A pair of sad, tortured eyes from across the hallway watched as they both departed.
In an adjacent debriefing room, Major-General Roman Smoliy, the commander of the aviation forces of the Republic of Ukraine, had finished all of his debriefing notes and was leaving, when he noticed the lights on in the debriefing room across the hallway, across from the one where Dewey and Deverill had debriefed their sortie. He peeked inside and, to his surprise, saw Colonel David Luger sitting by himself. His arms were straight down at their sides, his head was bowed, his feet were flat on the floor.
Smoliy recognized that posture-it was the posture demanded of prisoners when allowed to sit and rest in their seats.
“Colonel Luger?”
David snapped his head upright, then placed his arms on the table, palms flat and facing down. Another prisoner posture, called seated attention. Luger quickly snapped out of it, turning to look to see who it was. When he recognized Smoliy, his eyes grew dark, and he got to his feet, his body language challenging and defensive at the same time. “What are you doing here, General?”
“I was allowed to conduct a debriefing of Colonel Briggs, Master Sergeant Wohl, Major Weston, and the others involved in the mission who landed at Borispol,” Smoliy replied. “I will conduct an analysis of Russian air defenses and the effectiveness of your stealth technology on the different weapon and sensor systems.” He nodded quizzically at Luger. “May I ask what you are doing here?”
“No, you may not.”
“Why were you not at the reception, or why did you not participate in the operational debriefing?” Smoliy asked.
“None of your business.”
Smoliy nodded. “Very well. I am not your commanding officer — I cannot compel you to answer.”
“Damn straight.”
“It is your choice.” Smoliy looked carefully at Luger, then added, “Zdyes ooyeezhzhayoo seechyas. You may leave now.”
Luger’s eyes did an extraordinary transformation — instantly turning meek and passive, then moments later blazing with white-hot anger, then instantly passive again. It was as if Luger had momentarily gone back to the hellhole in which he had been imprisoned in Lithuania years before, responding robotlike to commands from his brutal, sadistic overseers; then wanting momentarily to fight back; and then almost at the same moment slipping into a passive, protective, detached fog; then angry, almost homicidal. All in the blink of an eye. “Idi k yobanay matiri,” he spat.
Luger tried to walk past Smoliy on his way out, but the big Ukrainian general put his hand out to stop him. “You are no longer a prisoner, Colonel,” he said. “You are a free man, an American. You are a colonel and an engineer in the United States Air Force.” Luger’s eyes blazed into his. “And I am no longer your enemy. I am no longer your tormentor. I do not deserve for you to make remarks about my mother like that.”
“You will always be the sick motherfucker that took advantage of a helpless, tortured human being at Fisikous,” Luger shot back. “I’d kill you if I could.”
“I know what you are feeling, Colonel—”
“Like hell you do!”
“I know,” Smoliy said. “Seeing you again all these years after Fisikous reminded me of the heartless, cruel shit I was back then. I have thought of nothing else since the moment we met, Colonel, nothing! Thinking of the way I twisted your life in that place tortures my sleep every night.” He studied Luger for a moment, then added, “As it has done for you, too, I see. And because of it, you could not bear even to speak with Captain Dewey and Major Deverill, because the thought of you interrogating a fellow prisoner of the Russians was abhorrent to you. No matter that it would be in a different time, a different place, and a completely different manner — it would be an interrogation, and that you could never do.”
“Idi v zhopu, Smoliy! Kiss my ass!” Luger cried in both Russian and English, and he pushed the big Ukrainian out of his way and stormed off.
Headquarters, High-Technology Aerospace Weapons
Center, Elliott AFB, Nevada
“Come in, guys,” Lieutenant General Terrill Samson said, as Patrick McLanahan and David Luger appeared at his doorway. It was early the next morning. All three senior officers were in the office earlier than usual; Patrick and David had found the e-mail message to come see Samson as soon as they got in that morning. The mood was rather somber — Terrill Samson definitely had something on his mind.
Then the two junior officers got the line they had been dreading: “Shut the door.” It was a closed-door meeting. Oh, shit.
After Patrick did so, he and Luger were motioned to chairs, and Samson took his seat behind his desk. The seat of power, the position of authority, Patrick thought. Samson had other, more casual chairs in the office — he could have sat next to his officers, signaling a friendlier discussion on more equal levels. The signs were not looking good at all.
Patrick did not have to wait long for the hammer to fall, either: “General McLanahan, Colonel Luger, I want your requests for retirement on my desk by close of business today,” Samson said simply.
“What?” Luger exclaimed.
“May I ask why, sir?” Patrick asked immediately.
“Because otherwise I’ll be forced to bring you up on charges of insubordination, issuing an illegal order, unauthorized use of government property, unauthorized release of lethal weapons, unauthorized overflight of foreign airspace, and conduct unbecoming an officer. I’ll also charge Colonel Furness with the same charges, so you’ll take her down with you. Colonel Luger will be charged with disobeying a direct lawful order, insubordination, dereliction of duty, and conduct unbecoming an officer. All offenses, if found guilty, carry a maximum sentence of fifteen years’ confinement, forfeit of all pay and benefits, demotion, loss of retirement benefits, and dishonorable discharge. I’d like to avoid all that, so I’m asking for your resignations.”
“Are you notifying us of this action, or are we permitted to discuss this with you first?” Luger asked.
“You got something to say, Colonel, say it. But it won’t change my mind. I thought about this ever since that Russian sortie. This is the best option for you, this organization, and me. To spare HAWC from any more adverse attention, I want you two to take it. Billions of dollars and hundreds of important programs are in jeopardy. But go ahead. Speak freely.”
“I gave the orders to turn around and fly that cover sortie, sir,” Patrick said. “And David’s job was to keep me informed and feed me information on the tactical situation. Colonels Luger or Furness don’t deserve to be charged with any violations. You can’t convict them of anything if they obeyed a lawful order.”
“I specifically ordered Colonel Luger to tell you to make sure you came back on your return routing unless ordered to go somewhere else,” Samson said. “Luger not only did not relay that order, but he assisted you in providing data for your illegal strike. I won’t tolerate that kind of insubordination.
“As for Colonel Furness — it doesn’t matter if she obeyed your orders, and you know it,” Samson went on angrily. “She was the aircraft commander. The decision was hers to comply with your orders or not. She could have legally refused and faced her own court-martial — and I predict she would have been found not guilty of any charges. But you gave an unauthorized order, she knew it was unauthorized, and she followed it. She’ll face the same charges.”