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Not a gabby type, that Rozan. If not gabby, the Precol blonde was a woman of her word. Trigger had just started lunch when the office mail-tube receiver tinkled brightly at her. She reached in, took out a flat plastic carrier, snapped it open. The paper that unfolded itself in her hand was her retransfer application.
"That's your privilege," said Rozan. She half turned, swung a telewriter forward and snapped it into her ComWeb. She glanced out at Trigger's desk. "Your writer's connected, I see. We'll want thumbprint and signature." She slid a form into her telewriter, shifted it twice as Trigger deposited thumbprint and signature and drew it out. "The application will be processed promptly, Argee. Good day."
To the north of Novgorod the capture of Russian positions had yielded 2,000 prisoners and two machine guns to the Germans on the 20th. Farther south on the Narew a strong work of the fortress Rozan defending an important crossing was stormed by the Germans, and desperate fighting was going on at Pultusk and near Georgievsk.
She smiled a small, cold smile. "Rozan," she said. "You're Trigger Argee. I know about you. What's the trouble?" Trigger looked at her, wondering. "No trouble," she said. "Personnel just routed me through to you." "They've been instructed to do so," said Rozan. "Go ahead." "I'm on detached duty at the moment." "I know." "I'd like to apply for a transfer back to my previous job. The Manon System."
She stared at the ComWeb, feeling a little shaken. All she'd done was to say she wanted to apply for a transfer! Undersecretary Rozan was one of Precol's Big Four. For a moment, Trigger had an uncanny notion. Some strange madness was spreading insidiously through the Hub. She shook the thought off. A businesslike blonde showed up in the screen. She might be about thirty-five.
The brave and desperate resistance of the Russians on both sides of the road between Ostrov and Rozan was without success. Twenty-two Russian officers and 4,840 soldiers were taken prisoners. The Germans also captured seventeen machine guns. The fall of Warsaw marked the culmination of the greatest sustained offensive movement of the war.
"All this means nothing," she said. "How can the secret of Abdul Rozan help me to live! And you you will be dead before I die! yes! One little hour after he finds out that I go!" "Listen again," hissed Chunda Lal intensely. "Promise me, and I will open for you a gate of life. For you, Miska, I will do it, and we shall be free. He will never find out. He shall not be living to find out!"
The bravery of the Russians, especially in their counterattacks on both sides of the road from Rozan to Ostrow on the 4th of August, won the admiration of the Germans. The correspondent of the London "Times" reports that on August 4, 1915, there was probably not over one Russian corps on the west side of the Vistula.
If it was a choice between inconveniencing Holati Tate and losing that meathead Brule Trigger switched on the ComWeb. The head of the personnel department of Precol's Maccadon office said, "You don't want me, Argee. That's not my jurisdiction. I'll connect you with Undersecretary Rozan." Trigger blinked. "Under " she began. But he'd already cut off.
Precol was not transferring her back to Manon. That was final. Then she realized that there was a second sheet attached to the application form. On it in handwriting were a few more words: "In accordance with the instructions of Commissioner Tate." And a signature, "Rozan." And three final words: "Destroy this note." Trigger crumpled up the application in one hand.
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