"Yes." He glanced at his watch. A couple of hours before dark. No way he could get his people up there in that time. The Interstate was in bad shape and getting worse. But Dan knew he had to try. The a.s.sault was coming tonight; he could feel it. "I'll take my people and pull out now. We'll be traveling fast, so we won't have artillery to back us."

"I'll start artillery moving north now. Just in case you're wrong about the timing."

"I pray that I am wrong. But I fear that I am correct."

Duluth was filled with creepies so the Rebels stayed well away from the city. They would deal with the cannibalistic creeps at a later date.

Khamsin and his men turned west off a state road in Wisconsin and entered Minnesota on what was left of a country road, crossing over the state line about fifteen miles south of Duluth. Only two squads of Rebels were at that point and Khamsin's men butchered them, knocking a hole in the thin line through which the terrorist armies poured into the state.

Dan was on Interstate 35, south and west of the breakthrough when he got the news.

Dan lost his cool and cut loose with a steady stream of profanity. Not so much that his prey had broken through, but for the men and women lost in the a.s.sault.

He jerked up his mic. "Rebet and Danjou join up with me," he ordered. "General Striganov, they have broken through. When Voleta hears of this, she'll attack."

"I'll start my people moving south to beef up the forces in Missouri," the Russian radioed. "Do you want the artillery I sent to continue following you?"

"That is ten-four, General. The logical route for Villar to take is Highway Two-ten, so I'm betting he'll cut north and take Highway Two. I'm taking my people and Rebet and Danjou's forces and taking two-ten. I'll stay under him and try to cut him off somewhere along the way."

"That is affirmative, Colonel Gray. I will have the artillery cut east, following you.

G.o.dspeed." "It was a friggin" piece of cake," Villar said to his driver. "And I let that G.o.dd.a.m.n Libyan take it. Ill never hear the end of it."

The driver wanted to say: So what? We got across, didn't we?

But he didn't.

They crossed the Interstate, picked up Highway 33, and took that to Highway 2, cutting west.

Villar had no illusions: he knew that Dan Gray would be hot after them. Only one thing would stop Colonel Gray, and that was death. Villar also felt that if there was some sort of existence after death, if Dan Gray didn't get him in this life, he would in the next.

Villar knew something else, too; something that he had not shared at length with the others: there was no way they were going to win this fight, or any other fight against Ben Raines and the Rebels.

Raines had thought it all out and had it perfected. The son of a b.i.t.c.h had spent years going all over the nation, collecting every tank, every piece of artillery, and hauling it off to only he and G.o.d and a few Rebels knew where. And no one was going to win against Ben Raines without long-range artillery and tanks. And to make matters worse, Raines had done the same thing with cars and trucks too. He was more than a warrior. He was a thinker, a planner, a teacher, a philosopher, and a doer.

"We're going to look this situation over with Ma-lone," Villar said. "We might even stay awhile. But we'll eventually pull out."

"To where?" his driver asked.

"The one place that, to the best of my knowledge, Raines had never shown any interest in."

"And that is?"

"Alaska!"

"Here they come!" sentries all up and down the line shouted into their mics as Voleta's army began advancing toward Columbia and Jefferson City.

"Fall back!" the order from Ben went up and down the line.

The sentries on the east side of the river beat it back across the bridge and watched as Voleta's forces took control of the airport.

"Airport's in their hands, now," they radioed to Ben's CP.

"Let them have it," Ben said, as much to himself as to the others in the room. "They won't do anything with it.

They d.a.m.n sure don't have any planes and if they try to cross that river at night, we'll be waiting for them when they step ash.o.r.e." In Columbia, as Ben had done in Jefferson City, West had pulled his battalion into the center of the city. Tanks had been rammed inside buildings and hidden, the muzzles of the 90mm and 105's lowered to the max. The .50-caliber machine gun emplacements were set up and heavily fortified with sandbags. Each Rebel had food enough for several days and boxes of ammo, grenades, rockets and mortar rounds.

In both cities, the Rebels waited.

Voleta halted her troops on the outskirts of the suburbs and called for a meeting of her commanders.

"Not a shot has been fired," she said. "Have we been mislead? Is Ben Raines even in the city?"

"He's there," she was told. "And we have not been mislead."

"Then why is he doing nothing?"

"Perhaps the man has lost his mind," another commander offered that. It got him a dirty look from Voleta but she let him continue. "He's placed himself in a death trap. He can't cross the Missouri River. Our people have taken control of the airport and Highway Fifty-four. . . ."

What the commander failed to realize was that Ben had heavy artillery up and down West Main and Capitol Avenue, and it was slightly less than two miles from there to the airport. Ben could annihilate Voleta's forces across the river at any time he so desired.

"dis . . As far as I can see, Sister, General Raines has put himself in a box and nailed the lid shut . . ."

Ben was in a box, all right, but it was a box of his own construction. Over the years, the Rebels had become not only the most feared guerrilla fighters anywhere in the nation comand probably around the globe comb they had also become highly expert at urban warfare. Voleta's army was made up of dedicated men and women, but d.a.m.n few true, disciplined soldiers among the bunch. They outnumbered the Rebels in this battle, but the Rebels were used to being outnumbered. They would have felt they were taking advantage of the enemy if they were on a par.

"dis . . Before you halted the advance, Sister, our troops in Columbia had penetrated well into the city limits and had met no hostile action. The city appears deserted . . ."

Columbia was anything but deserted. Like Jefferson City, it was a deadly trap waiting to be sprung. West, limping around with a cast on his foot, had laid out his battle plans well. His mercenary troops lay still as death's touch, waiting.

"dis . . We have intercepted radio messages that tell us the Russian is on his way south, to beef up General McGowan and his troops. Sister, without Ben Raines, the Rebels will fall apart.

If we are to succeed, we must strike now, and strike hard!"

There was truth in what the man said, but still Voleta was not convinced. She knew Ben too well; knew him for the fanged poisonous snake that he was; knew how treacherous the man could be. If Ben Raines had put himself into a box, he had a hole from which to escape. She would bet her bra.s.siere on that.

If she wore a bra.s.siere. Which she didn't.

And Ben had guessed accurately on another point. He had guessed that after the debacle in the Northwest, where Voleta's troops had taken a battering, she would be low on mortar rounds. And she was. She still had plenty of ammo for light weapons, but practically no rockets or mortars.

"Get those d.a.m.nable motorcyclists up here," she ordered. The leader of the bunch, Satan, stepped into the tent moments later. He didn't like this b.i.t.c.h, and knew she didn't like him. But for Satan's bunch, it was the best game in town, so he'd take orders from her . . . for a while longer, anyway.

"I want a recon team sent into the city, Satan. I want them to penetrate as far as Southwest Boulevard. Here!" she showed him the map.

"And report back to me."

"That ain't no sweat, lady," the huge, evil-looking biker said. "I don't even think Ben Raines is in the d.a.m.n city."

"There is one way to find out," she said, smiling as sweetly as was possible for her. Her smile held all the warmth of a striking cobra. "Go in and look."

Satan stood his ground. "You know what I'm gonna do when all this s.h.i.t is over, lady?"

"I couldn't possibly imagine," she replied.

"Or care," she added.

"Oh, you'll care, all right. You an ugly wh.o.r.e, but I think you got a couple more good f.u.c.ks in you.

When this is over, me and you is gonna get it on."

She spat in his face and flung out a hand just in time to prevent the others in the tent from shooting the biker. Laughing, Satan left the room. "Yeah, baby," he called over his shoulder. "I might even let you get some lipstick on my dipstick."

"That is the most disgusting creature I have ever encountered, Sister," a commander said. "Why don't you let me shoot him?"

"Because while he is a loathsome being, we do need him," she said sourly. "At least for a little while longer."

"Or some stain on my thing!" Satan hollered from the outside.

"Ashley was a coward," a woman said. "But at least he would show some respect for you."

"Ashley was a fool," Voleta said, as the sounds of motorcycles leaving the camp roared into her ears. "But I have to admit, he was a pleasant fool."

"Leave the light on, baby!" Satan screamed as he roared past. "I might decide to jolly you tonight."

Voleta grimaced and gave the voice the finger.

"Don't fire on the bikers," Ben warned his people. "Don't make a sound. Keep your heads down and let's see how far they penetrate."

The Rebels burrowed deeper in the homes and buildings and dark alleyways. Most had changed from lizard and tiger-stripe to dark urban BDU'S.

With the moonless night, they were almost invisible.

The team of bikers split up, some traveling on Highway 50, others turning onto Stadium Boulevard and then onto Edgewood, with all of them stopping at Southwest Boulevard. Satan waited at the intersection for his bikers to regroup.

"s.h.i.t, Satan!" one said. "There ain't n.o.body left in this town."

Satan looked all around him, doing his best to peer through the darkness. "Shut "em down," he ordered.

The bikers cut their engines and the following silence was heavy.

"Fan out," Satan said. "Inspect the buildings." Satan left his Hog and walked across the road, to a line of office buildings.

Cautiously, he pushed open the door with the muzzle of his Uzi and clicked on a flashlight, the beam strong in the murk.

The narrow beam of light picked up the litter on the floor. It showed him the unmarked dust and undisturbed cobwebs. What it did not show him was how the Rebels had entered the building with- out disturbing anything. Ladders. Few Rebels were on the ground floor anywhere in the city. They had climbed up ladders to the second and third floors and set up their machine gun emplacements, then another team removed the ladders and went on to another location.

The oudaw bikers inspected a dozen buildings along the road and found nothing to indicate the Rebels were anywhere close.

Which is exactly what [Ben wanted them to think.

Soon, if all went according to plan, Ben and his Rebels would not be the only ones in a box. But Ben and Rebels would be in control of that box.

"It was a d.a.m.n trick all the time!" Satan said, kicking at a beer can that had laid in the street for years, still just as shiny as the day it rolled off the line.

"What you mean?"

"I bet you Ben Raines ain't even in this city.

I bet you he left a few soldier boys and girls downtown and he hauled his a.s.s off to the north, chasin" that Villar-what's-his-name."

"I bet you right, Satan."

The outlaw biker lifted his walkie-talkie.

"It's clean in here," he radioed. "They might be some Rebs downtown, but they ain't any out here. Come on in." "Fall back," Voleta ordered. "We'll enter the city at dawn."

"That woman beats all I ever seen," Satan said. "If she don't screw no better than she gives orders, I don't think I want any of it."

"She's ordered the bikers back," Gorrie told Ben, after monitoring the transmissions. "They'll enter the city at dawn."

"Stay on the tach frequency and order no fires, no lights of any kind. Maintain noise discipline. Tell them to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

At dawn, Voleta ordered her troops into the cities of Jefferson City and Columbia.

"Take what few Rebels are in the cities alive," she ordered. "I want to torture them.

We can have days of pleasure with them."

Satan shook his head. It wasn't that he minded seeing people tortured comhe kind of liked it, especially when it lasted a long time and they screamed a lot comb with Rebels this close around them, wherever they were, it just seemed like a waste of valuable time.

"It's chancy from here on in," Ben said to his staff. "At any time, one of those kooks could look up and see a gun emplacement or the muzzle of a tank; or a Rebel could sneeze. Anything might happen. We can't wait much longer."

"You were very lucky last night," Voleta told Satan. "The Rebels are famous for b.o.o.by-trapping buildings." She turned to her radio operator. "Tell the people to stay out of the buildings. Inspect them through the windows."

Ben listened to the orders being given and smiled.

"That's right, Voleta. Play it cautiously, you witch. And come on in."

Buddy's face was impa.s.sive as he stood in the command post, listening to his father. This had been a very chancy move for his father to make, and not one that the other Rebel commanders liked. But so far, it was working.

"The points of the column have moved past Boonville Road, Ellis Avenue, and have reached Fifty-four near the downtown," Corrie informed them.

"Let them come," Ben said, his voice calm.

"Father," Buddy said. "Taking chances is one thing.

But we are going to be smelling the stink of them in a moment."

"That's right," Ben said cheerfully. The sounds of the advancing vehicles could now be clearly heard on the second floor of the CP.