"Willis E. Grant," Coyote replied. He swallowed. The words were muffled through swollen lips and a spreading numbness in the side of his face. "Lieutenant, United States Navy. Service number three-two-"
A rifle butt crashed into Coyote's skull, an explosion of pain which pitched him forward. One of the guards lashed out twice with his foot, catching Coyote in the thigh.
"There are some facts of which you should be made aware, Lieutenant," the colonel said as the guard backed off. "Your country has not declared war against the People's Democratic Republic of Korea. For this simple reason, the rules of war do not apply to you. In the eyes of my government, in the eyes of the world, you are a criminal, charged with various acts of aggression against the People's Democratic Republic, including an unprovoked attack against one of our aircraft."
Desperation clawed at Coyote's reason. "That's bull-"
Another kick silenced him. Colonel Li continued as though Coyote had not spoken. "Your recitation of name, rank, serial number, and date of birth means nothing. Such civilized rules govern the actions of men and officers at war, but this is not war. You are here, you live at my pleasure. No one can help you. No one even knows you are here. We could keep you locked away or working at hard labor for the rest of your life, or take you out this minute and have you shot… and your people would never know." He paused, drawing a long puff on the cigarette. Coyote watched the tip glow bright orange with a kind of helpless fascination.
"So," Li said after a moment. "You will answer my questions. You will not give me more than what I ask for. You will not give me less." He nodded, and rough hands grabbed at Coyote's hair and hauled him upright into a kneeling position once more. "Now then. Once again. Your name."
"Willis E. Grant."
"Willis E. Grant, you have been charged with acts of sabotage, espionage, murder, and reckless provocation against the People's Democratic Republic. You will describe those activities, and the parts played by ships and aircraft of the United States Navy, in full and complete detail."
"Willis E. Grant. Lieutenant, U.S.N. Service-"
The wooden stock of an AK snapped into the back of his head. Pain jolted through him, leaving him sick and retching on the floor.
"Perhaps," the colonel said, "we are being too lenient with you. We know that your CIA employs thugs and gangsters of the very worst stripe for their espionage activities. Men such as yourself are far too tough to break under mild questioning such as this. I wonder what sterner measures we could employ in your case."
"You can go-" This time the rifle butt struck his spine just above the thongs which pinned his elbows.
When he was dragged back to his knees, Li made a show of studying a stack of papers in his hand. "You are a spy, a saboteur, and a provocateur. You have been hired by the CIA. to spy on the peace-loving People's Democratic Republic. You are also a murderer, having shot down one of our aircraft inside the People's sovereign airspace."
"Screw you!"
This time, he almost didn't feel the pain as they pulled his face off the wooden floor. He felt dizzy, light-headed. He wondered if the goon with the rifle would miscalculate and kill him by mistake.
"Lieutenant Grant, you show an annoying lack of sincerity in these proceedings. I think we shall all be better off if we simply take you out and shoot you." The officer barked something at the guards in Korean. Hands closed around his elbows, yanked him to his feet, and held him upright as a soldier opened the door. His flight boots scraped on the floor as they dragged him out.
In daylight once again, Coyote found himself looking up into blue sky. The cloud deck which had covered the area the day before had broken up. The wind, sharp and biting off the sea, burned like flame through his wet flight suit.
There was a parade ground not far from the headquarters building, a clearing of red clay ringed in by storage sheds and the back of a motor pool garage. One of the sheds had a wall of sandbags stacked up ten feet high facing the courtyard, a lone, head-high stake driven into the mud just in front of it.
They were going to shoot him. The reality of the situation was like a black cloud which overrode the pain, the shock of the interrogator's words, the harsh laughter of the guards as they shoved him upright against the stake, looped a leather strap nailed to the wood around his neck, and pulled it snug.
Coyote had made it through the long and sleepless night before by thinking about Julie, calling to mind her face, her voice, remembering in loving detail each moment he'd shared with her during his all-too-brief leave before reporting to VF-95 at the North Island Naval Air Station at Coronado and flying out to the Jefferson. With death a few seconds away, he struggled now to recapture those memories, to hold Julie in his mind as a last conscious thought.
They'd arranged to meet Tombstone in Balboa Park and had a picnic on the grass. Then the three of them had gone to the San Diego Zoo and taken Polaroid photographs of one another mugging in front of the ape house as the yammering howl of a gibbon floated down from the trees behind them.
Later, they'd dropped Tombstone off at the base, then driven north up Highway 5. They'd stopped at a motel overlooking the ocean north of San Clemente, made love on the beach to the rumbling thunder of surf, and watched the sun come up in glory behind the San Jacinto Mountains.
That afternoon he'd reported to Tombstone at Coronado, the scent of Julie's hair still warm in his nostrils.
He found it hard to focus on the memory of her face. It was strange. When he thought of death at all, it was in the context of flying, a flash of exploding fuel and warheads… and it was over. Somehow, he'd never thought death would claim him like this, tied to a stake in front of a firing squad, somewhere inside a third-rate, third-world country thousands of miles from home.
The guard gave the strap at his throat a last savage yank, and Coyote gagged against the unrelenting pressure. He was still so weak from repeated beatings that he could barely stand. His knees threatened to give way as the strap tightened.
An officer, a major this time, led two more soldiers onto the parade ground. The soldiers lined up a few feet in front of Coyote, checking their AK-47 rifles with a busy clack-clack of sliding bolts. The officer stood to one side, a broad smile twisting his flat features as he raised his hand, palm out. "Junbenun!"
The rifles snapped to the soldiers' shoulders, the muzzles three feet away from Coyote's face. He could see their eyes, deadly and glittering on the far sides of each weapon's sights. With something like resignation, he closed his eyes, shutting off the sun, the harbor…
"Chigum!"
The snapping of bolts on empty chambers sounded like the clatter of typewriter keys. Coyote opened his eyes again. The officer burst into screeching laughter. The strap gouged at Coyote's throat, making each breath a struggle.
The officer released the strap and Coyote collapsed to the ground, his arms still cinched behind him, his face pressed down into the wet clay.
Coyote concentrated on breathing, one shaky breath following another. He couldn't say that he'd been ready to die, but pain and exhaustion had conspired to rob him of any real interest in living. Now, though, the air was sweet. Relief flooded his body in a rush which actually set the pain at a distance.
He heard the squish of footsteps in the clay and opened his eyes to see a pair of polished black boots inches from his face. "No, Willis E. Grant." The familiar voice of the interrogator sounded as though it were coming from light-years away. "No, I do not think your death will be so easy. We have a very great deal we wish to learn from you, and you will tell us. It may take time, but you may be very certain that you will tell us!"
One of the boots drew back. Coyote saw the blow coming but could do nothing to avoid it. He closed his eyes as the world exploded in raw pain and the taste of blood pumping from his nose. The kick knocked him onto his back, and when he opened his eyes, the sky appeared alive with light and shadow and a roaring in his ears.