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Tamareztov could only stare incredulously.
A promise made is a promise kept." pit cradled the injured Russian's head and tilted the bottle to the man's lips. "Here, drink some of this."
Tamareztov easily drained a quarter of the bottle before Pitt eased it away. He nodded his head and mumbled his thanks.
Then his eyes took on a warm penetrating expression. "Domestic, true Soviet domestic-How in the world did you manage that?" he asked.
Pitt tucked the bottle in Tamareztov's armpit. ,it was on sale," he said. Then he rose and turned to leave.
"Major Pitt."
"Yes?"
"Thank You," Tamareztov said simply.
He was white with snow, lying there vacantly staring at the clouds when Pitt found him. His face, calm and serene, had the expression of a man untouched by pain, a man who was happy and content and at last at peace with himself. A medic was bending over, examining him.
"Heart?" Pitt asked softly, somehow afraid he might wake him.
"Considering his age, that's as safe a bet as any, sir." The medic turned and motioned to Hull, who was standing but a few 86
feet away.
"Shall we evacuate him, now, Captain?"
"Leave him lay," Hull said. "It's our job to save the living. This man is dead. As long as there is a chance to keep any one of these people from joining him, our attention must go to them."
"You're right, of course," Pitt said wearily. "This is your show, Captain. Hull's tone softened. "You know this man, sir?"
"I wish I had known him better. His name is Sam Kelly.
The name obviously meant nothing to Hull. 'y don't you let us take you topside, Major. You're in a pretty bad way yourself ."
."
Pitt reached over "No, I'll stay with Sam here and gently closed Kelly's eyes for the final time and lightly brushed the snowflakes from the old wrinkled face. Then he took a cigar he recognized as Sandecker's special brand from the box and slipped it into Kelly's breast pocket.
Hull stood unmoving for nearly a minute, groping for words. He started to say something but thought better of it and instead simply nodded his head in silent understanding. Then he turned and plunged back to work.
Sandecker closed the file and put it down and leaned forward as if he were about to spring. "If you're asking for my permission, the answer is an unequivocal no!"
"You plac me in an awkward position, Admiral."
The words came from a man who sat facing Sandecker.
He was short and seemed almost as broad as the chair.
He wore a nondescript black suit with a white shirt decorated by a black silk tie. Unconsciously, every so often, he ran his hand over a bald head as if searching for hair that once might have existed, and he peered through gray eyes that never blinked under Sandecker's blazing stare. "I had sincerely hoped we would have no disagreement. However, since that is not to be, I must inform you that my presence here is purely an act of courtesy. I already possess the orders for Major Pitts reassignment."
"By whose authority?" Sandecker asked.
"They were signed by the Secretary of Defense," the other man replied matterof-factly.
"You wouldn't mind showing me the orders," Sandecker said. He was playing his last pawn and he knew it.
"Very well." His opponent sighed. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a set of papers and handed them to Sandecker.
Silently the admiral read the orders. Then his lips twisted in a wry smile. "I didn't really stand a chance, did I?"
