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And they were both burning their way directly at James and Kirkland. James started to back up pulling Kirkland with him. There were fragrances carried by those lightest of breezes, clean, fresh scents of newly awakened growth reaching for new life and renewal. There were places there for sitting, cleverly hollowed into the seeming stone. Some were so placed they would allow entrance into the pool. The attendant indicated one larger rock. The RUS would get it later, rather than sooner. RUS strategists growled as the Americans moved ever eastward, ever farther from defense of Russian population centers and nearer to the Bering Strait. The RUS were pulling their own armies back, intending to wall off European Russia using the Urals as a buffer, and still had the US Third Army to help. Besides, the Americans had left an entire army, with English and Canadian assault brigades, in Central Asia. Some members of the Council warned of duplicity here.
It was part of the initiation ceremony into the club. An added element of risk that, for these men, heightened their pleasure, and their sense of comradeship. I shall leave the jury with no doubt at all. So I mastered my full heart, I steeled, my wretched nerves, and braced my limp muscles for the task that lay before them. I stood against it on my toes, and I touched it with my finger-tips as high up as possible. Some four feet severed them from the coping that left only half a sky above my upturned eyes. It chugged off down the otherwise silent street, spewing dark clouds of exhaust into the grey dawn. He picked up his allowance of cigarettes before leaving, and handed out a few to the ferallooking urchins who loitered outside the gates. He gave Kurt Junghaus and Uli Trenkel the clean bills of political health that their loyalty undoubtedly warranted, and felt slightly worried that the NKVD would find such trust suspicious. Strohm, he said, would argue his case with intelligence, but accept those decisions that went against him. He would say that a Soviet acquaintance had been asking questions, and that he had told this fictitious character what he was in fact reporting to Nemedin.
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Then his right hand hit something that was not mud. The fingers weakened and the man fell to the side. He clung on, pain blooming in his ribs, circling his legs for something solid to kick against, but there was nothing there. The opening jutted out from the side of the mountain with nothing below it but a hundred-metre drop. Every time he tried to draw himself up, he lost a little ground, slipping back rather than inching forward. In the end he stopped moving altogether, locked in position, aware that if he carried on he would only keep slipping until he fell to his death. With a desperate effort he threw his right leg sideways, kicking it as high as he could. It caught the lip of the cave and stayed there. The dream was bad these days and Karen was not there to stand between him and the gas-chamber door. Fremont would take her to America now.
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