“So I want you — each one of you — to think carefully about what you do next. There’s a chance that this is overblown, that maybe they’re just gonna pull us out of the field and keep studying us or whatever, and that things won’t change too much. I personally don’t feel that’s realistic. Truman nearly locked us away in ’49—that’s why we developed NIGHTINGALE. I think we need to take it seriously.”
There was more murmuring, which Frank let go until silence reigned again. Finally, Sorensen raised his hand. “So if we don’t follow orders, what do we do?”
“Well, you’ll be AWOL. If you try to go back to the United States, you’ll run the risk of being arrested — and then you’ll definitely be thrown in a hole and forgotten. I mean, you’re all trained up pretty well. I have no doubt you could get back into the country without being noticed. But if you try to reach out to your families or in any way try to go back to your normal lives, I got ten bucks that says they’ll find you inside of a week. So if you do decide to disobey orders, your lives will be changed forever. Period,” Frank said.
“So that’s it?” Yamato asked from the back of the room. “Just walk away from everything?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Frank answered. “Get an alias and the papers to back it up. Spend some time moving around, don’t get rooted right away. In a couple years, maybe you can pick a spot to try to settle down. Maybe Mexico or an island somewhere. Don’t try to send a letter or tell anyone from your old life where you are. When we thought of NIGHTINGALE, we came up with some ideas for staying in touch with each other that should work — we’ll use classified ads with code words in the newspapers. We can brief you up on it if you want. But yeah, otherwise, you drop everything and everyone and go find a new life, because the old one will be gone.”
Ekaterina looked like she was on the verge of tears — Frank felt for her, having her second home in four years ripped away from her — but managed to speak up. “What about the other Variants who aren’t here?”
“Whatever guardian angel sent us this likely sent it along to the others as well. I know Zippy Silverman was in on it, and one or two others. We can only hope that the word’s gotten out. I know we’ll keep an ear to the ground in case we hear about anybody getting into trouble.” Frank looked around for other questions, but most everyone was just sitting there, taking it all in. “Cal, anything to add?”
Cal looked surprised, but stepped forward anyway. Frank didn’t like putting him on the spot, but he knew Cal would offer something good — and he wasn’t disappointed. “I guess I’ll just say that if you do decide to head off on your own, you really ought to keep your Enhancements to yourself. I’m sure it’d be mighty tempting to use ’em to set yourself up — and you got your training aside from that, too. But this ain’t a movie. It ain’t a comic book. International jewel thieves get caught. And there ain’t no such thing as superheroes. You stay true to yourselves, make sure you can look at yourselves in the mirror in the morning. Maybe we got sold up the river, I don’t know. But two wrongs don’t make a right. Be smart about it, is all.”
Frank smiled a little at that. “Listen to the man. He’s right. Don’t be dumb. And if I see any caped crusaders in the news, I’ll personally come and kick your ass.” That got some chuckles in the room, as intended. “You have four days to decide. If you do end up going back, all I ask is that you give the rest of us the four full days to get clear before you check in with Washington.”
After listening to one of his countrymen translate, Tsakhia stood up and addressed Frank in Russian. “What will you do?”
Frank turned to the rest of the crowd and spoke in English. “Mikhail here wants to know what I’m doing, and that’s fair, since I’m the one doing all the goddamn talking. I’m out. I have a few things I need to do, but I’m not heading back.”
“And what about Beria?” another Russian asked in English.
Frank just smiled. “Worry about yourself. Comrade Beria will see justice. Anybody else?” There was nothing but silence. “Okay. Let me or Cal or Rose know what you end up deciding to do, and if you’re out, we’ll let you in on our message system. Good luck.”
The group immediately started talking amongst themselves again, and Frank took the opportunity to head outside for some air. Cal and Mrs. Stevens followed. “Good job in there, Frank,” Mrs. Stevens said. “I think you handled that well.”
Frank looked at them both and smiled. “I just realized I don’t know if you’re going to bail out or not. I just assumed.”
Cal chuckled. “Frank, first thing I did when I got that teletype was commandeer a line back home. Sally and I set up our own little code a while back. She’s on the road to Calgary by now. Winston has an open plane ticket. We gonna be fine.”
Frank clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a helluva spy, Cal.”
“Yes, sir, I am,” he replied. “What about you, Rosie?”
Mrs. Stevens gave a sad little smile. “I have twenty-three contingency plans in place for NIGHTINGALE. Eight of them are applicable now. I just… I had always hoped…”
She started to cry a little, and Cal enveloped her in a hug. “I know. I know,” Cal said. “But we knew this was coming. That’s why we planned. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.”
Mrs. Stevens returned the hug for a healthy while before disengaging herself, only to hug Frank as well. “I can tell you’re heading out soon,” she told him after the hug. “Good luck. Stay in touch. Be safe!”
“I will. Maybe after a decade or so, we’ll get together again for a little reunion. Somewhere nice. Cuba, maybe.”
Mrs. Stevens nodded and wiped away her tears with her hand. “I’d like that. I’ll keep an eye out. You two… you take care of yourselves, you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cal said.
After looking around and straightening her uniform, Mrs. Stevens gave them an awkward smile and headed back inside with the other Variants — undoubtedly to mother-hen them until each of them left. They were in good hands.
Frank extended his hand to Cal. “Mr. Hooks, proud to have served with you. It’s been an honor.”
Cal ignored Frank’s hand and gave him a hug instead. “You’re a good man, Frank. You stay that way, you hear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cal put his hands on Frank’s shoulders. “Good luck.”
The two men then walked off into the Korean night, but in different directions.
Detlev Bronk stared at the stacks of teletypes on his desk, having read them several times over. First the one from Washington, closing down MAJESTIC-12 and telling him to keep the electronic jammers on indefinitely and to confine all Variants at Mountain Home to quarters, under armed guard. The second, also from Washington, was a copy of the orders sent to the Variants in the field, telling them to come home. Of course, they’d be immediately detained if they did.
The third ensured they wouldn’t come home. It simply said NIGHTINGALE. Danny had confided in him years ago what that meant.
Finally, the fourth one. Bronk picked it up and read it through again. He had no idea who had sent it, but his money was on either Rose Stevens or Frank Lodge. It reported that Danny Wallace had died in the line of duty, which saddened Bronk greatly. Danny was a good man, one who always advocated for his kind while still loyal to the United States — a massive balancing act if there ever was one.
It also gave a brief rundown on what Beria had done and why — and a theory as to the source of the vortex itself and the intelligences behind it. Or within it. Beyond it. Whatever.