‘So?’ his general asked.
‘It goes well, but I must have more people. This is too much for one man to do alone.’
‘That is not possible.’ The General poured his guest a glass of mineral water. The principal mineral present was salt. The Russians drank a lot of that here. ‘Nikolay Yevgeniyevich, they’re being difficult again.’
‘Comrade General, I know that I am only a fighter pilot and not a political theorist. I know that our fraternal socialist allies are on the front line of the conflict between Marxism-Leninism and the reactionary Capitalist West. I know that this war of national liberation is a vital part of our struggle to liberate the world from oppression -‘
‘Yes, Kolya’ – the General smiled slyly, allowing the man who was not a political theorist to dispense with farther ideological incantations – ‘we know that all of this is true. Do go on. I have a busy day planned.’
The Colonel nodded his appreciation. ‘These arrogant little bastards are not helping us. They are using us, they are using me, they are using my prisoners to blackmail us. And if this is Marxism-Leninism, then I’m a Trotskyite.’ It was a joke that few would have been able to make lightly, but Grishanov’s father was a Central Committee member with impeccable political credentials.
‘What are you learning, Comrade Colonel?’ the General said, just to keep things on track.
‘Colonel Zacharias is everything that we were told, and more. We are now planning how to defend the Rodina against the Chinese. He is the “blue team” leader.’
‘What?’ The General blinked. ‘Explain?’
‘This man is a fighter pilot, but also an expert on defeating air defenses. Can you believe it, he’s only flown bombers as a guest, but he’s actually planned SAC missions and helped to write SAC doctrine for defense-avoidance and -suppression. So now he’s doing that for me.’
‘Notes?’
Grishanov’s face darkened. ‘Back at the camp. Our fraternal socialist comrades are “studying” them. Comrade General, do you know how important this data is?’
The General was by profession a tank officer, not an aviator, but he was also one of the brighter stars rising in the Soviet firmament, here in Vietnam to study everything the Americans were doing. It was one of the premier jobs in his country’s uniformed service.
‘I would imagine that it’s highly valuable.’
Kolya leaned forward. ‘In another two months, perhaps six weeks, I will be able to reverse-plan SAC. I’ll be able to think as they think. I will know not only what their current plans are, but I will also be able to duplicate their thinking into the future. Excuse me, I do not mean to inflate my importance,’ he said sincerely. ‘This American is giving me a graduate course in American doctrine and philosophy. I’ve seen the intelligence estimates we get from KGB and GRU. At least half of it is wrong. That’s only one man. Another man has told me about their carrier doctrine. Another about NATO war plans. It goes on, Comrade General.’
‘How do you do this, Nikolay Yevgeniyevich?’ The General was new at this post, and had met Grishanov only once before, though his service reputation was better than excellent.
Kolya leaned back in his chair. ‘Kindness and sympathy.’
‘To our enemies?’ the General asked sharply.
‘Is it our mission to inflict pain on these men?’ He gestured outside. “That’s what they do, and what do they get for it? Mainly lies that sound good. My section in Moscow discounted nearly everything these little monkeys sent. I was told to come here to get information. That is what I am doing. I will take all the criticism I must in order to get information such as this, Comrade.’
The General nodded. ‘So why are you here?’
‘I need more people! It’s too much for one man. What if I am killed – what if I get malaria or food poisoning – who will do my work? I can’t interrogate all of these prisoners myself. Especially now that they are beginning to talk, I take more and more time with each, and I lose energy, I lose continuity. There are not enough hours in the day.’
The General sighed. ‘I’ve tried. They offer you their best -‘
Grishanov almost snarled in frustration. ‘Their best what? Best barbarians? That would destroy my work. I need Russians. Men, kulturny men! Pilots, experienced officers. I’m not interrogating private soldiers. These are real professional warriors. They are valuable to us because of what they know. They know much because they are intelligent, and because they are intelligent they will not respond well to crude methods. You know what I really need to support me? A good psychiatrist. And one more thing,’ he added, inwardly trembling at his boldness.
‘Psychiatrist? That is not serious. And I doubt that we’ll be able to get other men into the camp. Moscow is delaying shipments of antiaircraft rockets for “technical reasons.” Our local allies are being difficult again, as I said, and the disagreement escalates.’ The General leaned back and wiped sweat from his brow. ‘What is this other thing?’
‘Hope, Comrade General. I need hope.’ Colonel Nikolay Yevgeniyeyush Grishanov gathered himself.
‘Explain.’
‘Some of these men know their situation. Probably all suspect it. They are well briefed on what happens to prisoners here, and they know that their status is unusual. Comrade General, the knowledge these men have is encyclopedic. Years of useful information.’
‘You’re building up to something.’
‘We can’t let them die,’ Grishanov said, immediately qualifying himself to lessen the impact of what he was saying. ‘Not all of them. Some we must have. Some will serve us, but I must have something to offer to them.’
‘Bring them back?’
‘After the hell they’ve lived here -‘
‘They’re enemies, Colonel! They all trained to kill us! Save your sympathy for your own countrymen!’ growled a man who’d fought in the snows outside Moscow.
Grishanov stood his ground, as the General had once done. ‘They are men, not unlike us, Comrade General. They have knowledge that is useful, if only we have the intelligence to extract it. It is that simple. Is it too much to ask that we treat them with kindness, that we give something in return for learning how to save our country from possible destruction? We could torture them, as our “fraternal socialist allies” have done, and get nothing! Does that serve our country?’ It came down to that, and the General knew it. He looked at the Colonel of Air Defense and his first expressed thought was the obvious one.
‘You wish to risk my career along with yours? My father is not a Central Committeeman.’ I could have used this man in my battalion…
‘Your father was a soldier,’ Grishanov pointed out. ‘And like you, a good one.’ It was a skillful play and both knew it, but what really mattered was the logic and significance of what Grishanov was proposing, an intelligence coup that would stagger the professional spies of KGB and GRU. There was only one possible reaction from a real soldier with a real sense of mission.
General-Lieutenant Yuri Konstantinovich Rokossovskiy pulled a bottle of vodka from his desk. It was the Starka label, dark, not clear, the best and most expensive. He poured two small glasses.
‘I can’t get you more men. Certainly I cannot get you a physician, not even one in uniform, Kolya. But, yes, I will try to get you some hope.’
The third convulsion since her arrival at Sandy’s house was a minor one, but still troubling. Sarah had gotten her quieted down with as mild a shot of barbiturate as she dared. The blood work was back, and Doris was a veritable collection of problems. Two kinds of venereal disease, evidence of another systemic infection, and possibly a borderline diabetic. She was already attacking the first three problems with a strong dose of antibiotics. The fourth would be handled with diet and reevaluated later. For Sarah the signs of physical abuse were like something from a nightmare about another continent and another generation, and it was the mental aftermath of that that was the most disquieting of all, even as Doris Brown closed her eyes and lapsed into sleep.
‘Doctor, I -‘
‘Sandy, will you please call me Sarah? We’re in your house, remember?’
Nurse O’Toole managed an embarrassed smile. ‘Okay, Sarah. I’m worried.’
‘So am I. I’m worried about her physical condition, I’m worried about her psychological condition. I’m worried about her “friends” -‘
‘I’m worried about John,’ Sandy said discordantly. Doris was under control. She could see that. Sarah Rosen was a gifted clinician, but something of a worrier, as many good physicians were.
Sarah headed out of the room. There was coffee downstairs. She could smell it and was heading for it. Sandy came with her. ‘Yes, that, too. What a strange and interesting man.’
‘I don’t throw my newspapers away. Every week, same time, I bundle them together for the garbage collection – and I’ve been checking the back issues.’