Stoner slipped the bike forward, then parked on the other side. The woman had gotten off her bike, and she joined Stoner as he slipped into the backseat of the car.
“My friend has some information that will be very valuable,” said Stoner after he shut the door. “But if she’s seen REVOLUTION
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meeting you, there are a number of people who could cause problems.”
“OK,” said Dog.
“The location of the guerrilla stronghold is over the border,” said Stoner.
Dog knew this was valuable information, and immediately guessed why the woman didn’t want to be seen—she must be a guerrilla herself.
“I don’t know how I can help,” he said.
In the mirror, Dog saw Stoner put his hand on the woman’s thigh, stopping her from moving toward the door.
“You can pass the information on in a way that it can’t be traced to her,” Stoner said. “And, there is a condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Asylum in America.”
“You’d know more about that than I would,” said Dog.
“I’m just a pilot.”
“You are very famous,” said the woman. “I recognize your face from the television. You are the head of Dreamland.”
Dog nodded. This wasn’t the time or place to explain the current chain of command.
“I can take care of the technicalities, once she’s out of the country,” Stoner said. “Getting her out of the country—that’s where we’ll need your help.”
“Why?”
“Because if I were to go into an airport,” said the woman, “I would most likely be recognized. If you don’t trust Mark—”
“I trust him.”
“Can you do it?” Stoner asked.
If the woman weren’t in the back of the car, Dog would have explained his hesitation. Transporting a guerrilla well known enough to be on a watch list wasn’t exactly part of his mission brief. He could just imagine what General Samson’s reaction would be.
On the other hand, knowing the location of the guerrilla strongholds would be very valuable information.
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“I can probably come up with something,” he said finally.
“Assuming she keeps her end of the bargain.”
“There will be no problem with that,” said Sorina.
“Why are you betraying your friends?” asked Dog.
He saw her face in the mirror. There was pain, and then a mask.
Was it all an act? Or had she debated that very same question?
“The Russians have taken over the movement. There are some devoted revolutionaries, but most of the operations now are being directed by Moscow. The things they are doing turn my stomach.”
Dog glanced in Stoner’s direction. The CIA man’s expression made it clear that he didn’t want him to keep asking questions. To the spy, reasons or motivations weren’t important; results were.
But to Dog, the question was everything. People didn’t give up their friends easily, even if the rest of the world thought it was the right thing to do.
“The Russians know that I am against them,” Sorina went on.
“They would kill me as gladly as the Romanian army or police.”
“And in America you can have a fresh start?” said Dog.
“I don’t want to go to America. Get me to Turkey.”
“I don’t know if I can get you to Turkey.”
“Across the border, then, to any European country. I can move on from there.”
“Where are the hideouts?” asked Dog.
“Not until I am safe,” said Sorina Viorica. “When I am safe, then I will say. Only to Mark.”
Iasi Airfield, Romania
1830
DOG’S MESSAGE TO DANNY WAS VAGUE TO THE POINT OF
being cryptic, though only if you knew the way Colonel Bas-
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tian normally did things. It had been passed along by one of the aides at the small unit where Danny was working with the Romanian soldiers.
OFFICERS MEETING 1830, HERE. PLEASE BE PROMPT.
Danny’s curiosity was piqued further when he saw Colonel Bastian waiting for him on the tarmac when the Osprey touched down.
“Hey, Colonel, what’s up?”
“You eat dinner yet, Danny?”
“Didn’t have a chance.”
“One of the Romanian officers told me about a restaurant in the city. Let’s go.”
“You think that’s a good idea?”
“I do.”
Dog didn’t give any further explanation, and in fact remained silent on the drive. Danny, who hadn’t seen much of Iasi, found himself staring at the buildings. Like much of Eastern Europe, the city at first glance seemed drab, still hungover from the days of Soviet bloc domination. But if you looked long enough, the gray and brown tones gave way to color in unexpected places. There were signs for Coca-Cola, along with billboards advertising Sony televisions and Italian fashions. White facades on new houses, blue stones, an office building with a dramatic, sweeping rise—the city was shaking off the gloom of the old era like a spring daffodil poking through rotted leaves.
The restaurant was another surprise. Large and modern, it could have been located in any American city. The food was Italian, and not bad—Danny ordered spaghetti and meatballs for the first time in months, and cleaned the plate.
“So, eventually you’re going to tell me what’s going on,”
Danny said to Dog as he finished.
The colonel pushed away his plate. He had only picked at his food.
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DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
“I talked to Mark Stoner today. And a friend of his.”
Danny listened as Dog told him about the meeting. His first reaction was anger: He felt the colonel should have told him what was going on beforehand, and not taken the risk himself. But it was hard for Danny to be mad at Dog, and he knew how welcome the information about the location of the guerrilla training camps would be. He also knew from talking with Colonel Oz that Locusta had authorized at least two spy missions over the past few months, without results.
The Romanians didn’t have access to spy satellites; even if they did, Danny knew that small groups of rebels could prove frustratingly difficult to observe or even detect.
“You think that’s a good trade?” he asked. “Sneak her out of the country in exchange for the information? She may be a murderer herself.”
“I don’t know,” said Dog. “The truth is, it’s probably not up to me.”
“ ‘Probably’?”
Dog smiled. “Definitely not up to me. Hard letting go, I guess.”
IT WAS A LOT HARDER LETTING GO THAN DOG WANTED TO
admit, certainly to himself. Was it just the power? Or had he grown so used to cutting through red tape and bureaucracy that the necessity of working through channels and responding to the proper chain of command tired him out?
He would have preferred to think it was the latter. But faced with the need not just to report to Samson, but to ask permission to proceed, he realized it was mostly the former.
Before they left the restaurant, Dog and Danny worked out a plan to assure that the woman would tell where the guerrilla hideout was after she was flown out of the country. It wasn’t very complicated—Danny and one of his men would stay with her; she would communicate the information to Stoner, and then they’d wait until Stoner confirmed that the information was correct before letting her go.
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After Sergeant Liu made the connection, Dog sat down in the seat at the com console, leaning back while he waited for the officer on duty at Dreamland Command to get the general. He was surprised when, rather than Samson, Mack Smith’s face appeared on his small screen.
Mack’s voice boomed in his headset: “Colonel, how are you?”
“How are you, Mack?”
“Surviving. Barely. Between you and me, Colonel … ”
“Yes?”
“Between you and me, I want to get back on the flight line yesterday.”
“Wish I could help you there, Mack.”
“So do I. What’s up?”
“I have something I need to talk to the general about.”