The Forlorn Hope by David Drake Read Free Book Online

“However,” the Supply Officer continued, “I will very cheerfully withdraw two bottles of gin from my own ration as a present for you and Private Quade when you’ve finished with the roof.”
    â€œMary, you scared me, sir!” Hodicky gasped through his smile. “We’ll get right on it.” He turned to dart back into the store room. But as the little man did so, he paused and turned again. “Sir,” he said, “I ought to just keep my mouth shut, I know, but.… Look, it’s just as much against regs to issue your own booze to enlisted men as it is to let a couple bottles disappear. What’s the deal?”
    Waldstejn smiled, more at himself than at the question. “Look, Hodicky,” he said, “if you get caught and my ass comes up on charges as a result—fine. I trusted somebody I shouldn’t have and I got burned for it like I deserved. I never swore to anybody I’d make sure enlisted men got pissed on beer and officers on spirits. But my accounts are going to be straight because I say they will, not for some damned regulation. Now, go fix the roof while I take a look at what’s happened inside.” He walked toward the counter’s gate.
    â€œIt’s like you said, Pavel,” Private Quade called from above. His head was silhouetted against one of the larger rips in the lobby ceiling.
    â€œCome on down and help me carry,” Hodicky shouted back. “We’re in a hurry.”
    Hodicky waved the Lieutenant through into the stores area and followed him. In a low voice—though there was no one nearer than Quade, whose rapid footsteps were slanting toward the ladder at the back of the building—the Private said, “Ah, sir, I noticed lots more rat droppings than we’d thought when I was checking things out a moment ago. The shipment of warfarin hasn’t come in—” it had, but Hodicky had checked the invoice himself—“and you know how they give Q the creeps. While you’re in the locker, why don’t you withdraw some digitalis from medical stores. I’ll lace some flour with that and put it out for Q, you know. I don’t like it when he gets upset.”
    The holes in the roof now lighted the warehouse more than the glow strips did. Waldstejn frowned at his subordinate in puzzlement. If Hodicky knew that digitalis was poisonous, then he did not have some wild-hare idea of using it to get high on. The officer sighed. “All right,” he said, “but be careful. You two are the only staff I’ll get from the Major, and I don’t need you keeling over with heart attacks.”
    â€œThank you, sir,” the Private said. He began to walk briskly down the aisles toward the back door of the building.
    â€œIf this bombing means what I’m afraid it does,” Waldstejn called after him, “I guess we’re going to have worse problems than rats in a little bit.”
    Maybe you will, Pavel Hodicky thought as he jogged between racks of boots and uniforms. For the Privates, though, a couple of rats named Breisach and Ondru were the number one problem. If Hodicky did not take care of it fast with spiked gin, Q was going to do it his own way. At the moment, Hodicky was still uncertain which result frightened him more.

CHAPTER THREE
    The pounding on the door was audible over the gnat-swarm keen of the computer terminal. Private Quade wore a taut expression as he returned to Waldstejn from the front lobby. “I shouted through the door like you say,” the Private explained. “He won’t go away. You let me—” Quade drew a trembling breath—“and I’ll get him to leave.”
    â€œNo, wait here,” the Lieutenant said. His desk beside the terminal was littered with computer tape and hand-written notes. It was a rush job and he was a long way from finishing it. Quade’s condition, however, indicated that Waldstejn had better