Battleground by Keith Douglass Read Free Book Online Page A

weapons carrier drove in, and Colonel Maleceia stepped out. Two of his officers had found the ambassador, and brought him to the front of the building.
    “Mr. Ambassador. This embassy is closed and all your rights are nullified. This is no longer United States soil. You all are prisoners of war, and will be treated as such. Anyresistance by you, or any of your people, will bring immediate execution. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
    Ambassador Jerome nodded. Tears ran down his cheeks. “I understand, Colonel. None of my people will resist in any way. Already four of the staff have been killed along with ten of the Marines. You have no right.…”
    The ambassador stopped as Colonel Maleceia snapped up his head. “Careful, Mr. Ambassador. What room is large enough to hold all of your people?”
    “The formal dining room.”
    “Not good. We’ll put everyone in that large room in the basement. I don’t want you to be too comfortable. We’ll see what your government will do to ransom you. How many people do you have left alive, Mr. Ambassador?”
    “Forty-two alive and fourteen dead. Fourteen that your men killed when it wasn’t necessary.”
    “Don’t criticize me, Jerome.”
    “Do you know what you’ve done? The whole weight and power of the United States will bear down on you. You can’t possibly live for more than a week. You are a monster and a dead man. You have violated every diplomatic code of conduct of behavior ever invented.”
    Colonel Maleceia growled, and drew his weapon from the holster on his right side. He lifted the automatic, stepped forward, and shot the ambassador in his right eye. Ambassador Harrington G. Jerome jolted backward and died in a sprawl on the front steps of the embassy.
    “Clean up this mess,” Colonel Maleceia barked. “The rest of you round up everyone inside and take them to the big room in the basement, the one with the steel doors and no windows. We don’t want anyone to escape.”
    Ten minutes later in the locked basement room, one of the Marines still alive used strips of cloth to wrap up Frank Underhill’s shot-up arm. He had lost a lot of blood, but he knew that he would live. There was so much to do. He was in charge now. He shivered when he remembered how matter-of-factly that madman had executed Ambassador Jerome. Terrible.
    He made sure the six others who had been wounded weretended. All were non-life-threatening but one. Madelyn, a secretary and code clerk, had taken a ricocheted bullet in her chest. Evidently it had missed the vital organs. But she was pale and lying down.
    The basement room was smaller than Frank remembered. With forty-two people in it—no, only forty-one alive now—there would barely be room for everyone to lie down on the floor. He had no hope for food, water or toilet facilities. There simply were none.
    An hour later, Colonel Maleceia had figured out the radio in the communications room. He didn’t bother with the code-books that he found partially destroyed. He would broadcast in the clear. It would bounce off the satellite overhead and be picked up in Washington, D.C., as clearly as if he’d phoned from down the block. He hadn’t spent all of his time at the U.S. military training center working on tactics. His radio and electronics capability was considerable.
    First, he broadcast a warning that an important message would be coming. He gave his name and new position as ruler of Kenya.
    A frantic message came through in the clear to the embassy asking if all was well. They knew it was not. Maleceia ignored it.
    His message was brief.
    “To the United States of America. This is a notification and a warning to the people of America. First, I now hold one hundred and sixty of your sailors from the
Roy Turner
and forty-one members of your diplomatic staff at the former U.S. Embassy in Nairobi. These hostages will be humanely treated pending your acceptance of my conditions.
    “The United States of America will pay to the nation of