Free William W. Johnstone by Wind In The Ashes Page B

That’s how I got captured. After I got on my feet, I started some hard checkin'. I found out who it was and killed him. We’ve had no more leaks. But it was a damned hard thing for me to do.”
    It was a story the Rebels were accustomed to hearing. “Friend of yours, huh?”
    Harris looked at him. “Yeah. He was my brother.”

Ten
     
    Like silent ghosts in tiger-stripe and lizard camo, the Rebels moved along the buildings of the Redding airport. Those IPF personnel who happened to be on foot patrol, or just unfortunate enough to be outside while the Rebels were moving into position, met silent, abrupt death with black wire or darkened blades. Their bodies were dragged out of sight and dumped.
    Swiftly and softly, the Rebels took their positions, all of them just a bit nervous about this raid. For the general was personally leading this attack.
    “Damned fool!” Sylvia whispered to him, as they crouched inside the tower, on the tarmac. “You’ve got men and women thirty years younger that you and Ike personally trained to do this sort of work. What are you trying to prove?”
    Ben’s smile flashed in the night. He leaned close and whispered, “Are you trying to tell me I’m over the hill, kid?”
    Sylvia flushed and blushed. She knew damn well Ben was far from being over the hill. In more ways than one. Then her eyes widened in shock as Ben leaned closer still and blew softly in her ear.
    “Ben! Quit! Shit!” she whispered. “You’re insane!”
    Ben kissed her cheek and chuckled softly. “Are you trying to tell me this is not the place for romance, kid?”
    Sylvia could but shake her head and sigh. All her life she had heard stories about how totally unpredictable General Ben Raines was.
    She could damn well believe it now.
    Ben looked up at the tower. “Into the jaws of death, Into the mouth of hell, Rode the six hundred.”
    “What’d you say, Ben?”
    “Tennyson. You ready?”
    She looked at him. “For
what?”
    He chuckled. “My daughter, Tina, is fond of quoting something she says she read in one of my books. Kill a commie for mommie. I swear I don’t remember
ever
writing anything like that. But it’s a good phrase for this night.”
    Ben and Sylvia looked up as footsteps sounded on the stairwell above where they crouched inside the tower building. A man had stepped out of the tower area to have a smoke. His lighter flashed in the darkness, for a moment illuminating his face. His face was cruel-looking. He wore the insignia of a major on his collar points. He turned his back to the stairs and stood looking out a small window.
    Ben handed Sylvia his Thompson and drew his long-bladed knife, the edge honed to razor-sharpness. Ben had shaved with it more than once.
    He slowly climbed the stairs toward the Russian.On his hip, for this mission replacing his.45 caliber Colt Army automatic, he carried a Colt Woodsman automatic.If he missed any of his targets in the tower, his repair people might be able to fix what a.22 slug caused. But with a hollow point.45 slug? …
    And he was not going to give the Russian any chance to struggle during the conventional hand-over-the-mouth, knife-across-the-throat business.
    Ben swung the heavy knife, decapitating the man. Blood splattered on the walls and floor as the man’s head struck the floor with a sticky thud. Ben grabbed the body and slowly lowered it to the floor.
    He motioned for Sylvia to stay put. Ben removed a gas mask from its container and slipped it over his face, checking it. It worked. Ben had never liked the damn things. He slipped a combination irritant gas and smoke grenade from his web belt and glanced down at Sylvia. He nodded at her. She returned the nod and lifted her walkie-talkie, speaking just one word: Go!”
    Ben pulled the pin, released the spoon, and jerked open the door, tossing the grenade inside with his left hand. His right hand was full of Colt Woodsman. He shot one IPF man in the chest and another in the face, then stepped