The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

friend, his truest comrade, his lover. Dead. It should not have hit him as hard
as it did, Günther knew. What else might he have expected? They'd had to kill
her, of course. She was both a link with the past, and a potentially dangerous
link with Germany's socialist future. In killing her, they'd further secured the
political stability of the new Germany, Das Vierte Reich.
'Petra,' he whispered to himself. She was more than a political figure, more
than a revolutionary. He remembered every contour of her face, every curve of
her youthful body. He remembered waiting for their children to be born, and the
smile with which she'd greeted him after delivering Erika and Ursel. They, too,
were gone, as totally removed from him as though they'd also died.
It was not a time to be alone. Bock dressed and walked across the street. Qati,
he was glad to see, was still awake, though he looked ghastly.
'What is wrong, my friend?' the Commander asked.
'Petra is dead.'
Qati showed genuine pain on his face. 'What happened?'
'The report is that she was found dead in her cell hanged.' His Petra, Bock
thought in delayed shock, found strangled by her graceful neck. The image was
too painful for contemplation. He'd seen that kind of death. He and Petra had
executed a class enemy that way and watched his face turn pale, then darken, and
. . . The image was unbearable. He could not allow himself to see Petra that
way.
Qati bowed his head in sorrow. 'May Allah have mercy on our beloved comrade.'
Bock managed not to frown. Neither he nor Petra had ever believed in God, but
Qati had meant well by his prayer, even though it was nothing more than a waste
of breath. At the very least, it was an expression of sympathy and good will –
and friendship. Bock needed that right now, and so he ignored the irrelevancy
and took a deep breath.
'It is a bad day for our cause, Ismael.'
'Worse than you think, this cursed treaty – '
'I know,' Bock said. 'I know.'
'What do you think?' One thing Qati could depend on was Bock's honesty. Günther
was objective about everything.
The German took a cigarette from the Commander's desk and lit it from the table
lighter. He didn't sit, but rather paced the room. He had to move about to prove
to himself that he was still alive, as he commanded his mind to consider the
question objectively.
'One must see this as merely one part of a larger plan. When the Russians
betrayed World Socialism, they set in motion a series of events aimed at
solidifying control over most of the world on the part of the capitalist
classes. I used to think that the Soviets merely advanced this as a matter of
clever strategy, to get economic assistance for themselves – you must understand
that the Russians are a backward people, Ismael. They couldn't even make
Communism work. Of course, Communism was invented by a German,' he added with an
ironic grimace (that Marx had been a Jew was something he diplomatically left
out). Bock paused for a moment, then went on with a coldly analytical voice. He
was grateful for the chance to close the door briefly on his emotions and speak
like the revolutionary of old.