“And what if Maggie’s already told Beria about all of us?” Danny shot back. “What if Katie’s already been made? Killing these guys isn’t going make that better, Frank.”
Ekaterina quickly moved herself between the two men, facing Frank. “Wait. You want to kill all these men? There are twenty of them!”
Frank put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Katie, honey, I’m sorry, but Beria really can’t know you’re around. Do you know what he’d do to get you back?”
“I don’t care!” Ekaterina said, shoving Frank’s hand off her hard enough to stagger him backward. “You’re so worried about ‘Katie, honey,’ so why am I here then? I will not have these men die just because they may tell Beria something about me he likely already knows!”
Danny stepped forward again and looked Frank squarely in the eye, even though the latter had a couple inches on him. “Frank, get the Russian Variants secured. Decision’s been made. Time to move out.”
Frank stared hard at Danny for what seemed like an eternity, but Danny stood his ground, relying on their shared history and, yes, the privileges of rank. Finally, Frank stalked off toward the truck, and everyone else relaxed.
“What was that about?” Sorensen asked.
“Stress, probably. Let’s go,” Danny replied, hoping it was true.
Five minutes later, the unconscious Variants were piled into the car — two pretzeled in the trunk, one propped up in the back seat — and the keys to the Red Army truck were flung deep into the woods. Frank took the wheel and, with everyone else piled in tight, sped off into the night, headlights still doused.
Two minutes later, Danny saw a flash of light in the rearview, accompanied by a loud boom a second later.
He quickly turned to Frank, who just stared straight ahead on the unlit road. “What the hell did you do?”
There was an excruciating moment of silence before Frank replied. “I did what I had to.”
From the back seat, Ekaterina screamed and lunged forward, her hands going for Frank’s throat. Thinking quickly, Danny flipped on the null-generator before she could snap Frank’s neck and send the car careening off the road.
“You killed them! Those men! Murderer!” she shouted as Sorensen held her back — successfully, now that her strength was gone.
Frank said nothing. He kept driving.
When Ekaterina’s shrieks had died down to mere sobbing, Danny turned to Frank. “Why?”
“Because you were wrong, Dan. Every single expert jammed in my head agreed — they couldn’t live. We need the extra time, and we need to keep our covers secure. Simple as that.”
“Because of your voices? I outrank those voices!” Danny shouted. “You killed twenty men!”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Frank snapped. “You think I like doing this shit? But if we’re gonna get Maggie back and win this thing, we have to do it right.”
Danny turned toward the darkness outside again and mulled it over for a few minutes. Finally, he made a decision.
“Major Lodge, for violating a direct order from a superior, you’re hereby relieved and confined to quarters until further notice,” he said calmly. “At the earliest possible date, you will be transferred back to the United States to face disciplinary charges. Now get us the hell home and don’t say another goddamn word.”
Frank said nothing. He just kept driving.
CLASSIFICATION: TOP SECRET-MAJIK
DATE: 14 Apr 53
FROM: DCI Dulles
TO: CMDR Wallace USN
CC: GEN Vandenberg USAF, DR Bronk MJ-12
RE: Operation Report of 13 Apr
National Command Authority commends you and your team on your successful operation. Extraction of Soviet Variants not advised at this time. Border controls around USSR have been upgraded as of 13 Apr. Shelter captives in place.
Extracting MAJ Lodge for disciplinary action is likewise not advised at this time. Maintain confinement at safe house until Lodge is required in an operational capacity. Further disobedience should be remedied in the field, up to and including elimination, at your command discretion.
Request for Operation SATCHMO clearance granted. Proceed with all due caution.
Per your information request, Agents Hooks and Yamato failed to make check-in and, at the moment, are unaccounted for in Korean theater. Search continues. You and your team are to remain in place and continue operations.
/s/ Dulles
12
Five days can seem like an awful long time when you’re a prisoner of war. Especially in Korea. Especially during a cold and wet spring. Especially when they took your shoes and coats and rain gear.
Calvin Hooks marched up the muddy track, shivering and hugging himself to conserve what little warmth was left in his bones. His body ached all over — from the ten miles of daily marching, from the cold and the damp, from the old age that was catching up to him rapidly now that he was expending life energy just to stave off total exhaustion.
Along with Kim, Padilla, and Yamato, Cal was one of fifty or so prisoners of war rounded up after the North Korean and Chinese offensive that horrible night up on the hill. They were shoved around, punched, kicked — standard fare, he figured, Geneva Conventions be damned — then stripped of everything valuable. Coats and boots and ponchos were handed out by the Chinese to their North Korean allies, who would occasionally fight over who got what. So much for the glories of socialism, Cal thought. Of course, he kept that thought to himself. Keep walking.
Kim and the South Koreans were quickly separated from the Americans and other U.N. forces; Kim looked back plaintively as they marched him away, and Cal figured it wasn’t going to go well for the poor fellow. In his briefing papers, Cal had read that captured South Koreans weren’t considered prisoners of war, but rather “liberated soldiers” rescued from oppression, or some damn fool crap like that. So the South Koreans would be put to work in mines, or construction, or other hard labor jobs, and forced to undergo all kinds of Communist indoctrination.
The Americans, of course, were bargaining chips. But since nobody really had a clear picture of just how many were captured, they could afford to lose a few along the way.
So there were twenty-two U.S. and U.N. troops that started marching three days ago. They were already down to eighteen. The four that died — dysentery, exposure, whatever got ’em — were left on the side of the road. Everyone else was told to keep walking. Keep walking.
To Cal’s surprise, he and Padilla were treated a little bit better than the rest — fewer beatings, a little extra food here and there. Nobody really told them why, but then, nobody really spoke English either. A couple times, some Chinese fellow tried to talk to Cal in Chinese, and apparently in French, but Cal couldn’t get his meaning. All he got was a nod and a small smile from the guy, followed by a shove in the back from another, less pleasant one. Keep walking.
Yamato, though, was treated far worse. The Japanese hadn’t been kind to the Koreans or Chinese during World War II, and it seemed like the North Koreans and Chinese were more than willing to take it out on Yamato, despite the American uniform. Either that, or they saw what Yamato could do with the lightning and didn’t want a repeat. Either way, they beat the poor kid so badly right off the bat that he was completely out of it, totally incoherent, and Padilla had to help him walk.