Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(88)
Kim looked thoughtful. “It would leave our flanks exposed.”
“Generaal,” Bekiaa began, then paused, blinking apology. “Right now your armies have six flaanks the enemy can exploit. They invite defeat in detail.” She blinked regret at Kim, realizing how sharp her criticism must feel, then smiled at Taal again. “Combine the armies and secure the flaanks with the bulk of our cavalry.” She shook her head. “I’ve grown spoiled by air reconnai-saance. I wish we had some now.”
Choon brightened, after an annoyed—possibly jealous—blink at General Taal. “I have good news in that regard, at least. Soon we will have it.” He waved outside. “Even now, a strip of the colorful ground cover is being cleared and the first operational squadron of our Fliegertruppe is en route. The flying machines will arrive today or tomorrow, in fact. When they are assembled, we will have eyes in the sky at last.”
“Today or tomorrow,” Courtney grumped. “More delay. Do we wait for them?”
“No,” Kim suddenly stated. He raised his voice. “And the legate’s . . . somewhat scathing counsel is well taken. I won’t send our cavalry into the forest, but the armies will converge here”—he pointed at the same spot on the map Bekiaa indicated—“just short of it, and await our flying eyes to see beyond us. If the enemy is not already there, our planes should sight them moving through the trees to meet us. A large force cannot remain entirely undetected, even in heavy timber, I should think. If the Grik are waiting, we will allow them to deploy and receive their attack in the open, where we should have the advantage. If Ambassador Bradford and Legate Bekiaa are correct, we will be conceding to the enemy’s new strengths as well, but I see no alternative. On the other hand, if nothing awaits us, we shall make a forced march through the forest to the open land the map depicts beyond, and prepare to cross this”—he paused, staring closer—“this Ungee River.” He glanced up. “There, my friends, is where I expect to meet our first, fiercest resistance. There is where the Grik will likely notice us at last—to Captain Reddy’s satisfaction,” he added ironically, then paused, his deep frown returning. “And we must expect resistance to grow fiercer still from there to Sofesshk. Hopefully, the Grik will have other concerns by then.”
CHAPTER 13
////// Sovereign Nest of Jaaph Hunters
Zanzibar
The dusty little compound holding Sandra, Diania, Adar, Lange, Gunny Horn, and two Lemurian sailors was roughly thirty yards square, situated on a peninsula on the southwest coast of Zanzibar. Surprisingly true to his word, Kurokawa had confined them together with an illusion of open space, and a wonderful view of the world around them. There were numerous blue-green islands strung up and down the coast and a tall, rounded mountain in the distance to the north. To the east was the anchorage, about two miles wide, and stretching possibly ten miles diagonally down the shoreline. Another lump of an island stood near its center.
Their vantage point gave them a wealth of intelligence about the enemy; they saw factories, shipyards, even a number of thoughtfully placed shore batteries armed with heavy Grik guns. There had obviously been an early attempt at camouflage, but the scope of Kurokawa’s presence on Zanzibar and the fleet he’d assembled had made that impractical. A lot probably remained hidden, but there were many things that simply couldn’t be. They even had a good idea where three enemy airfields were (one was less than a mile to the north) from watching planes come and go. Ominously, Grik zeppelins flew in and out every few days as well.
Savoie’s sinister shape was still secured to the dock on the north end of the anchorage, not far from where Sandra, Diania, and Adar had been dragged for the meeting that resulted in their new quarters. Unfortunately, their quarters within the compound consisted only of a small shack Gunny Horn and Becher Lange had been allowed to build, and it, surrounded by ragged blankets rigged out for shade, was their only protection from the merciless sun. So their wonderful view and slightly looser confinement didn’t come without a cost.
Still, every day they busied themselves gathering information and concocting schemes to escape with it. So far, none seemed very promising. Sandra had been right that there was no barbed wire; Kurokawa probably had more important uses for his limited steel. The Allies had a different perspective. Barbed wire could’ve made the difference between survival and defeat for their forces on several occasions. Instead, the compound was surrounded by densely spaced, sharpened stakes woven together with vines as tough as any wire, in the absence of an ax or heavy blade to cut it. And beyond that was a genuine moat, connected by a swamp to the sea. Low tide left it shallow enough to wade across, but their Grik guards baited it with the offal of their grisly meals, keeping it stirring and swirling with the local version of flasher fish. It would be next to impossible to cross. A gate on a little land bridge was the only way in or out of the compound, and the Grik guarding it were unusually diligent and well armed with smoothbore percussion muskets, obviously copied from the ones the Allies used when they invaded Ceylon. Those had only recently appeared, as had the gray leather armor uniforms the sentries wore, and the prisoners guessed they’d been supplied by the Grik on the mainland. Kurokawa obviously had at least a few new automatic weapons, and his Japanese went armed with Arisakas they must’ve taken from Amagi when they abandoned her, but this was the first time the prisoners had seen Grik equipped with anything more modern than matchlocks. Beyond all that, however, even if they escaped the compound, they were on an island infested with enemies. How on earth could they ever get off and away?