After all that they had been through, it was an inauspicious arrival. A couple of Finnish guys came out and watched in curiosity as the cargo plane bumped down on the unpaved runway. The Finns there spoke a smattering of Russian, so Inna asked to use the telephone.
Then, they settled in to wait.
The two Finns weren’t exactly friendly, but once it became clear that the cargo plane was carrying Americans, rather than Russians, they were greeted more warmly. They were given food, coffee, blankets, and vodka.
“More reindeer stew,” Vaccaro said. “I think I’m starting to like it. Now old Vaska, he would have loved it.”
They slept soundly, warm for the first time in days, and well fed. The next morning, three vehicles appeared on the road into the airfield. This late in year, the road was snow-covered, so the vehicles all had chains on their tires. The lead vehicle was a 1938 Volvo sedan, ugly but tough, perfect for Finland’s backroads.
Whitlock, Inna, and Vaccaro went out to meet the new arrivals. Dmitri stayed indoors by the wood stove. Cole hung back, his rifle held at the ready.
Four or five men got out of the other two vehicles. All of them were armed with submachine guns. They set up a loose perimeter, facing back toward the road.
Only then did Senator Whitlock emerge from the passenger door of the Volvo. He stood staring for a moment at his grandson, then stepped forward and hugged him. “My God,” he said. “It’s good to have you back, Harry.”
“It’s good to be back.” Although emaciated and exhausted, Harry Whitlock had never looked better. He introduced Inna. “I think you already know Vaccaro and Cole.”
The senator nodded. “Indeed, I do. I owe them a debt of gratitude. What about the others?”
Whitlock shook his head. “They didn’t make it.”
They went inside. Harry explained about the welcome party, commanded by Major Dickey, that had met them at the border.
The senator looked troubled. “That’s why I brought those guards along, although I’m not expecting trouble.”
“Honaker said something about the government not wanting us to come home. He said it would only cause complications.”
"About that," the senator said. "I've made… an arrangement with the president.”
“The president?”
“Yes. This thing goes right to the top, and you can’t get any higher than the Oval Office. The official story will be that you were wounded and that the Russians nursed you back to health. You weren’t detained. You were hospitalized.”
“But that’s a lie!”
The senator held up a hand to fend off further protests. “These are complicated times, Harry. We don't need another shooting war on our hands. You're home, and that's what matters.”
“Major Dickey tried to assassinate us.”
“Dickey.” The senator practically spat out the name. “There are some concerns that there may be a rogue faction working in league with the Soviets.” The senator paused. “Communists through and through. It sounds like Honaker was one of them, and Dickey too. If Dickey is smart, he won’t show his face again. That’s also why the president needs you to keep quiet about all this. We just fought a war. We need to appear unified. Can you do that, Harry? Can you keep quiet?”
“What about the others? We weren’t the only Americans being held as pawns by the Russians.”
“We can’t save the world all at once, Harry. The best that I could do was to save you. One war ends and another begins. I’m getting old. We need young people like you to fight this new war. And win it.”
Harry didn’t look happy, but he nodded. “That was quite a speech, you know. You ought to be in politics.”
The senator turned to the others in the room. “What I just said to Harry goes for everyone here. We live to fight another day. Right now, we’re heading back to Germany.” His gaze settled on Cole. “Better make sure you bring along your rifle.”
About the author
David Healey lives in Maryland where he worked as a journalist for more than twenty years. He is a member of the International Thriller Writers and a contributing editor to The Big Thrill magazine. Visit him online at www.davidhealeyauthor.com or www.facebook.com/david.healey.books