Without remorse - Tom Clancy [254]
His uniform needed pressing. The humidity here attacked the cotton fibers, making his usually crisp blouse look like pajamas, and he was already on his third set of shoes, Grishanov thought, sipping, now at his tea and going over notes from the previous night's interrogations. All work and no play ... and he was already late. He tried to light a cigarette, but the humidity had also rendered his matches useless. Well, he had the cook stove for that. Where had he left his lighter ..?
There were compensations, if you could call them that. The Vietnamese soldiers treated him with respect, almost awe - except for the camp commander, Major Vinh, worthless bastard that he was. Courtesy to a fellow socialist ally demanded that Grishanov be given an orderly, in this case a small, ignorant peasant boy with only one eye who was able to make the bed and carry out the slops bowl every morning. The Colonel was able to walk out in the knowledge that his room would be somewhat tidy when he returned. And he had his work. Important, professionally stimulating. But he would have killed for his morning Sowetskiy Sport.
'Good morning, Ivan,' Kelly whispered to himself. He didn't even need the binoculars for that. The size was so different - the man was over six feet - and the uniform far neater than that worn by the NVA. The glasses showed Kelly the man's face, pale and florid, with a narrowed-eye expression to contemplate the day. He made a gesture to a small private who'd been waiting outside the door of the officers' quarters. Orderly, KeUy thought. A visiting Russian colonel would like his comforts, wouldn't he? Definitely a pilot from the wings over the blouse pocket, plenty of ribbons. Only one? Kelly wondered. Only one Russian officer to help torture the prisoners? Odd when you think about it. But that meant only one extraneous person to have to kill, end for all his lack of political sophistication, Kelly knew that killing Russians wouldn't do anyone much good. He watched the Russian walk across the parade ground. Then the senior visible Vietnamese officer, a major, went towards him. Another limper, Kelly saw. The little Mayor saluted the tall Colonel.
'Good morning, Comrade Colonel.'
'Good morning, Major Vinh.' Little bastard can't even learn to salute property. Perhaps he simply cannot make a proper gesture to his betters. 'The rations for the prisoners?'
'They will have to be satisfied with what they have,' the smaller man replied in badly accented and phrased Russian.
'Major, it is important that you understand me,' Grishanov said, stepping closer so that he could look more sharply down at the Vietnamese. 'I need the information they have. I cannot get it if they are too sick to speak.'
'Tovarisch, we have problems enough feeding our own people. You ask us to waste good food on murderers?' The Vietnamese soldier responded quietly, using a tone that both conveyed his contempt for the foreigner and at the same tune seemed respectful to his soldiers, who would not have understood exactly what this was all about. After all, they thought that the Russians were fast allies.
'Your people do not have what my country needs, Major. And if my country gets what she needs, then your country might get more of what it needs.'
'I have my orders. If you are experiencing difficulty in questioning the Americans, then I am prepared to help.' Arrogant dog. It was a suffix that didn't need to be spoken, and Vinh knew how to stick his needle into a sensitive place.
'Thank you, Major. That will not be necessary.' Grishanov made a salute himself, even sloppier than that given him by this annoying little man. It would be good to watch him die, the Russian thought, walking off to the prison block. His first 'appointment' with the day was with an American