Russian Amerika: Chapter Fifty Six

    The helicopter circled once while the ground crew switched on lights at each corner of the square landing pad. The machine dropped quickly through the dark sky to hunch in the light like a live thing wary of circumstances. The rotors continued revolving as soldiers hustled Kronov out of his cell and lifted him into the aircraft.

    Moments later they flew through an impossibly dark night. Kronov glanced down at his manacled hands and became aware that someone sat beside him. He looked up into gray eyes over an aquiline nose and perfectly trimmed moustache.

    "Sorry I can't take those off for you, Colonel. But we've decided you're a very dangerous man." The man's voice held familiarity.

    "This is outrageous," Kronov said. "I demand-"

    "Allow me to introduce myself. Major James Douglas, United States Army Reserve. Actually I'm a journalist and just do this soldier-boy bit one weekend a month, until Mario decided he needed my talents."

    "'Mario?'" Kronov said.

    "President Cuomo. Think of him as an elected Czar."

    "What do you intend to do with me?"

    "Well, friend, I'm going to put you on the CBS radio network and ask how you came to be in the Dena' Republik wrapped in chains when just a few days ago the Czar himself decorated you in St. Petersburg."

    "This is Russian Amerika! There is no Dena' Republik. I refuse to allow such a thing. I would rather die."

    "That is the question, isn't it?" Douglas said. "Would you rather stay here in the Dena' Republik - and it is a Republic 'cause Mario told me so - or come down to the U.S. with me and cooperate enough to get furloughed back to the Czar?"

    "This is possible?" Kronov said quickly in a low voice. "To be sent back to Russia, alive?"

    "Of course." Douglas stroked his moustache. "We're not barbarians, y'know."

    "If I went back to Russia alive, the Czar would have me shot."

    "Your decision, of course. There are other alternatives available, and you can live quite handsomely in some of them."

    Kronov thought furiously. He hadn't expected anything like this. Even if he escaped being used for propaganda, he couldn't go back to Russia. The Czar would have him executed for losing his elite command. The fact they shared a great-grandfather wouldn't make the slightest difference.

    "Has the United States recognized this Dena' Republik diplomatically?"

    "This morning," Douglas said crisply. "There's been an incredible amount of military posturing on all borders, here and in Europe."

    "Who else has joined you in this madness?" Kronov felt faint.

    "Austria-Hungary, the Republic of California, and the First People's Nation so far. British Canada, New Spain, and our Confederate cousins seem to be siding with your Czar, but then they're like that."

    "This means war."

    "That, colonel, remains to be seen."

    "The Czar has no choice. If he doesn't put an immediate stop to this Dena' nonsense other regions will attempt to break away from the Russian empire. All would be chaos."

    Major Douglas gave him another wry smile. "Welcome to the twentieth century, colonel. Colonialism is dead."

    "Tell that to Britain, Spain, and France!" Kronov spat.

    "Besides," Douglas' demeanor became icy, "where would the Czar find allies if a war started tomorrow? He's already spent what little good will he inherited from his father."

    "What is it you plan to do with me?" Kronov asked in a small voice.

    "Propaganda, partner. Propaganda of the likes you've never seen before - we want you to tell the truth as you see it."

    "About what?"

    "Imperial Russia. Russian Amerika. How St. Petersburg views her North American holdings and what she plans for their future."

    "I don't have all those answers. I'm a soldier, not a diplomat."

    "That's what we're counting on."