thought I'd mention it." Saarinen said, offended, "You
could always try taking off without me if it bothers you. And you and your
friend ov( there had better put out those damned cigarettes or none of us will
be going anywhere." He nodded over to the aircraft. "There are six
thousand pounds of highly inflammable fuel in those tanks. Do it, now!"
The younger man stubbed out his cigarette
the moment Sariiien barked the order, but the older Ukrainian stared at
Saarinen sullenly, then grudgingly followed suit.
"Who knows? Perhaps it might be a
better way to die than taking our chances with a pilot who's a cripple."
Massey saw the anger flare on Saarinen's
face and he said quickly to the Ukrainian, "That's enough, Boris. Just
remember, your life's in this man's hands so be nice to him. And for your
information, you've got the best pilot in the business. And he knows the route
as well."
"Let's hope so." The Ukrainian
shrugged and said grudgingly to Saarinen as he nodded over to the DC-3,
"So you think we'll make it in this American crate?"
Saarinen bit back his temper and said
evenly, "I don't know why not. It might be a lousy night for flying but
then that means the Reds won't be too anxious to put their own planes up. It
should be all right. The danger point is approaching the Soviet Czech border.
After that it's roses all the way."
"Then we're in your hands, it
seems."
The second man came over and nodded to
Massey and Saarinen. Massey introduced them and the young man said to Massey,
"Something tells me I should have taken my chances with a war crimes
trial."
"Too late now. OK, let's run through
a final check. Paper belongings, money. On the table."
The Ukrainians emptied out their pockets
on the table as Massey sifted through their belongings. "Everything looks
in order. Once you get to Moscow and get yourselves organized you know what to
do."
Both men nodded.
"That's it, then. Good luck to both
of you." The red-haired Ukrainian grunted and said to Saarinen, "If
we get to Moscow. Whenever you're ready, my little crippled friend."
Saarinen glared at the man and went to
move toward him, but Massey gripped the Finn's shoulder as the Ukrainian turned
dismissively and he and his companion walked toward the aircraft, parachutes
over their shoulders, both of them laughing.
"Maybe I should drop them in the
wrong zone, just for the fun of it, and let the KGB do the work for me."
"Don't worry, the life expectancy of
those two isn't long. If they do make it to Moscow, they'll be lucky. You ought
to know-most of the agents we send in get caught in the first forty-eight
hours, but it's still a chance that's better than a rope or a firing
squad."
"And I have to say some of the bastards
you use deserve it, Jake. Right, I suppose I'd better get moving."
As Saarinen picked up a parachute and
went to move toward the stairs up to the DC-3, a jeep pulled up outside the
hangar and a young man in civilian clothes climbed out and went over to Massey.
"Message for you, sir."
He handed across a telegram and Massey
tore it open, read the contents, then said to the man, "Carry on,
Lieutenant. There's no reply needed."
The man climbed back into the jeep and
drove off into heavy rain as Saarinen came over.
"Bad news? Don't tell me, the drop's
canceled because of the weather?"
He grinned. "Never mind that I've
flown in much worse without a copilot, like tonight. With a bit of luck I might
just make it to a nightclub in Munich, and those two bastards on board can live
on their nerves for another night." Massey said, "Afraid not. And it
depends on what you mean by bad news. I've been recalled to Washington as soon
as I've finished this week's parachute drops."
" Lucky for you." Saarinen
smiled. "Me, I'm taking a rest after this one, Jake. Time to throttle back
and rest my wings. Some of these former SS scum you're using are starting to
get on my nerves."
Saarinen went up the metal stairs of the
aircraft and at the top he hauled in the
could always try taking off without me if it bothers you. And you and your
friend ov( there had better put out those damned cigarettes or none of us will
be going anywhere." He nodded over to the aircraft. "There are six
thousand pounds of highly inflammable fuel in those tanks. Do it, now!"
The younger man stubbed out his cigarette
the moment Sariiien barked the order, but the older Ukrainian stared at
Saarinen sullenly, then grudgingly followed suit.
"Who knows? Perhaps it might be a
better way to die than taking our chances with a pilot who's a cripple."
Massey saw the anger flare on Saarinen's
face and he said quickly to the Ukrainian, "That's enough, Boris. Just
remember, your life's in this man's hands so be nice to him. And for your
information, you've got the best pilot in the business. And he knows the route
as well."
"Let's hope so." The Ukrainian
shrugged and said grudgingly to Saarinen as he nodded over to the DC-3,
"So you think we'll make it in this American crate?"
Saarinen bit back his temper and said
evenly, "I don't know why not. It might be a lousy night for flying but
then that means the Reds won't be too anxious to put their own planes up. It
should be all right. The danger point is approaching the Soviet Czech border.
After that it's roses all the way."
"Then we're in your hands, it
seems."
The second man came over and nodded to
Massey and Saarinen. Massey introduced them and the young man said to Massey,
"Something tells me I should have taken my chances with a war crimes
trial."
"Too late now. OK, let's run through
a final check. Paper belongings, money. On the table."
The Ukrainians emptied out their pockets
on the table as Massey sifted through their belongings. "Everything looks
in order. Once you get to Moscow and get yourselves organized you know what to
do."
Both men nodded.
"That's it, then. Good luck to both
of you." The red-haired Ukrainian grunted and said to Saarinen, "If
we get to Moscow. Whenever you're ready, my little crippled friend."
Saarinen glared at the man and went to
move toward him, but Massey gripped the Finn's shoulder as the Ukrainian turned
dismissively and he and his companion walked toward the aircraft, parachutes
over their shoulders, both of them laughing.
"Maybe I should drop them in the
wrong zone, just for the fun of it, and let the KGB do the work for me."
"Don't worry, the life expectancy of
those two isn't long. If they do make it to Moscow, they'll be lucky. You ought
to know-most of the agents we send in get caught in the first forty-eight
hours, but it's still a chance that's better than a rope or a firing
squad."
"And I have to say some of the bastards
you use deserve it, Jake. Right, I suppose I'd better get moving."
As Saarinen picked up a parachute and
went to move toward the stairs up to the DC-3, a jeep pulled up outside the
hangar and a young man in civilian clothes climbed out and went over to Massey.
"Message for you, sir."
He handed across a telegram and Massey
tore it open, read the contents, then said to the man, "Carry on,
Lieutenant. There's no reply needed."
The man climbed back into the jeep and
drove off into heavy rain as Saarinen came over.
"Bad news? Don't tell me, the drop's
canceled because of the weather?"
He grinned. "Never mind that I've
flown in much worse without a copilot, like tonight. With a bit of luck I might
just make it to a nightclub in Munich, and those two bastards on board can live
on their nerves for another night." Massey said, "Afraid not. And it
depends on what you mean by bad news. I've been recalled to Washington as soon
as I've finished this week's parachute drops."
" Lucky for you." Saarinen
smiled. "Me, I'm taking a rest after this one, Jake. Time to throttle back
and rest my wings. Some of these former SS scum you're using are starting to
get on my nerves."
Saarinen went up the metal stairs of the
aircraft and at the top he hauled in the
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