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package of cigarettes on the desk and a lighter. "Smoke, Ben?"
"Thanks." Ben got a smoke and lit up. "Got any coffee, General?"
Berman laughed. "Coffee drinking man, hey? Me, too. Sure. I'll have a
pot sent in for us. How was lunch?"
"Very good. Surprisingly so."
"We all eat the same thing, as I told you. No point in not enjoying some
small creature comforts while we're here, right? Well, Ben, let's get to
it, shall we? Good. You won't be here for very long. I have to tell you
that. Three, four days at the most, I imagine, and then, if you haven't
agreed to some demands, you'll be sent to the capital for a public
trial. Now . . . you really don't want that, do you?"
"It doesn't hold much appeal for me, no."
"I'm sure it doesn't. Ah! Here's the coffee." A man placed a tray on the
desk with a pot of coffee, two cups, sugar and cream in containers. "How
do you take yours, Ben?"
"Black with a little sugar will do."
"Same here. Years in the field sort of makes cream
impossible, doesn't it?"
"Yes, it does. What demands?"
"Just a few. If you agree to them, your life will be spared. You have
President Osterman's word on that."
"Her word?"
Berman smiled. "Her word."
"I wouldn't trust that bitch if she swore it in the middle of a bible
factory."
"Just hear me out, Ben. What's the harm in that?"
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"The bottom line is, my life is spared and I get to spend the rest of my
life in prison, right?"
"That's about the size of it. But in as much comfort as possible. Not in
a cell. A ... well, sort of apartment, you might say."
"Probably on a military base, in solitary confinement for the rest of my
life."
"That's about the size of it."
Ben shook his head and smiled. "No deal. I'll take the rope."
"Ben-"
"Forget it. Hanging me will mean the civil war will continue forever. My
death will be a rallying cry. The war will never stop." Ben leaned
forward. "As long as there is one Rebel alive, the war will go on and on
and on. As long as the Tri-States philosophy of government is
remembered, passed down from generation to generation, the war will, in
some form, continue. Try me and hang me, Walt. I will make no deals in
exchange for my life. None."
The mercenary general stared at Ben for a moment. Then he smiled and
shook his head. "I told both Osterman and Millard you would never go for
the deal. They were sure you would."
"Now what?"
"I don't know. I'll contact Osterman's office and tell them it's no
deal. After that?" He shrugged and spread his hands. "It might get rough."
"At your hands?"
"No." The general's answer was quick and firm. "I have never gone in for
that sort of thing. But someone else is going to replace me. In a few
hours. There is always that to consider."
Ben entertained thoughts of telling Walt about his conversation with
General Maxwell, then thought better of it. He had a hunch the mercenary
knew all about it and was
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a part of it. ' 'You think roughing me up will change my mind?"
"Of course not. If anything, it will only serve to strengthen your
resolve. I personally don't think it will come to that. However .. . who
knows? These damned young and dedicated followers of Osterman are
capable of doing anything. I don't like them, and don't trust them."
"You've got several here at the hospital."
"Don't I know it. Bradford, the shithead that escorted you here a few
minutes ago, is one of the worst. Totally brainwashed. That creepy jerk
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is dangerous."
Ben laughed at the expression on the general's face. "I gather he's not
one of your favorite people."
"You can bet on that. Ben, my people and I are being pulled out of here
tonight. Then you'll be solely in the hands and at the mercy of
Osterman's goons. I won't be here to help you. Think about that. One
soldier to another, flip-flop a little, make them think you're going to
agree to the terms I offered. Buy a little time. How about it?"
"I'll give that some thought."
"Good. Do that. Save yourself some grief at least for a while."
"And after they get tired of waiting?"
"It probably will get rough. I won't lie to you."
Ben took a sip of the very good coffee and lit another cigarette. "Why
the concern on your part, Walt?"
"I don't like physical torture. Now, I'll hunt you and shoot you in open
warfare, do my best to beat you, kill you. But that's war. That's the
risk you run. I might use chemicals on a person. I have used chemicals
to get the truth. But not physical torture."
Ben lifted his coffee cup in a salute and smiled. Walt did the same. The
two middle-aged soldiers understood each other very well.
Ben tossed the cigarette pack back on the desk, and
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