of fish, of course.”
“If secrecy is so important,” Rourke asked Mann, “how were you able to arrange that the animals be here?”
“Since horses had a potential military value, they were naturally assigned to the armed forces. The commander of the unit which is in charge of their breeding and their training is one of us—one of those who oppose the leader and work for the freedom of Deiter Bern. Hence, the horses which await us.”
Rourke found himself watching Natalia—she was slowly approaching one of the animals, a massive bay with white stockings all around and a white blaze on the head, the animal pawing at the ground with apparent nervous energy.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Rourke told Mann. “If this all works out successfully, after we’ve dealt with the Russians, if I can find a way of getting them from here to Georgia, we’ll—”
“Horses?Of course. They are the best, I have read—a crossbreed of Arabian and American quarter horses. Stamina, intelligence, speed. They have been bred for nothing else.”
Rourke had already seen the animal he wanted for himself—it reminded him of his own horse, Sam, which he had not seen since before The Night of The War, Sam who had so well served Sarah and his children in the earlier stages of their flight. It was darker—more gray than white, the forehead broad, the Arabian in it showing strongly, with black stockings, flowing black mane and tail.
“Are any of these animals owned privately—or a man’s special mount?”
“You see a special one—which?”
“The gray—is he—”
“He is yours, Doctor Rourke, You have made a fine choice, I think. And as to the other mounts, all that you request which we can supply—for your entire family, if you like.”
There was a saddle at The Retreat. A very special saddle that had been given to him years before The Night of The War when an assignment he had had caused him to work with DEA and the Mexican authorities in breaking up a ring of terrorists. The Mexican he had worked most closely with had shipped the saddle to him. With the big Mexican horn and the high cantle, the leather intricately tooled.
It was black—completely. With the big gray, it would go well.
“All right—thank you.” Rourke nodded, leaving Mann, walking toward the animal. He would not call the horse Sam after his own mount from so long ago. A name5 was an individual thing. And he struck on the perfect name for the horse—he would call it Wolf, after the man who had given it to him. But he would not say the name aloud—not just now.
They had landed some considerable distance from The Complex, Mann proclaiming that the electronically enhanced scan of the radar system above the complex was too sensitive to be risked.
Natalia rode ahead, beside Elaine Halverson—both women rode well. Kurirnami, in the lead just ahead of them and beside Mann’s haupsturmfuehrer, looked somehow strange, his baseball cap, his white coveralls.
And just ahead of Rourke, Rourke and Mann bringing up the rear, rode Sarah, beside one of Mann’s men who was practicing his English. Rourke watched his wife—the loving way she touched at the bay mare. It was almost identical to her horse, Tildie, lost at the same time
Rourke’s horse Sam was lost after a narrow escape from the swollen lake and the bursting of a dam.
Rourke thought of Michael—Sarah had told him of Michael’s bravery, as had Annie years later.
Wolfgang Mann began speaking again and Rourke tuned the man in. “I early became fascinated with the history of the place we call The Complex. Its earliest beginnings, its construction. Like most officers, I have a degree in engineering. It was forbidden to travel in the tunnels beneath The Complex and surrounding it, forbidden because there were many possible dangers from cave in and rock slides. But like most young men, I cared little for danger and more for adventure. So I explored the tunnels without the knowledge of my parents or my
“If secrecy is so important,” Rourke asked Mann, “how were you able to arrange that the animals be here?”
“Since horses had a potential military value, they were naturally assigned to the armed forces. The commander of the unit which is in charge of their breeding and their training is one of us—one of those who oppose the leader and work for the freedom of Deiter Bern. Hence, the horses which await us.”
Rourke found himself watching Natalia—she was slowly approaching one of the animals, a massive bay with white stockings all around and a white blaze on the head, the animal pawing at the ground with apparent nervous energy.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Rourke told Mann. “If this all works out successfully, after we’ve dealt with the Russians, if I can find a way of getting them from here to Georgia, we’ll—”
“Horses?Of course. They are the best, I have read—a crossbreed of Arabian and American quarter horses. Stamina, intelligence, speed. They have been bred for nothing else.”
Rourke had already seen the animal he wanted for himself—it reminded him of his own horse, Sam, which he had not seen since before The Night of The War, Sam who had so well served Sarah and his children in the earlier stages of their flight. It was darker—more gray than white, the forehead broad, the Arabian in it showing strongly, with black stockings, flowing black mane and tail.
“Are any of these animals owned privately—or a man’s special mount?”
“You see a special one—which?”
“The gray—is he—”
“He is yours, Doctor Rourke, You have made a fine choice, I think. And as to the other mounts, all that you request which we can supply—for your entire family, if you like.”
There was a saddle at The Retreat. A very special saddle that had been given to him years before The Night of The War when an assignment he had had caused him to work with DEA and the Mexican authorities in breaking up a ring of terrorists. The Mexican he had worked most closely with had shipped the saddle to him. With the big Mexican horn and the high cantle, the leather intricately tooled.
It was black—completely. With the big gray, it would go well.
“All right—thank you.” Rourke nodded, leaving Mann, walking toward the animal. He would not call the horse Sam after his own mount from so long ago. A name5 was an individual thing. And he struck on the perfect name for the horse—he would call it Wolf, after the man who had given it to him. But he would not say the name aloud—not just now.
They had landed some considerable distance from The Complex, Mann proclaiming that the electronically enhanced scan of the radar system above the complex was too sensitive to be risked.
Natalia rode ahead, beside Elaine Halverson—both women rode well. Kurirnami, in the lead just ahead of them and beside Mann’s haupsturmfuehrer, looked somehow strange, his baseball cap, his white coveralls.
And just ahead of Rourke, Rourke and Mann bringing up the rear, rode Sarah, beside one of Mann’s men who was practicing his English. Rourke watched his wife—the loving way she touched at the bay mare. It was almost identical to her horse, Tildie, lost at the same time
Rourke’s horse Sam was lost after a narrow escape from the swollen lake and the bursting of a dam.
Rourke thought of Michael—Sarah had told him of Michael’s bravery, as had Annie years later.
Wolfgang Mann began speaking again and Rourke tuned the man in. “I early became fascinated with the history of the place we call The Complex. Its earliest beginnings, its construction. Like most officers, I have a degree in engineering. It was forbidden to travel in the tunnels beneath The Complex and surrounding it, forbidden because there were many possible dangers from cave in and rock slides. But like most young men, I cared little for danger and more for adventure. So I explored the tunnels without the knowledge of my parents or my
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