depends on this central control knowing the positive location of our hunting units at any moment. Most important, none of them must make a move without having it cleared first.”
“You're
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