Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(140)
“Not yet, Lord.”
“Ensure she is brought to me at once when it does.”
Muriname hesitated. He’d had his own . . . designs on Sandra and her servant, impossible though they might’ve been from the start, but he never would’ve physically harmed either one. Their mere existence as living proof there were still females on this terrible world had been enough to keep the worst of his madness in check. But the pretty servant would be dead now, at his Lord’s command, and there was no telling what Kurokawa meant to do with Captain Reddy’s wife. But what could he do? “Of course, Lord,” he said.
? ? ?
“Holy shit! There the sumbitch is!” Silva hissed, staring through his telescope. He, Sandra, Diania, Lawrence, the three Shee-Ree, the Repub ’Cat named Ruffy, and their five Khonashi had hidden in the jumbled, fire-scorched debris of a bombed-out warehouse halfway between where Savoie was edging away from her dock and where Kurokawa’s compound was. They were about a quarter mile apart, which meant Silva was trying to identify an individual he’d never seen at over two hundred yards, in the dark. But it wasn’t that dark. Dawn was near and the fires on the bay helped. Besides, it was as if his one good eye had taken up some of the slack and it was really good. “Least I think it’s him,” he corrected glumly. “Never saw the bastard before. But he’s actin’ the part, talkin’ to another Jap. Taller, skinnier.”
“Is he short? Round?” Sandra demanded.
“Yeah.”
“That’s him,” she said bitterly. “I haven’t seen another fat Jap on the island. Can you hit him from here?”
“Sure I could, with my ol’ Doom Stomper.” Silva raised the Thompson. “Prob’ly not with this.”
Sandra turned to the Khonashi troops. “Can any of you hit a man at two hundred paces?”
“Us all can, Lady Sandra,” their corporal stated confidently.
“Woah! So could Larry,” rebutted Silva sharply, “but nobody’s shootin’ that bastard now, from here.”
“I’m the senior officer, Chief Silva,” Sandra seethed, “and it’s my order that you take that man under fire at once!”
“No way.”
Sandra opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. Silva had never disobeyed a direct order from her, and to do so now, with such a chance . . . She simply couldn’t believe it.
“Here’s the deal,” Silva continued quickly before she could recover herself. “You know my rule: last, highest-up order. Well, the one I’m followin’ now came from hisself, your hubby, Cap’n the All-Powerful Reddy. Far as I’m concerned, Union or not, there ain’t no higher-up orders. Now, he told me I could have all the fun I want after I got you an’ the other pris’ners secured.” He shook his head. “I wadn’t quick enough for ol’ Adar, an’ that’s on me. If Horn an’ Lange wanna go play with Mr. Brassey, that’s on them. They can help, an’ they’re grown-up men.” Sandra formed an angry retort, but Silva cut her off. “I know yer a hellcat in a fight, both of ya, so don’t go on about that. It ain’t about what wimmen can or can’t do—except for the part about babies, I guess.” He nodded at Sandra’s abdomen. “I damn sure can’t do that. Even so, gen’rally pertective as I may be, I’d say, hell, let’s go play. We’ll kill that damn Jap, an’ you can pull the trigger. Poke his eyes out an’ pull his guts out his nose, for all I care. But you got that baby, see? The Skipper’s kid to worry about.” He pointed out to sea. “He’s out there now, fixin’ to fight. An’ you know what? He’ll know in his bones that I got you, an’ that’ll help him fight clear-headed. He’s gonna need that. But if Kurokawa’s goons get you back—which they will, dead or alive, if we take to shootin’ at ’em now—they can still use that against him, against ever’body out there!” He leaned back.
“Now, this here’s a pretty safe place, and it’s my intention to leave you with these Shee-Ree to watch over you. They can’t just run loose either once the sun comes up. They got Blitzers an’ ammo. You an’ Miss Diania got Blitzers too. If you keep quiet an’ don’t go blastin’ away, you should be fine till things get sorted out. Give your word to sit tight, an’ me, Larry, an’ these Khonashis can go raise a lotta hell that might save lives—might save the Skipper’s life—if we’re not worried about you. If you won’t stay put, I’ll stay here an’ sit on ya. Swear to God. So right here, right now, you gotta pick which is more important: you an’ that kid we all risked our asses for—doesn’t matter whether this fight was already comin’ or not; that’s why we came an’ done what we done—or your own personal revenge. Me an’ Larry’ll get that for you, in spades, I promise.”
Sandra’s glare was visible now, in the light seeping through the charred ceiling beams that had collapsed during a previous raid. The sound of airplane engines became more distinct, as did the patter of machine guns they were firing at one another.
“We can do a lot with this goin’ on,” Silva pleaded.
Sandra finally nodded. “All right, damn it. Go. And you better keep your promise!”
Silva and his companions were already weaving their way through the wreckage. He stopped and grinned back at her, the gap in his suddenly bright teeth telling her all she needed to know. “You bet,” he said. Then he was gone.