tc.redstormrising-第1部分

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1　…　The　Slow　Fuse 3
2　…　Odd　Man　In 8
3　…　Correlation　of　Forces 24
4　…　Maskirovka 32
5　…　Sailors　and　Spooks 38
6　…　The　Watchers 47
7　…　Initial　Observations 52
8　…　Further　Observations 61
9　…　A　Final　Look 64
10　…　Remember；　Remember 69
11　…　Order　of　Battle 77
12　…　Funeral　Arrangements 82
13。　…　The　Strangers　Arrive　and　Depart 86
14　…　Gas 98
15　…　The　Bastion　Gambit 108
16　…　Last　Moves/First　Moves 121
17　…　The　Frisbees　of　Dreamland 126
18　…　Polar　Glory 134
19　…　Journeys　End/Journeys　Begin 151
20　…　The　Dance　of　the　Vampires 167
21　…　Nordic　Hammer 188
22…　Ripostes 207
23　…　Returns 218
24　…　Rape 231
25　…　Treks 250
26　…　Impressions 260
27　…　Casualties 278
28　…　Breakthroughs 290
29　…　Remedies 307
30　…　Approaches 319
31　…　Demons 329
32　…　New　Names；　New　Faces 339
33　…　Contact 355
34　…　Feelers 372
35　…　Time　on　Target 377
36　…　Shootout　at　31　West！ 396
37　…　The　Race　of　the　Cripples 412
38　…　Stealth　on　the　Rocks 423
39　…　The　Shores　of　Stykklisholmur 437
40　…　The　Killing　Ground 465
41　…Targets　of　Opportunity 490
42　…　The　Resolution　of　Conflict 508
43…　A　Walk　in　the　Woods 531

　1　…　The　Slow　Fuse

NIZHNEVARTOVSK；　R。S。F。S。R。
They　moved　swiftly；　silently；　with　purpose；　under　a　crystalline；　star…filled　night　in　western　Siberia。　They　were　Muslims；　though　one　could　scarcely　have　known　it　from　their　speech；　which　was　Russian；　though　inflected　with　the　singsong　Azerbaijani　accent　that　wrongly　struck　the　senior　members　of　the　engineering　staff　as　entertaining。　The　three　of　them　had　just　pleted　a　plex　task　in　the　truck　and　train　yards；　the　opening　of　hundreds　of　loading　valves。　Ibrahim　Tolkaze　was　their　leader；　though　he　was　not　in　front。　Rasul　was　in　front；　the　massive　former　sergeant　in　the　MVD　who　had　already　killed　six　men　this　cold　night…three　with　a　pistol　hidden　under　his　coat　and　three　with　his　hands　alone。　No　one　had　heard　them。　An　oil　refinery　is　a　noisy　place。　The　bodies　were　left　in　shadows；　and　the　three　men　entered　Tolkaze's　car　for　the　next　part　of　their　task。
Central　Control　was　a　modern　three…story　building　fittingly　in　the　center　of　the　plex。　For　at　least　five　kilometers　in　all　directions　stretched　the　cracking　towers；　storage　tanks；　catalytic　chambers；　and　above　all　the　thousands　of　kilometers　of　large…diameter　pipe　which　made　Nizhnevartovsk　one　of　the　world's　largest　refining　plexes。　The　sky　was　lit　at　uneven　intervals　by　waste…gas　fires；　and　the　air　was　foul　with　the　stink　of　petroleum　distillates：　aviation　kerosene；　gasoline；　diesel　fuel；　benzine；　nitrogen　tetroxide　for　intercontinental　missiles；　lubricating　oils　of　various　grades；　and　plex　petrochemicals　identified　only　by　their　alphanumeric　prefixes。
They　approached　the　brick…walled；　windowless　building　in　Tolkaze's　personal　Zhiguli；　and　the　engineer　pulled　into　his　reserved　parking　place；　then　walked　alone　to　the　door　as　his　rades　crouched　in　the　back　seat。
Inside　the　glass　door；　Ibrahim　greeted　the　security　guard；　who　smiled　back；　his　hand　outstretched　for　Tolkaze's　security　pass。　The　need　for　security　here　was　quite　real；　but　since　it　dated　back　over　forty　years；　no　one　took　it　more　seriously　than　any　of　the　pro　forma　bureaucratic　plexities　in　the　Soviet　Union。　The　guard　had　been　drinking；　the　only　form　of　solace　in　this　harsh；　cold　land。　His　eyes　were　not　focusing　and　his　smile　was　too　fixed。　Tolkaze　fumbled　handing　over　his　pass；　and　the　guard　lurched　down　to　retrieve　it。　He　never　came　back　up。　Tolkaze's　pistol　was　the　last　thing　the　man　felt；　a　cold　circle　at　the　base　of　his　skull；　and　he　died　without　knowing　why…or　even　how。　Ibrahim　went　behind　the　guard's　desk　to　get　the　weapon　the　man　had　been　only　too　happy　to　display　for　the　engineers　he'd　protected。　He　lifted　the　body　and　moved　it　awkwardly　to　leave　it　slumped　at　the　desk…just　another　swing　shift　worker　asleep　at　his　post…then　waved　his　rades　into　the　building。　Rasul　and　Mohammet　raced　to　the　door。
〃It　is　time；　my　brothers。〃　Tolkaze　handed　the　AK…47　rifle　and　ammo　belt　to　his　taller　friend。
Rasul　hefted　the　weapon　briefly；　checking　to　see　that　a　round　was　chambered　and　the　safety　off。　Then　he　slung　the　ammunition　belt　over　his　shoulder　and　snapped　the　bayonet　in　place　before　speaking　for　the　first　time　that　night：　〃Paradise　awaits。〃
Tolkaze　posed　himself；　smoothed　his　hair；　straightened　his　tie；　and　clipped　the　security　pass　to　his　white　laboratory　coat　before　leading　his　rades　up　the　six　flights　of　stairs。
Ordinary　procedure　dictated　that　to　enter　the　master　control　room；　one　first　had　to　be　recognized　by　one　of　the　operations　staffers。　And　so　it　happened。　Nikolay　Barsov　seemed　surprised　when　he　saw　Tolkaze　through　the　door's　tiny　window。
〃You're　not　on　duty　tonight；　Isha。〃
〃One　of　my　valves　went　bad　this　afternoon　and　I　forgot　to　check　the　repair　status　before　I　went　off　duty。　You　know　the　one…the　auxiliary　feed　valve　on　kerosene　number　eight。　If　it's　still　down　tomorrow　we'll　have　to　reroute；　and　you　know　what　that　means。〃
Barsov　grunted　agreement。　〃True　enough；　Isha。〃　The　middle…aged　engineer　thought　Tolkaze　liked　the　semi…Russian　diminutive。　He　was　badly　mistaken。　〃Stand　back　while　I　open　this　damned　hatch。〃
The　heavy　steel　door　swung　outward。　Barsov　hadn't　been　able　to　see　Rasul　and　Mohammet　before；　and　scarcely　had　time　now。　Three　7。62mm　rounds　from　the　Kalashnikov　exploded　into　his　chest。
The　master　control　room　contained　a　duty　watch　crew　of　twenty；　and　looked　much　like　the　control　center　for　a　railroad　or　power　plant。　The　high　walls　were　crosshatched　with　pipeline　schematics　dotted　with　hundreds　of　lights　to　indicate　which　control　valve　was　doing　what。　That　was　only　the　main　display。　Individual　segments　of　the　system　were　broken　off　onto　separate　status　boards；　mainly　controlled　by　puter　but　constantly　monitored　by　half　the　duty　engineers。　The　staff　could　not　fail　to　note　the　sound　of　the　three　shots。
But　none　of　them　were　armed。
With　elegant　patience；　Rasul　began　to　work　his　way　across　the　room；　using　his　Kalashnikov　expertly　and　firing　one　round　into　each　watch　engineer。　At　first　they　tried　to　run　away…until　they　realized　that　Rasul　was　herding　them　into　a　corner　like　cattle；　killing　as　he　moved。　Two　men　bravely　got　on　their　mand　phones　to　summon　a　fast…response　team　of　KGB　security　troops。　Rasul　shot　one　of　them　at　his　post；　but　the　other　ducked　around　the　line　of　mand　consoles　to　evade　the　gunfire　and　bolted　for　the　door；　where　Tolkaze　stood。　It　was　Boris；　Tolkaze　saw；　the　Party　favorite；　head　of　the　local　kollektiv；　the　man　who　had　〃befriended〃　him；　making　him　the　special　pet　native　of　the　Russian　engineers。　Ibrahim　could　remember　every　time　this　godless　pig　had　patronized　him；　the　savage　foreigner　imported　to　amuse　his　Russian　masters。　Tolkaze　raised　his　pistol。
〃Ishaaa！〃　the　man　screamed　in　terror　and　shock。　Tolkaze　shot　him　in　the　mouth；　and　hoped　Boris　didn't　die　too　quickly　to　hear　the　contempt　in　his　voice：　〃Infidel。〃　He　was　pleased　that　Rasul　had　not　killed　this　one。　His　quiet　friend　could　have　all　the　rest。
The　other　engineers　screamed；　threw　cups；　chairs；　manuals。　There　was　nowhere　left　to　run；　no　way　around　the　swarthy；　towering　killer。　Some　held　up　their　hands　in　useless　supplication。　Some　even　prayed　aloud…but　not　to　Allah；　which　might　have　saved　them。　The　noise　diminished　as　Rasul　strode　up　to　the　bloody　corner。　He　smiled　as　he　shot　the　very　last；　knowing　that　this　sweating　infidel　pig　would　serve　him　in　paradise。　He　reloaded　his　rifle；　then　went　back　through　the　control　room。　He　prodded　each　body　with　a　bayonet；　and　again　shot　the　four　that　showed　some　small　sign　of　life。　His　face　bore　a　grim；　content　expression。　At　least　twenty…five　atheist　pigs　dead。　Twenty…five　foreign　invaders　who　would　no　longer　stand　between　his　people　and　their　God。　Truly　he　had　done　Allah's　work！
The　third　man；　Mohammet；　was　already　at　his　own　work　as　Rasul　took　his　station　at　the　top　of　the　staircase。　Working　in　the　back　of　the　room；　he　switched　the　room　systems…control　mode　from　puter…automatic　to　emergency…manual；　bypassing　all　of　the　automated　safety　systems。
A　methodical　man；　Ibrahim　had　planned　and　memorized　every　detail　of　his　task　over　a　period　of　months；　but　still　he　had　a　checklist　in　his　pocket。　He　unfolded　it　now　and　set　it　next　to　his　hand　on　the　master　supervisory　control　board。　Tolkaze　looked　around　at　the　status　displays　to　orient　himself；　then　paused。
From　his　back　pocket　he　took　his　most　treasured　personal　possession；　half　of　his　grandfather's　Koran；　and　opened　it　to　a　random　page。　It　was　a　passage　in　The　Chapter　of　the　Spoils。　His　grandfather　having　been　killed　during　the　futile　rebellions　against　Moscow；　his　father　shamed　by　helpless　subservience　to　the　infidel　state；　Tolkaze　had　been　seduced　by　Russian　schoolteachers　into　joining　their　godless　system。　Others　had　trained　him　as　an　oil…field　engineer　to　work　at　the　State's　most　valuable　facility　in　Azerbaijan。　Only　then　had　the　God　of　his　fathers　saved　him；　through　the　words　of　an　uncle；　an　〃unregistered〃　imam　who　had　remained　faithful　to　Allah　and　safeguarded　this　tattered　fragment　of　the　Koran　that　had　acpanied　one　of　Allah's　own　warriors。　Tolkaze　read　the　passage　under　his　hand：
And　when　the　misbelievers　plotted　to　keep　thee　prisoner；　or　kill　thee；　or　drive　thee　forth；　they　plotted　well；　but