CHAPTER 50
A few days later, Billy entered Global Bank in Warsaw, checked his messages, transferred some gold, and picked up more body suits. He got an update of the steel-hull warship his great-uncle George was building in London. The latest message from Prince gave him directions to a secluded valley an hour from Kiev.
The Mongols apparently did not appreciate how useful a communications network would be to the Baron. It’s how he communicated with American Jack, the bounty hunters who killed the Khan’s descendents, and the Americans.
Billy flew them over a thousand kilometers a day to out-run even the Khan’s famous postal service. The strongest carried the heaviest items like cooking pots and stoves. None of them ever felt safe in the same place for more than five hours. Even putting up sentries could bring disastrous attention. Only Billy’s intimate knowledge of population centers let them travel undetected.
After over a week of constant flight, someone dropped in front of them and gave the coded signal. Billy flew forward until he saw Prince’s relieved face. Prince led them to his valley, where several hundred men looked up as thirty thousand strangers landed among them.
“How did you know it was us?” Billy asked Prince.
“Mongols do not fly in a defensive stacked-diamond formation several thousand kilometers from the nearest enemy. Much less so damn high.”
Billy laughed at his foolishness. He stacked his battalions five deep, five stacks total, in the shape of a diamond, with another stack flying point.
“We’re hiding the Scandinavian and Russian marathon divisions an hour away,” Princess told him. A big bearded guy marched forward. “Red, this is Ivan the Terrible.”
“You don’t look so bad,” Billy joked.
“Ivan,” Prince said, “it is my pleasure to introduce you to the Red Baron.”
They shook hands and the big guy nearly broke his bones with his tight grip.
“You’re tiny,” the guy concluded, studying Billy for flaws.
“That’s not what the ladies say. I hope you made good use of the money, armor, and wands we left you the last several years.”
The ingrate grunted. “No offense, but could you flash your wands for us? I, of course, believe you are who Prince says you are, but it’d reassure my guys.”
“Then record it to recruit more quads. Otherwise, no one will believe the Red Baron is in Russia.”
Billy noticed where a stream passed by the nearest building, so he popped over it at optimum height and did his primal scream -- which, while it did wonders in combat, felt silly otherwise. He burst flame from all four wands, did a pretty dance he developed with Diva, then shot four blasts.
Literally tons of dirt rocked his stunned audience. His own men knew enough to back up, and smile in anticipation. The dust cloud smacked the Russians like a sandstorm which -- being Russians -- was probably a first.
Billy deafened those without ear protectors. He landed in the crater and waited for them to surround the rim, looking down at him. Every time they went for water, they’d have to walk around his crater.
Even Ivan looked impressed. “I believe you now.”
The Russians cheered -- they had the Red Baron! And thirty thousand other guys.
Ivan wanted to impress upon the Baron how dire the situation was. “Those bastards took all the food we had stored up for the winter to feed this new armada. Those Mongols are feeding over a million parasites from the Stans, which means a few million Russians may starve by spring. Please help us.”
“So that’s why you’re finally willing to spill Mongol blood. How many quads do you have?”
“I’ve spread a rumor that I’m giving every Russian quad all the grain they can carry from warehouses in Kiev, so I expect a few hundred thousand Russian quads to show up. I’ll wait until just before midnight before telling them of the attack.” Ivan paused dramatically. “Are you really gonna attack a million quads?”
“That’s why we’re here. But we’re really tired, hungry, and sleepy.”
Ivan wasted no time. His men showed the newcomers where they could sleep while others prepared a giant feast. Soon, over roasted pig, Prince brought the commanders up to date.
"General Moqali has a million quads and a million two-wanders, organized into two thousand battalions, each squad living in two hundred thousand huts. Moqali sacked Kiev in 1240, so he doesn’t dare trust Russian women. Instead he uses refugees from the Stans for cooks, whores, and laundry maids.”
“I’ve heard that the military vault has more coin than the Mongol Central Bank in Peking,” Ivan added knowingly.
“The vault is ours,” Billy said sternly. “But you can have everything else except the Bank of Mongolia. If every quad averages one backup set, then you’ll find several million wands on the battlefield tomorrow, plus whatever money the corpses have on them.”
“Why do you get Bank of Mongolia?”
“Because a few thousand quads from Global Bank will arrive soon to claim every Mongolia branch for their own. Once you set up your government, make sure everything owned by the Bank of Mongolia is deeded to Global Bank. Global Bank will loan you whatever you need, but you must protect their branches. Were you able to get the bombs?”
Prince laughed. “An independent company helpfully transported a few million to Ivan’s warehouses.”
“So what’s the plan?” Billy asked Prince. Some of the commanders looked surprised. Even Prince seemed shocked.
“They don’t have airborne sentries or patrols because the fighting is so far away, and who the hell attacks a million quads? So I say we fall straight down tonight from maximum altitude, each carrying fire and shrapnel bombs. At five hundred meters, we each drop a firebomb on a hut. A three hundred meters we throw shrapnel bombs where they gather the most, then blast everything that moves. Have the Russians surround their perimeter to prevent survivors from escaping. Once resistance fades, we wipe out the million supporters from the Stans camped around them.”
“Fifty thousand marathoners, holding four bombs each, targeting two hundred thousand huts. It sounds like providence,” Billy said. “Ivan, have your quads surround the camp to prevent any from escaping, but tell them not to enter the camp until an hour after sunrise to give their wounded time to die. Even then, they should stab every body to avoid getting shot in the back.”
The big guy grunted his approval. “What should I do if we win?”
“Form a credible temporary government to set up local and national elections. That means you must include your rivals.”
“Why, Mr. Baron?”
“Because a credible government will suck up Mongol resources that otherwise would be used against me.”
Billy thought he detected a smile under all those whiskers. “I now see why so many follow you.”
“Ivan, in return for saving a million Russians, you’ll owe me a debt of gratitude that you cannot possibly repay, but which you will try to repay whenever possible. Is this understood?”
Ivan sat back in his wooden chair and almost smiled. “Spoken like a Russian. I accept your terms.”
While Russians recorded them, the Red Baron and Ivan the Terrible issued a joint video urging Russians to kill everyone pro-Mongolian and proclaiming the independent nation of Russia.
“Ivan, Russia needs an air force. You will have the quads, armor, and the wands. All you lack is a uniform. As it happens, we have thirty thousand Mongol uniforms that we won’t be wearing anymore, and you’ll find several million more on the battlefield. Have your women figure out the cheapest way to make them look Russian and you’ll have a professional looking air force.”