Книга Struggle. Taste of power - Владимир Андерсон

don't have to pretend to everyone else that it doesn't exist at all.

Misha got up and walked around the room. There was a reason they had come here. And not for nothing, he thought about the fact that this man had complained to him so much about his life… How easy it was sometimes to see the confessions covered up, and everything was so close. If only he'd paid attention sooner…..

Having come to his senses a little, Grisha continued:

— And when Ranierov was taken, I thought that nobody would find me now. And mine would be even safer… But it didn't get any easier… It didn't get any easier at all… Maybe it would if they had executed that freak for nothing. Maybe then it would have felt better.

Bolotnikov and Misha stared at him at once:

— How did you know Ranierov was taken for treason?

Grisha smiled wickedly, very wickedly. This crying and at the same time damnably caustic and evil face reflected some kind of demonism:

— You stupid lousy rebels… Will you realize that not all people want to be like you? Will you realize that you don't need your freedom for nothing? And that there are more people like me than I can count? Will you finally realize it, punishment major Bolotnikov?

The last words came out of his mouth as if he were repeating them after someone, and those words were the only ones that went bouncing around the room as he bit off something on his collar and immediately arched up, falling to the floor.

Mercenary

The Maquis set up their dugouts so they couldn't be seen. Not even close. They looked like cliffs, hills, a pile of fallen trees or a pile of garbage. Anything but a dugout… The Heavies were much better at this art. Their "cliffs," "hills," and "piles of fallen trees" looked as if they had been created first, and then all the reality around them. And the same with all those who covered them — snipers, machine-gun nests, traps. Everything was arranged in such a way that nothing gave itself away as something unnatural. In fact, that word "natural" was a trademark of the Kiwi.

The central command of the Hiwi was located in Gorlovka, while the field command was located on the outskirts of Bakhmut, a town located at the junction of three roads. It was more convenient to communicate with reserves from different units and to conduct sorties against the Maquis.

— Since the moment of entry of "Detachment 14" in Severodonetsk, our informant stopped contacting — began Cobra.

He gathered the local field commanders for a meeting in one of the command centers. This structure, a few meters underground, left over from the Great War and once completely burned down, was now a good example of using used resources: thick concrete walls, complete isolation from the outside world, and ample room for collective decision-making.

— Well, it's your informant who stopped communicating… — Berkut replied. — But our informant is perfectly fine.

Berkut once distrusted Cobra, and even considered him his enemy for some time, periodically building a kind of setup on the fly. But he coped with all of them, and in return he gave him problems, and in time their relationship settled down. Of course, they did not support each other, but there was no more confrontation. Cobra's dislike of him was still quite considerable, though — he still considered Berkut shortsighted and easy to change his shoes on the fly. It wasn't from a great mind.

So, why don't you share what's going on in there? — Cobra asked calmly.

— Nothing particularly new. Well, except that the Maquis kinda caught someone knocking plagues…I take it that's your good man….

As always these things are figured out in a meeting. Someone will wait a day or two, or even a week, just to say something in front of everyone. You can't warn anyone in advance about any problems that have come to your attention. At least start fixing the problem. No. They'll wait until the last minute just to make someone look bad in public.

— Why didn't you say so before? — Cobra asked, keeping his voice completely calm.

— Yeah we just got that information… But it's nice to have someone to get it from now…..

— Did your informant tell you anything about the Maquis' latest plans?

— Of course they want revenge for the last incident in the Deez sector. It's no wonder.

Sometimes it seemed to Kobra that Berkut had not gone to any peace, but was only pretending. To make an obvious victory over the Maquis look like something that only inflamed them could not have been a spontaneous retreat. Berkut obviously wasn't able to exist on parity with someone unless that someone blindly supported him at least a little bit. And Cobra never supported him at all by any stretch. In fact, the reason for this lay in the key difference in their modus operandi. Cobra calculated and applied his efforts based on the pros and cons he had calibrated, while constantly learning new methods of both Maquis and Chum. Berkut pivoted on his ambition and personal ties to the head of the Hiwi, who had once been a close friend of his. Apparently, this difference in approach did not suit both of them.

— Maybe we should have left it as it was and let a few Boers of the imperial army get ambushed? — Cobra said.

— I'm exaggerating… Of course, all these actions are necessary… But that's not what I mean… We're losing the initiative. — that was Berkut's favorite way of changing his mind on the fly, taking conversations sideways and then turning the tables. — Don't you know how unacceptable it is to lose the initiative at a time like this? At a time when the SCK and the Inquisition are sharpening their teeth at each other….

— That's what we'll talk about. — Raven intervened. He was not a brigadier general,