You're counterintelligence, aren't you? Abwehr?"
Zur Linde nodded curtly. "The best."
The great unabridged dictionary, largest made by the Merriam poeple, dropped like a stone from the balcony, its binding cracking as it struck zur Linde's starhelm, toppling him. Rolling to his feet in a blur of motion, his hand streaked for his pistol, only to freeze when he saw the minimac's unwavering muzzle.
"You know the drill, Erich," said Harrison. "Toss the PPK." Heather scooped up both weapons. "Now sit." Zur Linde sat.
"Well done, Jorge," Heather called, looking up at the small brown face bearing over the bannister. He bounded down the stairs to a warm hug from Heather.
Walking to the door she called, "Chin Lee! We have a prisoner!"
A squad of Vipers came at the run, led by a big, tough-looking Chinese with an old knife scar puckering the length of his right cheek.
"Starhelm, Erich," demanded Harrison, hand outstretched. When the Abwehr officer didn't move, Heather said, "Chin Lee."
Drawing a long-bladed ranger knife, the platoon leader stepped purposefully toward zur Linde. Fingers flying, the German unfastened the helmet and handed it to Harrison, scowling.
"Nice to see your pretty face again," said John. Chin Lee sighed and put the knife away.
Touching the starhelm's bottom rim, Harrison flipped the commswitch off.
"Think they had time to vector in?" asked Heather.
Harrison nodded.
"Chin, get everyone together," ordered Heather. "There's a strike force on the way." He ran from the room, shouting orders.
Walking to a bookcase, Heather removed a leather-bound copy of Robert Louis Stevenson's Infernal Machine, then threw a small, red switch behind it. She carefully returned the book to its niche. "In forty minutes, the house will blow up," she said. Pulling a big backpack from under the desk, she shrugged her way into it. "Five minutes later, land mines in the lawn will detonate—take out their second wave."
In a few minutes, Vipers laden with packs and weapons were filing through the library and into the tunnel.
"I'll show you to the cathedral, John." Heather picked up zur Linde's starhelm as Chin Lee took the German away.
"You're not going to . . ." Harrison said, staring after the Abwehr officer.
"No." She strapped on the starhelm. "Not that he doesn't deserve it. We'll give him a dose of memscrub— this day will vanish from his life.
"The trick," she added, voice muffled by the helmet, "is to defeat the enemy without becoming him."
"You can believe that, yet hit that reaction force?"
"It's not excessive," she said as he fastened on his own starhelm. "There's too much here we haven't had time to destroy. Also, the carnage will slow them, buy us time. We're going to be exposed for about two hours, relatively defenseless. This'H pull in every chopper UC has."
"Where are you going?" he asked as they stepped into the passageway.
"Warren's Island, in the inner harbor. There's an old fort there." She swung the bookcase shut. "Not quite what we've become used to, but habitable."
They looked up at the roar of choppers coming in low and fast. "UC's about to find out just how hot a hot LZ can be," said Heather coldly. "Let's go."
5
Most international opinion was won, and any support for a countercoup dissipated, by the General Staff s calculated ' 'discovery'' of the death camps four days after the Putsch. The footage of Guderian's panzers smashing through the gates of Dachau, the horrified reactions of the soldiers to the grisly scene inside, sold the world on "the return of the Germany of Goethe, Schiller and Beethoven." Only the Russians didn't buy it. The war in the East ground on.
—Harrison, ibid., p. 74
Operations was quiet when John arrived—a paunchy, graying warrant officer, four young techs and a few guards. Up on the big board, Boston was a green island, surrounded by a line of red. Inside the green, another line of red divided three-quarters of the city from the remainder— turf. The yellow
Zur Linde nodded curtly. "The best."
The great unabridged dictionary, largest made by the Merriam poeple, dropped like a stone from the balcony, its binding cracking as it struck zur Linde's starhelm, toppling him. Rolling to his feet in a blur of motion, his hand streaked for his pistol, only to freeze when he saw the minimac's unwavering muzzle.
"You know the drill, Erich," said Harrison. "Toss the PPK." Heather scooped up both weapons. "Now sit." Zur Linde sat.
"Well done, Jorge," Heather called, looking up at the small brown face bearing over the bannister. He bounded down the stairs to a warm hug from Heather.
Walking to the door she called, "Chin Lee! We have a prisoner!"
A squad of Vipers came at the run, led by a big, tough-looking Chinese with an old knife scar puckering the length of his right cheek.
"Starhelm, Erich," demanded Harrison, hand outstretched. When the Abwehr officer didn't move, Heather said, "Chin Lee."
Drawing a long-bladed ranger knife, the platoon leader stepped purposefully toward zur Linde. Fingers flying, the German unfastened the helmet and handed it to Harrison, scowling.
"Nice to see your pretty face again," said John. Chin Lee sighed and put the knife away.
Touching the starhelm's bottom rim, Harrison flipped the commswitch off.
"Think they had time to vector in?" asked Heather.
Harrison nodded.
"Chin, get everyone together," ordered Heather. "There's a strike force on the way." He ran from the room, shouting orders.
Walking to a bookcase, Heather removed a leather-bound copy of Robert Louis Stevenson's Infernal Machine, then threw a small, red switch behind it. She carefully returned the book to its niche. "In forty minutes, the house will blow up," she said. Pulling a big backpack from under the desk, she shrugged her way into it. "Five minutes later, land mines in the lawn will detonate—take out their second wave."
In a few minutes, Vipers laden with packs and weapons were filing through the library and into the tunnel.
"I'll show you to the cathedral, John." Heather picked up zur Linde's starhelm as Chin Lee took the German away.
"You're not going to . . ." Harrison said, staring after the Abwehr officer.
"No." She strapped on the starhelm. "Not that he doesn't deserve it. We'll give him a dose of memscrub— this day will vanish from his life.
"The trick," she added, voice muffled by the helmet, "is to defeat the enemy without becoming him."
"You can believe that, yet hit that reaction force?"
"It's not excessive," she said as he fastened on his own starhelm. "There's too much here we haven't had time to destroy. Also, the carnage will slow them, buy us time. We're going to be exposed for about two hours, relatively defenseless. This'H pull in every chopper UC has."
"Where are you going?" he asked as they stepped into the passageway.
"Warren's Island, in the inner harbor. There's an old fort there." She swung the bookcase shut. "Not quite what we've become used to, but habitable."
They looked up at the roar of choppers coming in low and fast. "UC's about to find out just how hot a hot LZ can be," said Heather coldly. "Let's go."
5
Most international opinion was won, and any support for a countercoup dissipated, by the General Staff s calculated ' 'discovery'' of the death camps four days after the Putsch. The footage of Guderian's panzers smashing through the gates of Dachau, the horrified reactions of the soldiers to the grisly scene inside, sold the world on "the return of the Germany of Goethe, Schiller and Beethoven." Only the Russians didn't buy it. The war in the East ground on.
—Harrison, ibid., p. 74
Operations was quiet when John arrived—a paunchy, graying warrant officer, four young techs and a few guards. Up on the big board, Boston was a green island, surrounded by a line of red. Inside the green, another line of red divided three-quarters of the city from the remainder— turf. The yellow
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