Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(27)
Matt shook his head. “As it turned out, squeezing him wasn’t necessary.” He was talking to Dennis, but seemed to be explaining to Courtney as well. “He asked to see Major Jindal and me early this morning, saying Gravois and others like him heading up the League are nearly as crazy as Kurokawa. He claimed to be against that. He’s still loyal to the German contingent within the League, though, and wouldn’t spill anything that would hurt them directly, but he still gave us a hell of a lot.” Matt pulled a folded page from his pocket and handed it to Silva. “Part of it was this map he drew of Kurokawa’s layout. He claimed it was the same one he drew for Gravois when he flew observation missions around the island. It’s Zanzibar,” he said, “showing rough positions of everything from airfields to industrial facilities, to whatever shore batteries he saw from the air.”
“Do you trust it?” Courtney asked, skeptically.
“I think so,” Matt said.
“Indeed,” Courtney said, brows furrowing. He knew intellectually that Fiedler’s Germany wasn’t the same his son had gone to fight in ’thirty-nine, but the man still remained a variety of Nazi, apparently. They needed to learn more about that. “Why?” he asked simply.
Matt sighed. “Why not? He knows we’ll check it, and clearly hates Gravois. Why make stuff up? And he told me more, mostly about what the League—and Gravois—were up to out here in the first place. He preferred not to go into the other problems the League faces, or get too specific about how heavy an opponent it would be if we tangled with it, head-on. He’s not a traitor, to his own people at least, and feared too much information might kill Germans. Said that was too much to ask. But he does think they’re done with us for now.” He waved his hand. “We’ll get into that later. We have plenty to occupy us now as it is.”
“What’s the gist of it?” Courtney pressed.
Matt frowned. “Only that the main reason the League’s pulling out is that Gravois already accomplished his mission to do everything he could to promote the mutual annihilation of everybody in this region: us, the Grik, and Kurokawa.” His frown deepened. “I don’t intend to oblige him to the extent he hopes, obviously, but we’re in a hell of a jam.”
Silva cocked his head to the side. “The whuppin’. It looked convincing enough. Fiedler’s idea?”
“Yeah,” Matt confirmed, and exhaled, like he’d just set down a heavy load. “He’s a tough guy, and knows he’s been on the wrong side, I think. At least out here. He wasn’t happy before, but the whole situation with Savoie pushed him over the edge. And he knows Gravois will figure he spilled something, about the sub if nothing else. So the beating was probably necessary to keep them from just dropping him over the side. Who knows? If he lives and keeps losing faith in the League, we might wind up with somebody on the inside someday.” He looked at Silva and his expression changed to one of challenge. “We’d have to go with the operations we’ve already got in the works, no matter what. Both are risky as hell, and the raid on Zanzibar has to come first. If it flops, the assault on Sofesshk could go really bad, particularly if the Republic doesn’t do its share.” He stopped and looked at Courtney. “Which reminds me. I want you with Bekiaa. She’s been on her own long enough, and we need a real, official representative with the Republic army. You’ll go?”
Courtney’s face flushed with protest, but resignedly he nodded.
“Good,” Matt said, turning back to Silva. “Because we’ve got to win this war as fast as we can, if we can. So we can start getting ready for the next one.”
“We’ll get it done, Skipper. And we’ll get Lady Sandra back too,” Silva pledged. “Then we’ll make the damn League sorry they ever muddied up our war!” He started to turn away, but Courtney stopped him.
“One final thing, if you please.” He glanced worriedly at Matt before returning his gaze to Silva. “Do you have it?” he asked simply.
Silva’s good eye widened in confusion, then narrowed just a bit. “Have it?” he asked, and a gap-toothed grin began to spread. “Nah, Mr. Bradford. Ol’ Doc Stevens got rid of it for me before we ever wound up here, God rest his skunky, Yankee soul.” His grin faded at the sight of Matt and Courtney’s intense expressions, and he realized they had no patience at all for his evasions that day.
Matt took a deep breath. “Do you or do you not have the thorn weapon Adar and Bernie cooked up and Commander Herring smuggled out from Baalkpan? Herring told me with his dying words that he’d given it to the ‘perfect person,’ undoubtedly someone he thought would use it without hesitation if the appropriate opportunity arose.”
Silva’s face lost all expression—he couldn’t help it—even as he knew Matt and Courtney both would see it as a sure sign they’d caught him. Despite his tendency to evade indirect questions, he’d promised long ago he’d never lie to his Skipper again, and Matt had accordingly made his question very specific. An equally specific response was required.
“Captain Reddy,” Silva said very formally, “I don’t have Mr. Herring’s kudzu bomb. Sir.”
Strangely, Matt nodded with relief. “Kudzu bomb” was Bernie Sandison’s term for a weaponized version of the thorns of a profoundly sinister plant found on Yap Island. Even dried and stored for long periods, the thorns could be resuscitated if exposed to blood, sending roots into the capillaries and veins of an infected host at an astonishing rate. The infection was extremely painful (as the newly promoted Captain Abel Cook of the 1st North Borno could attest), but also came with an insidiously sedative fever that made the host practically indifferent to the fact. Eventually, enough of the victim’s circulatory system was compromised to cause death, and the kudzulike plant would emerge from the nourishing corpse to spread and bloom—and make more thorns. Realizing this, while he and others had been stranded on the island, Silva helped, under less than ideal circumstances, cut off one of Cook’s fingers. Bradford was later horrified to learn of the weapon’s development, fearing if the plant ever got a foothold beyond its native isle, entire continents might be rendered uninhabitable. For that reason, no one, except possibly Herring, had seriously contemplated using the weapon.