Gone Tomorrow - Lee Child [70]
“And you know this how?”
“You know how I know it. We expected to fight a land war with them in Europe. We expected to win. We expected to take millions of them prisoner. MPs were trained to handle them all. The 110th was going to direct operations. Delusional, maybe, but the Pentagon took it very seriously. We were taught more about the Red Army than we were about the U.S. Army. Certainly we were told exactly where to find the commissars. We were under orders to execute them all immediately.”
“What kind of journalist?”
“Television, probably. The local crew she hired was tied to the television business. And have you ever seen Eastern European television? All the anchors are women, and they all look sensational.”
“What country?”
“Ukraine.”
“What angle?”
“Investigative, historical, with a little human interest mixed in. The younger one probably heard the older one’s story and decided to run with it.”
“Like the History Channel in Russian?”
“In Ukrainian,” I said.
“Why? What’s the message? They want to embarrass us now? After more than twenty-five years?”
“No, I think they want to embarrass the Russians. There’s a lot of tension right now between Russia and the Ukraine. I think they’re taking America’s evil for granted, and saying that big bad Moscow shouldn’t have put poor helpless Ukrainians in harm’s way.”
“So why haven’t we seen the story already?”
“Because they’re way behind the times,” I said. “They’re looking for confirmation. They still seem to have some kind of journalistic scruples over there.”
“Are they going to get confirmation?”
“Not from you, presumably. And no one else knows anything for sure. Susan Mark didn’t live long enough to say yea or nay. So the lid is back on. I advised them to forget all about it and head home.”
“Why are they posing as mother and daughter?”
“Because it’s a great con,” I said. “It’s appealing. It’s like reality TV. Or those magazines they sell in the supermarket. Clearly they studied our culture.”
“Why wait so long?”
“It takes time to build a mature television industry. They probably wasted years on important stuff.”
Sansom nodded vaguely, and said, “It’s not true that no one knows anything for sure. You seem to know plenty.”
“But I’m not going to say anything.”
“Can I trust you on that?”
“I served thirteen years. I know all kinds of things. I don’t talk about them.”
“I’m not happy about how easy it was for them to approach Susan Mark. And I’m not happy we didn’t know about her from the get-go. We never even heard of her before the morning after. This whole thing was like an ambush. We were always behind the curve.”
I was looking at the photographs on the wall behind him. Looking at the tiny figures. Their shapes, their postures, their silhouettes. I said, “Really?”
“We should have been told.”
I said, “Have a word with the Pentagon. And with those guys from the Watergate.”
Sansom said, “I will.” Then he went quiet, as if he was rethinking and reassessing, more calmly and at a slower pace than his usual fast field-officer style. The lid is back on. He seemed to examine that proposition for a spell, from all kinds of different angles. Then he shrugged, and got a slightly sheepish look on his face, and he asked, “So what do you think of me now?”
“Is that important?”
“I’m a politician. It’s a reflex inquiry.”
“I think you should have shot them in the head.”
He paused and said, “We had no silenced weapons.”
“You did. You had just taken one from them.”
“Rules of engagement.”
“You should have ignored them. The Red Army didn’t travel with forensics labs. They would have had no idea who shot who.”
“So what do you think of me?”
“I think you shouldn’t have handed them over. That was uncalled for. That was going to be the point of the story, as a matter of fact, on Ukrainian TV. The idea was to get the old woman next to you and let her ask you why.”
Sansom shrugged again. “I wish she could. Because the truth is, we didn’t hand them over. We turned them loose instead. It was a calculated