Free Deathrace by Keith Douglass Page B

and how we do it. If I do my job right, then she won’t cause any of us to get wounded or worse. Yes, we’ll be baby-sitting her, but unexpected things always happen. If she can defend herself, so much the better.”
    “She, she. Does this woman have a name?”
    “Katherine Garnet. She has the temporary rank of full lieutenant and she said to call her Kat.”
    “How nice.” Milly sniffed. “I’m sorry, Ed, I didn’t mean to sound so snide. She’s probably a fine person. I want you to invite her over to dinner tomorrow night. If you aren’t having any kind of night drills.”
    “I’ll arrange it. Yes, good idea. I think you’ll like Kat. Now, I think your marvelous dinner is ready. May I seat you at the table and serve you?”
    As they ate, they talked about her work, and the new theater season coming up. All the while DeWitt remembered what she had said about losing ten pounds while he was gone. She shouldn’t do that. But who could they trust? Then he remembered one of the men in his squad, Fernandez, who lived with a woman in Coronado. He’d talked to him. Maybe the two women could get together when the platoon was on a mission. He’d never met the woman. They would have one huge thing in common. It might just work. He’d talk to Fernandez in the morning.
    That night, Milly clung to him. She had slipped into bed beside him without wearing her usual nightgown. Shekissed him, and put his hands on her, and whispered in his ear.
    “We’re going to make love every night from now until you leave.”
    Ed laughed softly. “We’re not shipping out for a month yet.”
    Milly nodded. “Good, I’ll keep you so worn out you won’t even know that Kat is a woman. She’ll just be another one of the guys you have to train. Now, roll over. I want to be on top the first time tonight.”

9
Saturday, October 22
0214 hours
Tehran, Iran
    George Imhoff had struggled with his decision for three hours, as he went from one small cafe to another, nibbling at rolls and drinking the bitter tea. There was no other way. He had used up his best prospects. The British student he was supposed to see that afternoon might be hard to find now.
    He worked his way slowly to the right street and paused in the shadows for five minutes watching it and the surrounding half-block area. Nothing moved. No one walked or rode by. Only one light showed in the whole area. He moved cautiously to the front of the small building and found the gate where it was supposed to be.
    It was unlatched. He pushed it inward.
    Nothing happened.
    He darted quickly through the opening and closed the wooden gate. A walkway led to the rear of the structure. It had two stories. The front of it was some kind of a retail store with windows covered by wooden panels locked in place.
    Trust your fellow man and he will trust you.
    Right.
    George found the rear door and knocked on it three times. He expected no reaction. Picking the lock would do no good. Everyone in this part of the world used locks with steel bars on the inside as well.
    To his surprise the door opened a crack, and a small voice asked him a question. He caught only one word and that didn’t make sense. He used the code word with hesitation.
    “Armageddon,” he said.
    There was a pause, then a sucked-in breath.
    “Just a moment,” the voice said in English.
    He heard movement inside, then the door opened more. “Not if we can prevent it,” the countersign came.
    “Thank God,” George said. The door opened to a dimly lit interior.
    “Come in, my friend. Come in. We have been expecting you. Things are not going well for us on this adventure.”
    The tall Iranian man, dressed in work clothes, held out his hand and George shook it.
    “I’m George,” he said.
    “Call me Peter.” The door closed and the two men went into a small room with cushions on the floor and a single light bulb burning in the corner.
    “We know about Shahpur. His family claimed his body. Have you eaten? You need sleep? What