Doomsday Warrior 12 - Death American Style by Ryder Stacy

Author:Ryder Stacy [Stacy, Ryder]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 0821722115
Publisher: Zebra Books

Thirteen

Premier Vassily’s immense battleship/aircraft carrier cruised down the Potomac to within several miles of the White House. The Russians had widened the Chesapeake and Potomac many years before, enabling them to ship supplies back and forth by water, the least expensive method of transport. Zhabnov was waiting on shore as the huge Dreadnaut’s fifty-foot shore vessel came riding in on a crest of foam and low waves. The moment the Premier was on dry land, a thousand-piece brass and drum band began playing. Nearly 10,000 troops stretched back row after row, every one stiff-collared and rigidly at attention, their Kalashnikovs held straight up in front of them; they clicked their heels and spun their weapons. For the ruler of all the world had arrived.

Zhabnov, dressed in the most garish purple-and-red silk suit that Vassily had ever seen, rushed forward, his large stomach rolling around like something that doesn’t quite know where it should set down. He put out his arms to embrace the wheelchair-bound Grandfather. But Vassily managed to dodge the contact, turning his face with a disgusted look as President Zhabnov realized the Premier didn’t want to be kissed on both cheeks.

“Uncle, Uncle—so wonderful to see you again,” Zhabnov huffed and puffed through squirrel-like cheeks.

“Good Lenin, man, you’ve put on even more weight since the last time I saw you,” the Premier exclaimed, looking askance at Zhabnov’s large girth. “When will it stop? You might just explode some day.”

“Funny, Uncle—that’s quite funny,” Zhabnov said, managing to let out a squeaking little laugh. “No, I’m sure I weigh the same. I’ve been watching the scales for your visit,” the President said, lying. “I even had this special suit made just for your arrival.” He looked down, wanting Vassily to say something complimentary about the ugly, jewel-encrusted suit, but the Premier just took a quick look and wrinkled his lips in disgust. Rahallah stood just to the side of the Grandfather, taking it all in with some amusement, though his expression remained absolutely stone face. He knew Zhabnov hated even to acknowledge his presence, but this time, apparently in an effort to be conciliatory, at least in front of the Premier, Zhabnov bowed his head slightly toward the black servant by way of greeting. Rahallah returned the motion.

“Oh, but come let me show you how I’ve set things up, decorated the whole place.” It always annoyed Vassily no end to be around his nephew. Decorated? The man lived in another world—of Wonderland, the way things looked. Vassily was a ruler, a leader on a grand and historic scale. He had wanted someone to take his place, to rule strongly and not let the planet be taken down into hell. Zhabnov had served as stooge in America against Killov’s dark plans. Then, the stupidity of his nephew had basically served Vassily well, enabling him to manipulate things totally. But now that Killov was gone, Zhabnov seemed too stupid to tolerate. Yet there was no one else he dared trust. Already he knew that countless conspiracies were being hatched to seize world power when he died.

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