Armageddon_ A Novel of Berlin - Leon Uris [157]
Blatty waited until he had spent his passion. “Inasmuch as Colonel Trepovitch refuses to recognize the orderly procedures and is attempting to submit us to anarchy, I adjourn this council.”
The Russian jumped to his feet, pointed a finger at Blatty, and further accused him of covering the American crime. He snapped out orders to subordinates, and began to stuff his briefcase. The obvious threat of a walkout existed.
“Gentlemen,” Neal Hazzard said, uttering his first words, “I am completely willing to waive the other order of business to take up the Soviet Union’s charges.”
“That is commendable,” the French commandant said quickly, “and in keeping with the spirit of working together.”
“Sporting gesture,” Blatty said, “but if we permit this we would be endorsing chaos.”
Son of a bitch, Hazzard thought. Between the two of them, you could go nuts. Blatty was so adamant he would even allow a disastrous Soviet walkout.
“I’d like a vote,” Hazzard said.
“I will veto if I am outvoted,” Blatty warned.
Hazzard had guessed that part of Trepovitch’s tirade was pure play acting, but the Englishman was genuine in his stodginess.
“Yes or no?” Trepovitch demanded.
“Sir! Does His Majesty’s Government take that to be an ultimatum!”
The Russian continued with the business of preparing to walk out.
“I propose a ten-minute recess,” Jacques Belfort said.
It was stiffly agreed to by all parties.
When the session reconvened, T. E. Blatty made a final stubborn retreat. “Inasmuch as I am rotating the chairmanship to my French colleague tomorrow and inasmuch as Colonel Hazzard voices no objections, I will recognize a change in the agenda provided that Colonel Trepovitch places his proposition in the form of a request rather than a demand.”
Face had been saved.
“It is a request,” Trepovitch agreed. He replaced his glasses, sat, unloaded his briefcase.
“You heard the charges, Colonel Hazzard. Are you prepared to answer?”
Hazzard nodded, looked over his shoulder to Lieutenant Bolinski, who had the crash job of investigating the case and preparing the report overnight. Bo sat beside Hazzard and read slowly.
“Three soldiers of the Soviet occupation forces were intercepted in the act of committing armed robbery against a dozen German civilians at the Südende elevated station at approximately 1630 yesterday evening. An American peace officer arrived on the scene and attempted to dissuade the Soviet soldiers and to have them return to their sector. One of the Soviet soldiers fired several shots at the feet of the American peace officer from a submachine gun, and further menaced him to a point where the American peace officer had no choice but to disarm him and otherwise defend himself. The other two Soviet soldiers reached for their side arms against the advice of the American peace officer, and when they refused to comply were shot dead.”
“A fabric of lies!”
Bolinski placed a sheaf of papers on the desk. “These are the supporting statements of the twelve German civilians and a German police officer.”
“The Soviet Union will never accept the testimony of fascist liars. I demand to interrogate the aggressor you are hiding.”
“Colonel Trepovitch,” Hazzard said, “one of your people escaped. He should be easy enough to find. He’s most likely in the same unit as the two men who were killed. If you will produce him, we will produce our peace officer.”
Trepovitch changed the subject. “Do we kill your soldiers? Are they not all welcome in the Soviet Sector? What about your black marketeers with their cigarettes? Do we send them back in coffins?”
Hazzard knew now that Trepovitch really did not want an investigation but satisfaction. He answered deliberately. “According to rules adopted by this body we categorized major and minor crimes of our occupation forces. Petty black-marketeering and the breaking of nonfraternization are in a misdemeanor category. However, rape, murder, armed robbery, and assault are considered by this Kommandatura as major crimes.” He nodded to Bolinski, who was