The End is Coming

Chapter Forty-nine

They walked in total silence, in darkness save for the bright moon, through the park. Captain Vladov led the way with his three men, Vladov and his men in black camouflaged-pattern fatigues, their faces and hands blackened as well.

They reached what Rourke recognized as Co-lumbus Drive, the street running parallel to the lakefront and Lake Shore Drive itself. The foun-tain at the middle of the square now seemed odd—no lights, no water—stillness.

Vladov waited behind bushes near the street, signaling silently to one of his men—the man ran to the curb, then signalling. Vladov whispered hoarsely-“Hurry!”

Vladov ran ahead, Rourke and Natalia running abreast behind him, the two other men following, Rourke recognizing their rifles as the new 5.45 mm AKS 74s—Vladov and his men were paratroop-ers—he could tell from the stylized berets, and likely the Soviet equivalent of Special Forces. They halted in dead underbrush—but in the moonlight Rourke could see sprigs of pale green—new life. Vladov, a pistol in his right hand—he had car-ried it since Rourke had first set eyes on him—turned, still crouched, saying, “Your uncle, major—my men and I have been patrolling the park each night, a similar patrol on the far side of the museum—he almost despaired, comrade,” and the man smiled at her—warmly.

“So had I,” she laughed softly. “Almost de-spaired.”

“There’s no need to speak in English—I speak Russian,” Rourke advised Vladov.

“Very good,” Vladov nodded, slipping into Rus-sian then. “The comrade general—he is watched by some of the residual forces of the KGB—but Colonel Rozhdestvenskiy is no longer here—it is rumored he has gone to a place in Colorado called The Womb. Our forces mass for an attack against United States II, but this is senseless commitment of troops—these are your uncle’s words, comrade major—there is something afoot.”

Rourke studied the man’s gun as he listened to him. “What are you doing with a Smith & Wesson automatic and the AKS-74 assault rifle?”

“You are observant, Dr. Rourke—we are the So-viet equivalent of your—” and he said the next two words in English— “Special Forces. Officers are allowed to choose their own personal weapons, and we are all issued the AKS-74—it is more effi-cient. Now,” and he seemed to dismiss the subject, “we shall make all good speed to the museum—the guard posted at the main entrance is friendly to our cause—but we must hurry,” and he rolled back the cuff of his black and dark green night jacket—the watch was a Rolex. “The guard will change in less than forty-five minutes.” “My uncle,” Natalia asked.

“He is well?” “The comrade general is well—yes, comrade major,” Vladov grinned, adding, “and as tough a man as ever. It will gladden his heart that you are well.” And he looked at Rourke, “But we must hurry—there will be no need for shooting—you see, I have looked at your guns.”

“I hope you’re right,” Rourke only told him. And then, Vladov in the lead, they began to run again.