Righteous Sniper полностью

“Tomorrow at most — if we don’t run into any trouble,” Cole said, adding, “Which we will.”

“You are a regular ray of sunshine.”

Cole smirked. “I ain’t gonna sugarcoat it. This won’t be easy.”

“Hillbilly, when you of all people say something isn’t going to be easy, it makes me nervous.”

“Well, don’t go sweating bullets about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d rather you were dodging bullets instead.”

“If this is going to take us two days, it means we’ll have to stay overnight somewhere. I hope there’s a decent hotel along the way.”

“I don’t know about that. Hell, we’ll be lucky if we can find a foxhole.”

“It’s damn cold, so the last place I want to sleep is a foxhole.” Vaccaro glanced over at the German and lowered his voice. “If we have to camp out, what are we going to do about him?”

“I dunno,” Cole admitted. “Hog-tie him if we have to.”

“He won’t like that.”

“I don’t really give a damn what he likes or doesn’t like.”

Vaccaro had raised a good point that nobody had thought through. Handling prisoners, especially important ones, was not usually in Cole’s line of work. This was all-new territory.

Maybe Brock was right, Cole thought. They should have taken him up on his offer to take the Kraut off their hands. Nobody could have put up much of a stink if they claimed that the Kraut had run off. However, Cole had instinctively disliked Brock. The man couldn’t be trusted. There was no way he would have handed the prisoner off to him.

Orders were orders, and Cole intended to follow them.

Bauer had overheard their conversation. “Excuse me,” he said. “If I may?”

Up until now he had been silent, and Cole had forgotten that the man spoke English. When he did speak, it was with the careful annunciation of the educated class. It didn’t make Cole like him any better — just the opposite.

“What the hell do you want?” Cole barked at him.

“There is no need to tie me up at night,” he said. “I give you my word not to attempt an escape.”

“The word of a murdering Nazi ain’t worth much in my book.”

“I am merely trying to save you some trouble and save me some discomfort. For that matter, I would appreciate it if you cut my hands free. It would make walking easier.”

“I don’t think so, Herr Barnstormer.”

“Obersturmbannführer,” Bauer said, correcting him.

“Yeah, like I said, Barnstormer.”

Bauer gave him a blank look but didn’t correct him this time.

Now on foot, they had no choice but to keep moving. Even that rattletrap jeep would have been better than slogging through the snow, mud, and slush up this road. There were a few tire tracks and tank treads, along with boot prints, to show that the road had been used recently — fresh enough that the snow hadn’t covered the tracks.

“What do you think, Cole?” Vaccaro asked. “Our guys or their guys?”

Cole and Bauer replied at the same time, “Both.”

Cole glanced over at Bauer, who arched an eyebrow at him. That damn Kraut is probably hoping that some of his fellow Germans will come along and rescue him. Cole had to admit that the odds were pretty good of that happening. The whole damn countryside had to be crawling with Krauts.

“Some of those are Studebaker treads,” Cole explained for Vaccaro’s benefit. “Some of the boots have hobnails, which means they’re German.” He might have added that the hobnailed boots seemed old-fashioned, but they actually provided better traction in the snow and mud. The rubber-soled US boots performed better on paved roads — and were that much quieter.

They kept going, with Cole keeping a wary eye on the surroundings trees. The trunks loomed dark and menacing on both sides of the road as the pitch grew steeper and they began to climb through the hilly country. The men were quiet except for the sound of their labored breathing. Halfway up, they paused for breath. Bauer was a little older and heavier than the Brit and the two Americans and seemed to be having the most trouble climbing the hill.

Again, it was Bauer who broke the silence. He nodded toward Vaccaro, who had stepped to the side of the road to relieve himself. “That is another reason why you may wish to free my hands.”

Cole caught on to what he was saying and glared at him. “You gotta be kidding me. I sure as hell ain’t gonna hold your schnitzel while you take a leak.”

Bauer shrugged and offered what appeared to be an apologetic smile. “That makes two of us. There are some things you would prefer that I do on my own.”

Cole thought about it. As much as he didn’t want to cut the German’s bonds, he wanted to help him take a leak even less. “All right, hold out your hands.”

Cole drew his big bowie knife, the razor-sharp edge flashing even in the dull winter light. Bauer’s eyes widened at the sight of it.

“I have never seen such a knife,” he said.