Revolution

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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DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

“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 Da

OFFICERS MEETING 1830, HERE. PLEASE BE PROMPT.

Da

“Hey, Colonel, what’s up?”

“You eat di

“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. Da

The restaurant was another surprise. Large and modern, it could have been located in any American city. The food was Italian, and not bad—Da

“So, eventually you’re going to tell me what’s going on,”

Da

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.”

Da

The Romanians didn’t have access to spy satellites; even if they did, Da

“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 cha

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 Da

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After Sergeant Liu made the co

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.”