Part 6 (1/2)
”Looking for its sister brigades from which it was separated when the 116th Mechanized, in its hurry to reach Moscow, cut through their column.”
”The 116th Mechanized?” Kodorovich exclaimed again. He wanted to stop talking in questions but all this was coming so fast and unexpectedly.
”Don't even inquire of me about them,” Plekoskaya said, shuddering.
”They are so disorganized and tangled with two other armored divisions whose designations I don't even know. It all happened because they were trying to outrace each other to the trunk highway and they arrived at the intersection almost simultaneously. You can't possibly imagine the hideous clatter when you have two stubborn armored divisions and an obstinate mechanized one all trying to occupy the same road at once. I could hear it all the way back here.” Plekoskaya belched delicately.
”General, do wash off the dust of the road and join me at table.”
[Ill.u.s.tration]
”No thank you. If that's all the delay is, it should be cleared soon and we'll be moving again. I'll want to be with my division.”
”General Kodorovich, you evidently don't understand what has happened.
The word that has been pa.s.sed from the most forward units, which are in the city itself, to the rear ones, indicates that Moscow is the hub of one vast military traffic jam thirty to perhaps fifty miles deep and growing worse all the time as new groups are moving in.”
”But I must get to the city,” Kodorovich insisted. ”I have orders to surround the Kremlin, seal off MVD headquarters and--”
”Ease your mind,” Plekoskaya interrupted. ”The Kremlin is well surrounded. General Smolledin is deployed around the walls; General Alexeiev is deployed around General Smolledin; General Paretsev is deployed around Alexeiev and so on to the outskirts of the city. Those of us out here, of course, cannot deploy off the roads, for, who knows, tomorrow the Minister of Agriculture may be Premier and he may not take it kindly if we trample the collectives.”
”How can you just sit there and do nothing when the people's government is in some kind of danger?” Kodorovich said with some heat.
”It is very simple,” Plekoskaya said with mild irritation and sarcasm.
”I merely bend at the knees and hips and have a lunch of a weight adequate enough to keep me from floating off my chair and rus.h.i.+ng about seeking trouble. Of course it takes years of experience to learn how to do this and most important, _when_.” In kindlier tones Plekoskaya continued. ”Whatever it is that is happening in the Kremlin and the other hotbeds of intrigue will have to happen without us. There is no telling who, if anyone, is in control. Conflicting orders have been coming over the military radio depending upon which clique controls which headquarters. Why do you know, my dear Kodorovich, already this morning the 124th has alternately been ordered to march to Moscow and a dozen other places including downtown Siberia.”
Kodorovich did not smile at Plekoskaya's slight humor. He was squinting anxiously through the bright sunlight at the immobile column of men and vehicles jammed along the road into the far, blue distance.
Plekoskaya took a sip of wine. ”There is obviously some kind of political readjustment going on within the government and the unpleasant thing about these little disturbances is that one can never be certain who will emerge to inform the people that he is their unanimous choice for leader. So don't be in so much of a hurry to rush off to Moscow to commit yourself. You might pick the wrong one.”
Kodorovich shrugged and sat down at the table. ”Perhaps you are right.
Do you have any idea who is involved this time?”
”Who isn't involved?” Plekoskaya snorted. ”You and I know, as sensible men must, that in our milieu there are at any given moment thousands of intrigues and plots and counterplots simmering away in the Party halls, the ministries, the barracks and anywhere else you care to look. Of course it is treason, don't misunderstand, general, but most of it is really quite harmless. It is the national pastime of the power elite; a sort of political mah-jongg and most of these little bubbling kettles cool and sour from inaction. However, this time, it is evident that some drastic catalyst has caused a most violent reaction of these subversive ingredients and the incredible, one in a million possibility has occurred. All the pots are suddenly, all at once, boiling over ...
erupting into action!
”By the way,” Plekoskaya continued with a smile, ”you might be interested to know that when I reach Moscow I am supposed to relieve you of command of the 71st and place you under arrest for unsocialistic activities.”
Kodorovich, looking dazed, took a gla.s.s of wine. ”Who signed your orders?”
”Major Lemchovsky of the MVD.”
Kodorovich smiled for the first time since they had met under the trees.
”I have orders for your arrest also, to take effect when we reach Moscow; signed by Major Kamashev, MVD.”
”I'm sorry,” Plekoskaya said, ”but you will have to wait your turn. The commanders of the 116th and the 48th are both ahead of you.”
Kodorovich suddenly stood up frowning and stared around at the fields where the peasants were working. ”I don't like the way those people keep glancing at the troops and snickering. I can hear some of their remarks.”