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.The parachute was a huge black bellabove him, nearly invisible against the empty sky.Remo looked up.There was no sign of the Stratofighter.Good.They had madeit.Now all he had to do was the same.Remo had been in Moscow on previous CURE assignments, and knew the city.Hehad picked Red Square for his landing for two reasons: because it was thelargest open space in the heart of Moscow and because it was extremelywell-lit at night.He couldn't miss the iridescent blue streetlights thattransformed the square into a bowl of illumination.This, of course, meant that once Remo's parachute fell into that bowl, thedozens of gray-uniformed militsiya who patrolled the city couldn't miss seeinghim.And they didn't."Cron!" shouted a militiaman, bringing his AK-47 to bear on Remo's descendingstomach.Remo remembered that "cron" meant "stop," and tried to remember the Russianword for "how?" but gave it up when the man opened up with a warning shot.Other militiamen-Russia's version of policemen-came running, brandishingautomatic rifles and shouting loudly.Normally, even a half-dozen armed combatants would be a cinch for Remo tohandle, but not while slowly falling from a parachute.He might as well havebeen an ornament hung on a Christmas tree wearing a sign that read: "SHOOTME!"The warning shot snarled past Remo's shoulder.He was about forty feet off theground.Remo dug into his pockets for the loose change he suddenly rememberedwas still there and snapped a nickel back at the militiaman.The Russian went down with a slot in his forehead and a massive exit wound atPage 79ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlthe back of his skull.Remo didn't wait for the converging guards to openfire.He flipped pennies, dimes, quarters at every uniform in sight.The coinsleft his fingers at supersonic speed and wreaked devastating damage on bones,brains, and major organs.Within seconds, the first wave of challengers layscattered over the gray bricks of Red Square.Pedestrians ran screaming fromthe area.Remo wondered what Sister Mary Margaret would have said if she could see himnow.Reinforcements would be arriving soon, Remo knew.He didn't plan to stickaround and tangle with them.He tugged on the parachute shroud lines, spillingair, and tried to land inside the Kremlin Wall fronting Red Square.He didn'tmake it.Instead, Remo landed atop a long black Zil limousine that had stopped atSpassky Gate, waiting for the red light to turn green, signifying that the carwas cleared to enter the Kremlin.The light turned green just as Remo's feethit the Zil's roof with a dull thump.Remo cut himself free of the parachutewith short slashes of his Sinanju-hardened fingers and jumped from the carjust as the huge parachute spilled over the limousine, covering it like ablack shroud.The chauffeur emerged from behind the wheel shouting and swearing.He gottangled up in the silk chute for his trouble.Militiamen and a fewplainclothes KGB agents descended on the enshrouded Zil like angry hornets.They pulled and tore at the billowing fabric, uncovering the car.They almostshot the chauffeur before the owner of the Zil, the Indian ambassador toRussia, stepped out, demanding to know what the hell was going on.He wasignored while the KGB searched the car thoroughly.The senior KGB officer couldn't understand it.Who would parachute into RedSquare? And for what diabolical reason? More important, who was thisincredible hooligan? No one knew.He should have been under the parachute.Buthe was not.Was he perhaps hiding under the Zil? They looked.He was nothiding under the Zil.Then the KGB men and the militsiya noticed the still-open Spassky Gate andthey knew they were all in very serious trouble.Marshal Josef Steranko had the cushiest duty in all of the Red Army.He wasmarshall in charge of the defense of Moscow.It was a traditional post, veryimportant in times of war, but since Moscow had not been under military attacksince World War II, it was now largely ceremonial.A reward for a grizzled oldveteran of the Great Patriotic War.So it came as something of a shock when, watching television in his apartmentin the luxury tower of Moscow's Rossiya Hotel, Marshal Josef Steranko receivedthe first reports of a commando raid on the Russian capital city."Are you drunk?" demanded Steranko of the KGB chief, who had called himbecause he knew nowhere else to turn.For some strange reason, the GeneralSecretary was ignoring all incoming calls.There were rumors of hisassassination."No, Comrade Marshal," the KGB chief said."It is true.They landed in RedSquare itself.""Hold the line," said Steranko.His apartment overlooked Red Square.He wentto a window and looked down.He saw scores of militsiya running to and frolike ants.Chalk outlines where the dead had fallen showed clearly againstdarker stains.The Kremlin was ablaze with searchlights and armed soldierscrouched along the top of its red brick walls as if expecting a siege."My God," said Steranko huskily.It looked like Leningrad just before it fell.He hurried back to the phone, cursing."I want details," Steranko barked into the mouthpiece."Quickly!""Yes, Comrade Marshal," the KGB chief stuttered, and then launched into afrightening litany of atrocities the American Rangers had perpetrated onbeautiful Moscow.They had parachuted in, bold as cossacks.From Red Square,the Rangers had melted into the night.Unseen, they had removed Lenin's bodyfrom his glass coffin and placed him in a window of the great GUM departmentPage 80ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlstore, dressed in female clothes [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]