Jim Forrestal tucked into his steak with relish. It’d been another long week, but a successful one. Success in politics was often measured in inches — a good conversation here, a couple tidbits of information there. Pushing the agenda forward, one tiny step at a time, and doing everything possible to make America safe once more.
“Are you sure about your source, Jim?” his dining companion said. “Are they trustworthy?”
Forrestal smiled. “They may be different than us. They may not even be human anymore. But some of them, at least, still see themselves as patriotic Americans. And most of them are scared.”
The other man, a large, slightly pudgy fellow with a fine suit and piercing eyes, grimaced nonetheless. “Not human… what are they, then?”
“They were human, don’t forget that,” Forrestal said between bites. “I don’t know what they are now. But the most important thing is that we contain them before we use them. We’re not doing that. That goddamn Hilly has ’em set up in apartments and houses, for God’s sake! Might as well leave your wallet in the middle of the National Mall for someone to take.”
The other man shook his head. “They’re not a wallet, Jim. From what you’re telling me, they’re dangerous. They’re a time bomb. They’re more than human now. And they’ll be even more dangerous once they start realizing that.”
“Exactly, Joe. They don’t have oversight. They aren’t contained. Technically, they’re citizens, but both Hilly and Truman want to keep treating them like normal people. They aren’t.” Forrestal paused for a swig of wine, a fine Bordeaux from the cellars of Washington’s storied Old Ebbitt Grill, where the two men sat ensconced in comfort and luxury. “I’m glad you’re on the same page here.”
Senator Joseph McCarthy, freshman Republican from Wisconsin, nodded. “These whaddyacallits, Variants… it sounds to me like they’re the biggest threat to the United States other than the Reds. What do you need from me, Jim?”
Forrestal smiled. “It’s not an overnight thing. MAJESTIC-12 is too entrenched right now. But when Truman loses to Dewey — and he will, I’ll promise you that — then it’s going to fall to Congress to start pushing hard. And I know you, Joe. You know how to push.”
McCarthy offered up a grim smile as he finally unfolded his napkin and looked over his plate. “I know how to push. Don’t worry about that.”
The room was very much as Frank remembered it — and unfortunately, try as he might, he remembered it very well indeed.
Deep below the streets of East Berlin, the room was well preserved, despite the demolition of the old Reich Chancellery above. The access tunnels and secret doors were preserved, then apparently forgotten by the Soviet occupiers once they cleaned the place out.
And they had cleaned it out pretty damn well. The stone walls and dirt floor were all that remained, and even the floor looked somehow swept clean — Frank figured the Russians would leave no stone unturned. They certainly took the table and all the machinery.
And, of course, they took the anomaly.
Frank turned to Danny and shrugged. “Told you. The Reds saved my bacon here. Figured they’d take it all.”
Danny smiled back, while Captain Anderson kept his eyes on the exit. “They didn’t count on us, now, did they? Zippy?”
Behind them, a small, thin young woman — no older than twenty, Frank guessed — nodded grimly. “There are things they couldn’t take,” she said, a light Boston accent creeping in. “Nobody can take the past.”
Zipporah Silverman walked forward into the immensity of the room, stopping to crouch down almost exactly where Frank remembered that the anomaly appeared. She moved her long, dark hair from her face and placed her hands on the floor.
“What are you calling this again?” Frank asked.
“Psychokinesis,” Danny replied quietly.
“Fancy.”
“Better than the long explanation.”
Frank had gotten that explanation on the flight over, the three agents tucked in a cargo plane full of food and fuel for West Berlin’s trapped residents. The Reds put up a land blockade of West Berlin in order to — well, whatever they thought they could get away with, Frank supposed. But the Air Force and the Brits had put together a massive airlift, daily flights to West Berlin that would probably last until the Reds gave up — because Frank knew the Americans were more stubborn than the Russians would ever be.
It would likely take a long, long time, though. For now, another stalemate. This Cold War was turning out to be a corker.
From the airfield, Danny led them through West Berlin, and they used forged passports to enter the Soviet sector of the city. That part had been easy enough — getting back would be tougher, no doubt.
Zippy — the nickname belied the girl’s too-serious demeanor — crouch-walked forward, her fingertips still brushing the ground. “They were here… for months. After the city fell, this was their new headquarters. They… they didn’t think their experiments would work. I see one man, a thin man, widow’s peak, angry… he’s telling someone they would need… experimental subjects.”
Frank’s eyes widened. “Me and Mike Petersen,” he breathed. “We were handy.”
Danny put a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Sorry.”
Zippy finally stood and turned toward them. “That’s it. Everything else is a blur. There was too much activity here to get a better read on it. But I don’t think there were any other Variants created here. Just Frank.”
“All this just to hear that?” Anderson groused.
“Not entirely,” Frank said. And with that, he raised a pistol at Anderson from just five feet away.
“What the hell, Lodge?” the Marine demanded before turning to Danny. “Commander, tell this man to stand down!”
“I can’t do that, Andy,” Danny said sadly. “And you know why.”
“Commander?” Panic flashed briefly behind Anderson’s eyes. He made to reach for his gun, only to find Zippy was already busy relieving him of it.
Frank cocked his pistol. “You see, Captain, I got in Yushchenko’s head as he died, and he knew a lot of things. A lot of things. Like how Area 51 had been compromised. How someone was passing him intel from deep inside the base.”
Anderson straightened up. “There’s a leak? Is Silverman here even cleared for this?”
“Cut it out!” Danny shouted, drawing his own gun and leveling it at Anderson. “What happened, Andy? What made you turn on your country? Your friends?”
Looking from one face to another, Anderson finally caved. “Look, Danny. I’m sorry, but these Variants, these things you want to keep on a leash, they’re dangerous! My contact knew that. They told me the Russians, they were keeping them locked down. I didn’t know they were gonna use them just like us, I swear!”
“You betrayed us,” Danny said coldly. “Not just the Variants. Your country. You’ve seen the reports — the Russian Variants want to take over. And your intel walked Frank and the rest of them into a trap. You helped kill Ellis Longstreet.”
Tears started falling from Anderson’s eyes. “Look, it wasn’t supposed to happen that way! If I knew the Variants over there were making a play, I wouldn’t have done it!”
Frank stepped forward so that the gun was inches from Anderson’s chest. “Sure, you were saving the human race — and lining your pockets, too.”
Anderson fell to his knees, his hands up. “Yeah, all right, I’m sorry. I got into debt after the war. Gambling, drinking… it was hard, doing the things I did for the OSS. So, I reached out to some Reds I worked with in Hungary during the war. They set it up.”
“And when Longstreet escaped?” Frank prompted.