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team you haven't seen what I've seen.' Tapping a finger on the plastic casing of his
nite-lite binoculars, he handed them to Jake and continued: 'Those figures climbing the
road up the side of the ravine, unless I am very much mistaken they are Igor Gurevich
and Maxim Aliyev. In which case I must assume that Nikolai Korolev died in the blast
when that door was destroyed, and these two are running for their lives while they still
can. So tell me, Jake, since I no longer have any enemies left in Perchorsk, how can I
be planning to murder them there?'
The Necroscope nodded again, smiled slowly, and handed the nite-lites back
unused. 'Okay,' he said, 'but don't go looking for an apology. Let's just say I'm very glad
I was wrong about you on this one. That's this one. As for how you got this far: well, I
can't say I've been much impressed by your methods.'
'It's the difference between east and west,' Turchin shrugged, and grinned in that
foxy way of his. 'It's "Politics", my young friend. But I think you'll find the end will justify
the means.'
Jake didn't answer, but without more ado conjured a Möbius door and
disappeared into it. A few loose flakes of snow where he'd been standing were picked
up and swirled in the vacuum of his departure.
And Trask said, 'Gustav, we're hundreds of miles from anywhere, and I'm already
feeling the cold. Your old chums Aliyev and Gurevich can't possibly make it. So it looks
like it's all worked out for you.'
'I know,' Turchin answered grimly. 'They are doomed to die anyway, but not by
my hand. I laid them a trail to follow, yes, but they didn't have to take it. I didn't bring
those men here, Ben. Greed and their lust for power did that.'
'Aye,' the Old Lidesci grunted. 'And that's something that holds true for both
worlds, probably for all worlds. For those are exactly the same things that brought the
Wamphyri here.'
Paul Garvey nodded and said, 'And now they're desperate to get out of here, no
less than Gurevich and Aliyev.'
'Desperation, yes,' said the precog. 'That's about all you can expect from them
from now on. There's only one way back to Starside and they know it, and it's a
defended route at that.'
'That's true,' said Millie, 'but look they're going for it anyway. And God help
anyone who gets in their way...!'
_
_
From the back of the service bay, fifteen guns were trained on the open space at the
entrance where one door had been torn to bits and the other stood half open. The
blazing brazier, amazingly untouched by all that had happened, burned red as before,
its fiery heart a marker at the far end of a seeming tunnel of darkness.
There came the rumbling growl of a snowplough's engine... at which six of the
fifteen slipped away unnoticed deeper into the complex in search of places to hide. Or
perhaps Karl Galich lone survivor of the three bosses, dazed and bloodied from a
gash in his forehead though he was was nevertheless aware of their cowardice. For
now he raised his voice in a harsh warning: 'Any man who runs without a fight answers
to me. But his answer won't matter, because I'll kill him anyway! So stand and fight, you
worthless bastards! And remember this: these bloody special forces whoever they
are, and no matter how good they seem to be they're only human. They're just men,
like you and me.' He had no way of knowing how very wrong he was.
The rumbling grew louder, began echoing through the cavern, and, preceded by
a two-foot deep rolling bank of mist, the snowplough appeared as a silhouette against
the silvery-grey oblong of the entrance. Jolting and shuddering clattering where its
caterpillar tracks lifted it up over various mounds of metallic debris, and flattening
several less solid obstructions, including some that squirted it advanced through the
mist and bore down on the brazier in a cloud of stinking blue exhaust smoke.
'Use the brazier to gauge the distance and get your range.' Galich's voice was
hoarse with rage now, and perhaps with something of fear. 'When those coals are
spilled, let that be your signal to open fire.'
'Useless!' someone shouted back. 'A waste of good lead. The plough's blade is
up!'
Galich cursed and yelled back, 'Then use the stanchions and cavern walls if you
have to, and go for ricochets. But whatever you do, don't even think of surrendering.
We've seen what they can do, these mothers. They play really rough, and they aren't
the kind who take prisoners.'
The brazier toppled and was crumpled under, scattering red-hot coals like a flood
of rubies across the cavern's floor. And Perchorsk's defenders opened fire.
A hail of bullets struck sparks off the snowplough's raised blade; others whined
viciously where they took chips out of the cavern walls or scarred the stanchions that
supported the roof. But the snowplough came clattering on, neither slowing down nor
deviating a single inch from its course its unstoppable collision course with flesh and
blood. And:
'We're out of here!' Galich gasped, when there was nothing left to say or do
except retreat or die. But only seven out of the nine made it into the complex, while the
other two left it just a little too late and went down screaming under the snowplough's
bloodied tracks.
But the way had narrowed down, and Malinari was too slow in finding neutral and
the brakes, so that the plough slewed sideways when it hit a wall and jerked to a halt.
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