I have a Plan

"I have a plan." Major Rusty Zellis told his squadron after one of his pilots was shot down with a surface to air missile over Russian restricted airspace.  Captain Tommy Hammer Haller was snapping photographic images over a top secret location Vladivostok of their new nuclear submarine.  The Russians sent images of the captain looking a little worse for the wear to the Pentagon.  They also sent a video of Haller asking for clemency in exchange for some information on the computers at the capitol.  

"I hope so or Captain Haller's welfare will be in peril.  It's A big country with plenty of places for someone to disappear." Colonel Turk Hopkins sniffed.  The colonel was in charge of the entire wing of operations at Kadena, Air Base, Japan. They had been trying to get some information on the new generation of these vessels since the Russians opened the shipyard after over thirty years of inactivity.  Colonel Hopkins was told this new weapon was designed for strategic offensive strikes.  He suspected that Japan was A prime target.  He wished he was wrong, but Captain Haller's last transmission showed the colonel his hunch was correct.  

Not since the downing of Captain Gary Powers had they faced such a diplomatic dilemma.  Once again it felt like a check on the diplomatic chess board.  Winning the cold war three decades prior no longer seemed such a monumental victory as it had when he was just a rookie fighter jock.

"What is your plan, major?" His voice was hoarse, still dried out from the press conference and hour meeting with the president and Joint Chiefs of Staff using a virtual meeting.  As he spoke, Colonel Hopkins wondered if the Russians were also listening in even though there was not much classified information communicated.  

"Captain Haller swallowed a tracking device prior to his takeoff.  I figure we have a few hours before he passes that device.  I've got Comm zeroing in on the tracking signal.  I should have a hard location on him within hours." Major Zellis folded his hands on the briefing table in front of him.

"And then what?" The Colonel asked, still thinking about the brutal meeting he had with the president who kept asking him how this could have happened even when he gave full endorsement to the Joint Chiefs.    

"We go in and break him out."  Major Zellis nodded.

"Just like that?" Colonel Hopkins snapped his fingers.

"Yes sir, just like that." Major Zellis nodded.

"I'd like to see that." He pretended to chuckle.

"Stick around, the show is ready to begin." Major Zellis chuckled for real.

A single engine Piper Cub banked against a cold steel gray sky.  A door opened and a man dressed in a full frog suit plunged twenty feet into the ice cold waters off the coast of Vladivostok.  He would swim about two miles to shore in the icy waters.  The plane banked again and headed due east to where the launch ship was waiting. 

Even in a wetsuit, the water was cold enough to steal her breath.  The swimmer was a woman, Lieutenant Nora Walch, dressed as a man to keep Russian intelligence off balance as much as possible.  Even the plane flew below the radar net. With her short quick stroke, she was on shore undetected.  Glancing at her watch, she began to bury her wetsuit in the hard sand.  

In Brussels, two men in trench coats exchanged briefcases without even a word.  Inside Herr Schwertz's briefcase was the coded location of Captain Haller, but that would change by the minute, so he also has a tracking device. When he crossed the border, Here Schwertz would swallow the device like Haller had done before they had taken him.  He would be racing against time as Captain Haller was getting ready to pass the device soon.

Herr Schwertz spoke to a man in German before boarding a train to Warsaw.  He was not a young man. He had worked security for the East Germans before the wall came down in 1990.  He had also been part of the crowd back then.  

Now his destination would be Moscow where he would meet a contact before contacting Captain Haller.  He had done this a few times and was no amateur by any measure. If someone could spring the captive, he was the man.  Having an operative moving from the east was added insurance since the Russian media was trying to incite the third world war.  

Herr Schwertz was said to have ice water in his veins, his elongated face never showed a hint of a facial expression that would tip off an observer.  His calm, cool exterior was legendary, but his real talent was his ability to blend into the crowd.  Some of his exploits were still talked about in the hall at the Kremlin.     

He loved to travel by train, because it gave him time to think things through as the scenery rolled by his window.  He would chat with some of the passengers, do a couple of card tricks with the children, and tickle the restless babies until he had them giggling uncontrollably.  Pulling into the depot, he would fold his newspaper and disappear.

Major Zellis sat in the control room listening to the cross talk, some was in Russian.  His father had come from Russia as a boy, but taught his son the language of the Fatherland.  It had come in handy in ways he had never expected.  According to the press releases from Moscow, Captain Haller was in a high security location near where he had been captured which meant the operative was closer than Herr Schwertz. He did not care which of them got to Major Haller first as long as A major incident could be avoided. 

As soon as Captain Heller had been recovered, they would fly in on Harriers vertical takeoff jets and rescue them.  There were so many things that could go wrong with this plan, but he would think about that now. 

"Hey chief." Drew Bradkowski sat next to him, "How's it hanging?" 

"I've seen better days." He took A sip of some cold black coffee.

"We will do this thing, chief." He patted his commander on the shoulder.

"I wish I had your chutzpah." He sighed.

"We are not afraid.  Me and the guys were talking it over and we are one hundred percent behind you." Bradkowski slapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna need A hundred and ten percent." He smirked before taking another sip of his coffee.

Lieutenant Walsh was at the gate of the shipyard wearing a Russian officer uniform.  Her chestnut hair was cut short like a man and she wore no makeup.  Her identification card was flawless.  The sentry inspected the card and then looked at her before opening the gate.  Moving along the gangplank, she pressed A button in the palm of her hand which began recording.

In perfect Russian, she asked one of the armed guards about the whereabouts of Captain Haller.

"Why are you asking?" The guard asked.

"I need to interrogate him." 

"I will take you to him." The guard jerked his head toward the compound.  He took out some keys and opened the door. "In here." 

"Where?" She asked as she heard the door close as darkness filled the small enclosure. "Damn." 

Major Zellis heard about Lieutenant Walsh from one of the inside informants.  

"What are they going to do to her?" One of the controllers asked.

"How the hell should I know?" He slapped the console with his open hand that made the others jump, he put his head in his hands, apologizing, "Sorry." 

"It's okay, chief." Bradkowski patted Major Zellis on the back.

"No, I'm afraid not this time."  He shook his head, "We had this whole thing planned out.  I figured we could pull this off without A hitch, but I guess I was overly optimistic. I thought we could do this. If we fail, I will be proud that we gave it our best shot."

"It's not over, chief." Bradkowski affirmed.

"What about Lieutenant Walsh?" He looked at each of them.

"It will be alright." Colonel Hopkins walked it, "No operation has ever gone as planned.  Sometimes it's the SNAFUs that make us dig deeper and where we find our true selves in that moment when failure is imminent and yet that's when the best in us comes out." 

There was silence when he got done speaking.  He looked around the control room where everybody was still, frozen in place.

"Do not give up. Ever." He concluded as he walked out of the room.

Shimla, a small island near the end of the Aleutians, was preparing for a strike if it was called for.  A Russian satellite picked up the activity and forwarded the communication at Vladivostok who then forwarded it to the Kremlin. By orders from the very too, the military and defense were put on high alert. 

Captain Haller was being interrogated in a small chamber inside the Party Headquarters using old torture techniques once used on Captain Powers.  Haller was able to endure the first few hours, but the relentless physical punishment was wearing him down.  He screamed as they battered him.

The main officer in charge, who spoke English fluently, kept slapping him on the head, demanding, "Who sent you?"

"I am a pilot from the 67th Fighter Wing from Kadena." He sobbed as the officer struck him again.

"Tell me and we will let you go home." He spoke into Haller's ear.

"I am a pilot from the 67th Fighter Wing-" The blow stopped Haller from finishing his statement.   He began to sob again.  He was exhausted.  They had flown him to Moscow from Vladivostok and kept him awake by dumping cold water over his head and yelling at him.

Herr Schwertz arrived in Moscow early the next morning.  It took him about fifteen minutes to locate Captain Haller using the tracking device, but as soon as he had a fix on Haller, the device stopped transmitting which meant he had expelled the tracker.  He needed to hustle in case they decided to transport him again.  Hailing a taxi, Schwertz went to Party Headquarters. He climbed the daunting stairs walking in the front door of the monolith building.

Showing security his identification card, he accessed the building without a hitch.  Working his way through the labyrinth of offices and corridors, Herr Schwertz found the detention block where Captain Haller was pleading for them to stop. Using a concealed taser, he disabled the guard and the interrogator.

"Captain Haller?" He asked pulling the man's head back by his  hair.

"Yes." He groaned.

"I am going to get you out of here." He told him as he helped Haller to his feet.  Exhausted beyond endurance, Haller hobbled along with Schwertz's aid through the halls.  

"Where are you taking him?" One of the guards asked, blocking their escape.

"He needs medical attention.  I am Dr. Vorske." He explained.

"I thought this man was not to leave this building." The guard raised his AK-47. 

"This man is near death.  A dead prisoner will be of little use to us."

The guard grabbed his radio.  Schwertz got to his taser. After the guard hit the tiled floor, Schwertz placed his unconscious body in a vacant chair and proceeded to drag Haller out the door.  

The streets were bustling with people on their way home after work.  There was a biting chill in the air as Schwertz hailed another cab.

"Who is this man?" The cab driver asked in Russian.

"My brother." Schwertz laughed, "Too much vodka."

"Ah, I have a brother just like him." The can driver chuckled as he pulled away from the curb in the thick traffic of quitting time. 

"Tell us what we want to know or you will wind up at the Gulag." The guard slapped Lieutenant Walsh.

"I told you everything I know." She answered in Russian.

"Who sent you?" He lit a cigarette and let the hot ash fall on her exposed arm.  She winced, but would not give him the satisfaction of crying out in pain, "Why are you dressed like a man when clearly you are not." More hot ashes.  She could hear the sizzle as the ashes invaded her skin.

"I am just a security guard." 

"Oh no, that is not true.  You were sent here to rescue the pilot we shot down." He slapped her across the face with his open palm, drawing blood from her nose.  She could feel it tackle down her face, but with her hands bound behind her back, she could not wipe it away.

"You are aware that your little stunt is considered an act of war.  So was Captain Haller's  invasion." He slapped her even harder. Working the leather strap that bound her hands behind her back against the rough wood of her chair, she felt it give way.  He was armed, but A couple of self defense moves and she would gain access to his weapon.  She would wait until he went to slap the next time.

He leaned in, but this time with his fist. She brought up her arm to block the blow and with her other hand smashed him in the side of his head.  When she delivered this blow, he fell to his knees and relinquished his weapon. Now in control of the weapon, she put the barrel to his head, "Now it's my turn."

The janitor would find him the next morning while on his rounds, hanging by his feet, upside down. He got out his cell phone and took A picture before sounding the alarm.  By that time, Lieutenant Walsh had stolen a MiG and was on her way to Moscow.

"Major Zellis." The radio next to his bed summoned him.

Half awake, he picked it up, "Major Zellis here, over."

"Captain Haller is now in our hands, sir."

"Outstanding." He felt his heart lighten, "And Lieutenant Walsh?"

"Landed in Moscow a few minutes ago."  

"Thank you...thank you." 

The Harriers were on A British carrier, refused and ready for takeoff.  Colonel Hopkins stood on the bridge with the ship's captain.  With binoculars in hand, he watched the 67th Wing takeoff vertically from the carrier in the Baltic Sea on their way to pick up three people; Lieutenant Walsh, Herr Schwertz, and Captain Haller.  The mission was a complete success as soon as they took off from an isolated field just north of Moscow.  Some of the local farmers would assist in the operation. 

The squadron was on strict radio silence until they were clear of Russian airspace.  Once that happened, Colonel Hopkins would be able to breathe once again.  All he could think about was the virtual meeting he had with the president and the Joint Chiefs just yes roger day when Lieutenant Walsh had been taken.  He ate an entire bottle of antacid.

"Major Zellis, I am recommending you for a commendation medal." He told the major when he reported mission accomplished.

"Save your medal, sir, I got all the accolades  I need." 

A couple hours later, through his binoculars he saw the 67th approaching the carrier.  It took only A few minutes to get the jets back on the deck.  The diplomatic disaster had been avoided.  The mission went according to plan.  Russia was still telling the world that the Americans had committed an act of war, but even they grew tired of the hype.      

Captain Haller had his photograph taken shaken hands with the president surrounded by his family. The photograph would win the Pulitzer.

Major Zellis sat in the squadron debriefing room long after the debriefing was over just letting the event wash through him with all the media attention as well as the other distractions that went with it.  

Was it worth all the sacrifice?  It turned out well this time, but there were so many other operations that were failures.  Despite what many believe, God does not play sides.  Fate can be cruel at times.

Finally he rose to his feet and walked out of the debriefing room.  The light of day nearly blinded him but he kept on walking.

"Hey chief." Bradkowski called out to him from the open hangar, "Congratulations are in order." 

"I guess...I suppose they are." He laughed as he got into his car and drove home.

On his drive home, Major Zellis thought about the operation to rescue Captain Haller.  So much was at stake that he almost had to shudder to think of what they had done.  Espionage was a chess game that he wasn’t sure he was qualified to play, but he had and managed to checkmate his opponent through a plan he was not sure would work.  

The sunset over Japan burst into an array of colors that made him glad everything had worked out.  He was satisfied that everything had worked out according to plan.