Riordan turned to his executive officer. “René?” The small man glanced around at the men working on machinery, cleaning weapons, laying about smoking and gabbing. He fixed his eyes on Riordan and harshly whispered, “The Russians are going to arrest you!” “Say what? Why?” He put his hand on his holstered 9mm. “Or for that bloody matter, how?” “They know about the mechanized scout incident.” Riordan scowled, glanced around, looked back at his comrade. “And how the hell did they tumble to that?” “Someone sent them a message. I don’t know who. The message said you shot a Russian officer in the head, at close quarters, from behind.” Riordan felt a chill slide down his spine and freeze his scrotum. He opened his mouth twice before he could actually say anything. “God’s cod piece, René, you didn’t even know that, only I did!” “How could this be known by anyone?” René asked. “Someone had to be there; someone I obviously didn’t see. Jesus wept, we were out in the wilderness!”
