Ashes - D Day In The Ashes Part 16

"You really don't want to do that," Ben replied blandly.

She cut her eyes to him. "Oh?"

"No. And we do not use physical torture, so put that out of your mind.

However, we do use chemicals, and they can be quite unpleasant."

Their conversation was cut off as the punks, four men and two women, were shoved into the room. The punks started shouting curses at Ben the instant they spotted him.

Kathy had stepped away from Ben. "How do they know who he is?" she whispered to Corrie.

"You knew what he looked like long before you met him, didn't you?"

"Well . . . yes. You do have a point."

"And remember this: The boss is the most wanted man in the world,"

Corrie continued. "And the most hated."

"I ain't tellin' you nothin'!" one of the men screamed at Ben. "You king-s.h.i.+t son of a b.i.t.c.h."

Ben sat on a corner of a old desk and smiled at the 198.

William W.Johnstme captured punk. "Have you people had anything to eat?"

"Huh?" one of the women blurted.

"Are you hungry?" Ben asked pleasantly.

"It's a trick!" the man who had first screamed at Ben said. "Don't eat nothin'. The food is drugged."

Ben laughed at him and stood up, walking to the coffee urn, pulling himself a cup of coffee. He sugared it and returned to the desk, sitting down in his chair. He lifted the cup and took a sip. "The coffee is fine. If you're not hungry, have some coffee. It's a raw day." He lookedat Buddy, who knew exactly what his dad was doing. "Remove their handcuffs, Buddy. And get them some coffee."

"Jump that b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" the defiant one yelled. "Kill him."

"How about this one?" Buddy asked, looking at the man who had just screamed at Ben.

"Sure. If he's that anxious to die, we can certainly oblige him."

Handcuffs removed, the others moved away from the mouthy prisoner, one of the women saying, "Shut up, Sonny. Let's just make the best of a bad situation. How about it?"

Sonny bluntly told her where she could shove her suggestion. Sideways.

She shrugged her shoulders and moved hesitantly toward the coffee urn.

She drew a cup of coffee and looked first at the tray of sandwiches, then at Ben.

"Help yourself," Ben told her.

Five of the six drew mugs of coffee, helped themselves to sandwiches, and returned to their chairs. One of the men asked, "Is this our last meal, General?"

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"That is entirely up to you. If you try to escape, you'll be shot dead.

If you accept the obvious fact that you are prisoners, you'll be treated accordingly. If you wish to talk openly to me, you will be made as comfortable as possible for the duration of this campaign. If you do not wish to speak without coercion, you will be injected with a truth serum and questioned in that manner. It's quite unpleasant-so I'm told. Just like before the Great War, and after, your destiny is in your own hands."

"The cops was always pickin' on me," one of the men said sullenly.

"Don't hand me that s.h.i.+t!" Ben's voice turned hard, and all of the prisoners picked up on it immediately.

"I am French," a man said.

"Then I'll turn you over to Rene Seaux," Ben told him.

"Mm Dim!" the man blurtedi. "Non. Mm!"

Rene and his resistance people had little patience with the outlaws and warlords who had ravaged their country. They had a habit of questioning them quite savagely and then hanging them. It was not an uncommon sight to see punks dangling from tree limbs and lamp posts.

The others paled at the thought of being handed over to the French Resistance.

"He's bluffing!" Sonny said.

The others looked at Ben, sitting at his desk, smiling at them. But itwas the hard and ruthless smile of a conqueror.

"No, he ain't." A man spoke the words softly. "Ben Raines don't bluff."

"I'm Marie," one of the woman said. She patted her 200.

William W. Joknstone hair and smiled at Ben. "I could go for you, General."

"I'm very flattered," Ben replied. "But I don't believe the lady I am seeing would be very understanding about that."

"Ain't that the way it always is?" Marie said with a shrug of her shoulders.

Kathy noticed that Ben was drinking his coffee with his left hand. His right hand was out of sight. She could feel the tension in the air; the room seemed thick with it.

"Don't tell him nothin'!" Sonny yelled. "Can't you see what the b.a.s.t.a.r.d is doin'?"

"What am I doing?" Ben asked.

Sonny cussed Ben until he was breathless.

"You feel better now?" Ben asked him, his eyes watching the man's hand move toward his belt buckle.

Kathy was confused when Ben said, "Don't do it, Sonny. You'll never make it."

"Make what?" she asked.

"f.u.c.k you, Raines!" Sonny yelled. Then, with a scream of rage, Sonny leaped toward Ben, a small knife suddenly appearing in his right hand.

Ben lifted his right hand and shot him.

The big .45 slug struck the punk in the center of the chest and stopped him, flinging him back and stretching him out on the floor. Kathy was stunned by the suddenness of it. One of the men prisoners started trembling.

"I don't want to die!" he blurted. "I don't want to die. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Buddy motioned toward two Rebels standing at the rear of the room and they dragged the dead punk out 201.

201.

into the gloom of early evening. Kathy grimaced at the sound of Sonny's body being tossed off the porch to land on the wet earth.

Ben eased the hammer down on his .45 autoloader and holstered it. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. He looked at Marie and smiled."We're all going to be very cooperative, aren't we, Marie?"

"You can bet your a.s.s on that," the woman said, her voice very shaky.

After the blood on the floor had been cleaned up, and the others gone to bed, Kathy sat for a long time before the fire, while Ben worked at his desk. Finally she said, "You knew he had a knife, didn't you, Ben?"

"I suspected it."

"You could have ordered him searched and disarmed."

"Could have, but didn't." He leaned back in the chair. "Before you get all misty-eyed and filled with moral indignation, know this: Clarence 'Sonny' Fontaine was a warlord. He traded French civilians to the creepies in return for the safety of himself and his gang. He's been on Rene Seaux's most-wanted list for years. He dealt in human misery. If his death somehow diminishes you, then we'd better call off our relations.h.i.+p right now, Kathy."

"I have never in my life seen a man as cold-blooded as you, Ben."

"Then you'd better be glad Sonny Fontaine didn't get his hands on you, baby."

"Don't call me baby!"

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William W. Johnstone Ben chuckled. "All right, Kathy. We had our little fling, and we both enjoyed it while it lasted. Now it's over. Go on back to your out-of-touch-with-reality friends. Wallow in your newly restored liberalism. It's been fun. Good night."

With her eyes flas.h.i.+ng fire, Kathy Bonham rose from the chair and stalked out into the Paris mist, almost running into Buddy.

Buddy wisely and very quickly sidestepped her and entered the room, walking up to his father's desk. "You are h.e.l.l on women, father." When Ben did not reply, he asked, "You think she'll be back?"

"I haven't any idea, son. But if you're asking for a guess, I would say no."

"Pity."

Ben shrugged that away, and his son laughed at him. "You'll never change, father. Someday you must tell me what qualities you are searching for in a woman."

Ben smiled and said, "I don't know that I have any set criteria, son.

Just someone that I can get along with and who can get along with me, I suppose. Although sometimes I think G.o.d has not yet created that woman."

"Or you just haven't found her yet," Buddy said. He walked over to the closet to hang up his dripping raincoat just as Ben dropped a pencil on the floor and bent down to pick it up.

The room suddenly exploded in sound and fury and flames and Ben fellspinning into blackness.

203 Ben never really lost consciousness, but for a couple of minutes he was addled and unable to make much sense out of what was happening, nor was he able to move his legs. He was cognizant of heavy gunfire and much yelling. Then it dawned on him that his legs were pinned under the rubble that was once his desk.

Rocket attack! His brain finally started working. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds must have had tunnels under us.

"Dad!" he heard Buddy calling his name through the ringing in his ears.

"The d.a.m.n desk has me pinned, boy. And probably part of the roof as well. Get some people in here."

Buddy didn't wait for help. He muscled the rubble off his father and helped Ben to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just p.i.s.sed off, that's all. Where's my team?"

"I don't know. Probably outside in the fight." Both men had to shout to be heard over the yammering of automatic weapons and the smash of grenades.

Ben found his Thompson and wiped it clean of dust.

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William W. Johnstone Fires started by other rockets tossed enough light through the blown-out windows of the house so Ben could see his weapon was not damaged.

Ben's team began to gather. Due to the construction of the home, Corrie had set up her radio in another room, and she and Beth were all right.

Cooper had been outside, and he was unhurt. Jersey had just closed the door to the latrine behind the house. The latrine had blown over, trapping her inside, and except for her pride, she was unhurt. Jersey ran in the back door, cussing a blue streak.

"Talk about getting caught with your pants down," Cooper said with a grin.

Jersey gave him a look that was guaranteed to stop an angry grizzly.

"It's a coordinated attack against all battalions!" Corrie called from the radio room. "Pat, Tina, and Rebet have been forced to yield ground.

The others are holding."

From memory, Ben reviewed the positions of his battalions. "Have Ike and Georgi s.h.i.+ft some people over to help 10, 9, and 6 regain that ground, Have that special ops company with Dan's 3 Batt a.s.sist."

"They've broken through the rear!" a Rebel shouted. "Heads up inside the CP.".

Ben turned to a blown-out window and fired at robed shapes running toward the house. One second later his team was firing, filling the smoky, explosive night with lead. There was no time for talk.

Buddy's weapon had been shattered by the first rocket, and he hadsmashed open a box of pineapples and was hurling Fire-Frag grenades into the misty 205.

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night. The shrapnel-filled mini-bombs were doing terrible damage to the now wavering and broken line of Night People.