For Love or Country

by Jesse Jordan

  “You're asking me to be a spy. You know my background, so let's cut to the chase there. Ivan was a spy, and he broke my heart. He's still breaking my heart, I don't know if I'm going to be the same ever. So you thought that it'd be a good idea to make me become the person who broke my heart?” I ask, getting pissed off. “And what if I say no?”

  “Then you are reassigned. You'll be sent to Fort Lee to work in the Defense Commissary Agency for the next five years, even the most paranoid of Army security can't think that doing paperwork on toilet paper orders is a security risk. It's a decent job, you'll make contacts that will let you easily transition to a career in supermarket management afterwards if that's what you want, and well... the story's over for you, quite boring. But, if you say yes....”

  “If,” I emphasize, and Ashley nods.

  “Yes, if. The 52nd is a totally volunteer unit. We have to be. As I was saying, if you work for the 52nd, you'll have a chance to do what you told me on the roof of Thayer Hall, to make a difference. You'll be able to live the dream that you talked about, even if the public never knows about it. That's something you'll have to live with too. Normally, the 52nd doesn't accept Second Lieutenants, but we've decided to bend the rules a bit due to your unique circumstances. But no awards, no decorations, no schools will show up on your record. The only thing someone might notice is you'll be promoted above the grade for as long as you're in the 52nd. You'll make Captain in three years, Major in nine, and Lieutenant Colonel in roughly fifteen, if you stay in that long.”

  “That's a nice benefit,” I note, and Ashley nods. “There's gotta be a catch.”

  “There is. You see, in bending the rules, I had to convince the Colonel in charge of the 52nd that you're worth the risk. He needed more than just the word of General Nelson,” Ashley says, and I smile. So I was right, the Commandant did have a hand in this. “You may not be smiling when I'm done. You join us, and the 52nd is going to put you through a very, very unique training course. And until you make Captain, you're going to be partnered with someone. You two will live together as well, in a house assigned to you by the 52nd. This is going by a whole new rule book, and because of that, you're not going to be part of the real 52nd, but rather this Annex, until you and your partner prove yourselves to us. And yes, I'm going to be your training officer and your immediate superior. I'm not going to be easy either, Christina. I'm going to push you to the limit, and then see if we can push you a few steps past it. You lived through silencing, and you thought that was hell. It's just going to be a warmup compared to what I'm going to be putting you through. But there's going to be a difference.”

  “What's that?” I ask, and Ashley smiles.

  “Simple. Regardless of how hard I push you, I'll respect you and treat you like a human being. A human being who, when she was pissed off, won five medals in the Brigade Open championships including setting the pool record for the 200 IM, yet was also hard headed enough to score an exact one eighty on her final APFT for the Academy. Your partner is pretty hard headed too, this could be very interesting. No more info, decision time. What do you say?”

  I grin, and give Ashley a nod. “I'd say you've got yourself a new Lieutenant. So, when do I get to meet this partner of mine? Please tell me you guys recruited Karli Franklin too, she's so damn smart she'd excel at this sort of stuff.”

  Ashley shakes her head, and leads me out of her office. “Nope, sorry. Karli's smart, but let her cut her teeth in the MI for a while first. I think you'll be pleased with who we did find to be your partner though.”

  Ashley walks quickly, and I didn't realize just how big this building is until I'm fully lost, and she leads me up a set of stairs. “In case you're wondering, this property used to be used to hold mothballed Sheridan tanks. The interior walls are a little newer, but come fall and winter, you might find it helpful to wear some thermals, this place can get pretty chilly. Ah, here we are.”

  Ashley opens the door, and the first man I see is someone in an Army flight suit, maybe about six feet tall. He's got a really noticeable scar on his cheek, and has an aristocratic look about him, with his short cropped hair making him look like a pilot. He's talking with someone in Russian, but I can't see who it is. “Simon?”

  “Oh, hey honey,” Simon say, standing up. “I was just discussing the best places to go get some food near the house, I figured they'd like to know. So?”

  “So... meet Christina Logan, the newest member of the 52nd. Christina, this is my husband, Simon Lancaster. And this is your partner....”

  I fully enter the room and my heart stops as Ivan springs to his feet, tears streaming down his face as he sees me. “Christina. Moya lyubov', bozhe moy, eto tak khorosho, chtoby videt' vas. Ya sil'no skuchal po tebe! Neuzheli eto ty?”

  He rushes to me, but stops, unsure if I want him, and I can't help it. I grab him in a hug and hold him close, both of us whispering words, he in Russian, me in English, but I know what he's saying, because I'm saying it too. “I love you, Ivan. I missed you so much.”

  “Okay guys, you two have plenty of time tonight to have a reunion. For now though, let's get you two out to your quarters. For a little while at least, it's on the property. You two are in school as of now,” Simon says after clearing his throat, “and so for a few weeks you're restricted to the property. Told you it was going to be hard. Follow me.”

  We walk down the stairs, and out the back of the Annex, where I see what is perhaps the most disappointing piece of officer housing that I could have expected. “A single wide mobile home?”

  “Just for now,” Simon reassures us. “We had to make sure that you were going to join the 52nd before we put through the paperwork to move you guys to an actual house. And yes, you'll have one, that all will be explained later. But for now, you two get to live here. It's got water, heat, and Christina you'll be allowed to drive your car anywhere you want when you're off duty, as long as Ivan is with you. That's part of the security agreement. You're protected by him, and you're also his guard. He's on parole, or whatever you want to call it. Inside, you'll find a cell phone with my number and Ash's number programmed into it. It's your duty phone, keep it with you. In the mean time, I'll let you pull your Honda around back here and get unloaded. I'd recommend an early bed for both of you, training starts at five in the morning tomorrow.”

  Ashley and Simon leave, and I face Ivan, who looks at me with emotion filled eyes, scratching at his hair. “So... this is a surprise for me too. When they said I had to live with someone, I was not expecting this.”

  I nod, toeing at a rock in the dirt. “Ivan, did you ever get my letters?”

  “No, they said that I was not allowed to send or receive mail. I tried sending one letter, but it was dropped back in my cell the very next day. I did...” Ivan starts, before tears slip from his eyes again. “Christina, I'm sorry. For months now, I've only thought of one thing, how much I hurt you. Please, I'm sorry. I beg your forgiveness.”

  I've never seen Ivan this broken up as he sags to his knees, sobbing and putting his head into the dirt of the yard, his hands clasped together. I'm moved to tears again myself, and I kneel down in front of him, taking his hands and lifting his head. “Ivan... I forgive you. I forgave you months ago, and to be able to tell you that is the greatest gift I've ever gotten.”

  “Me too. Christina... I know you said you love me, and I said the same. Sorry, I will have to teach you Russian it seems. But can we ever go back to the way we were?”

  I shake my head, but keep hold of his hands. “Ivan, you lied to me. We can't change that. You broke the trust that was between us, and while I still love you, it's going to be a long time, maybe never, before that trust is rebuilt. We're going to need to start at square one. So it can't be the same.”

  Ivan nods, and looks into my eyes. “Christina, I will do whatever it is you think is needed to restore that trust between us. I told Simon I am a man without a country. And that's true. You're my country now, Christina.”

  I stroke
Ivan's handsome face, touched. Still, I wasn't lying, I don't trust him again yet. Not after his lies about who he was. “I know. And I do still love you, Ivan. All the silencing by the Corps, the hell of my Firstie year, nothing changed the way I feel about you. So I hope we can rebuild that trust. It can't be the same as it was before, but there's a chance that it can be something better. For now though, let's unpack my Honda, and see what the sleeping arrangements are in the mobile home.”

  Ivan nods, and smiles. “As long as there is hope that I can earn back your trust, then I will be happy. You're right, let's see what our quarters is like. It's got to be better than where I've spent the past few months. And maybe, while we unpack, you can fill me in on the exciting details of what it was like your last year.”

  “I won five Brigade Open swimming titles, and set the pool record for the 200 IM. That's a start. We'll get the other details later.”

  Chapter 18

  Ivan

  After three weeks in the mobile home, I'm not sure if I spoke too soon about it being better than my cell at Leavenworth. With Christina not trusting me yet, I've slept on the couch, which is not very comfortable. The cushions are lumpy, and it's just a little too short for me to stretch out fully without either my feet or my head hanging off one end of it.

  Right now though, I'm focused on one thing, forensic accounting. I'm looking at an Excel spreadsheet, much like any of a hundred others. Except for one thing, this spreadsheet is from a scam that the 52nd busted, and right now my job is to figure out how.

  “This is crazy,” I mutter, rubbing at my temples. I'm physically exhausted, the daily five in the morning wakeups in order to do training are draining me. Ashley and Simon alternate days, six days a week, not that Sundays are reserved for sleeping in and casual brunches so far, just that there is no early morning PT. “I don't know anything about this program.”

  “It's basic maintenance accounting, Ivan. You're smart, smart enough to pull off that spy job for two years and some change,” Ashley says from the front of the classroom. “Look for something that just doesn't make any damn sense. Then cross check it with another file.”

  I sigh and nod. This is just one of the ways that our training is different. Ashley and Simon, they don't ever let up on us. I thought I was in good shape, the close to two months that they had me living with them at their house along with their twin children gave me plenty of time to exercise, but Simon's putting me to shame half the time, especially any time our exercise is out in the woods surrounding the Annex. I swear he gets extra energy from the smell of the pine trees.

  But unlike anything that happened at USMA, our training is individualized. Ashley and Simon push Christina, but they never talk down to her or call her a failure like I saw too many times at West Point. Each time Christina has failed, they review, they point out everything she missed or did wrong, but then they also encourage her, and give her hints on how to do it better.

  With me, a lot of my training so far has focused on finding out exactly what I do and do not know. For two plus years, I hid my knowledge from the American authorities, letting them think I was just a low-level exchange cadet. It's been refreshing to be able to discuss and explain things from my perspective with Simon, who has used the opportunity to practice his Russian too.

  Still, they are pushing me, and my frustration is mounting. Looking at this list of facts and figures, the words not even in English but in military accounting jargon, my temper flares. What the hell is ‘F/O EXP?’ How the hell am I supposed to know if the price of a ‘MTLS FSTNR TYPE 4 DRVR’ is correct or not? Meanwhile, Ashley just sits there at her desk, watching me the whole time, her green eyes inscrutable. I know she's evaluating me though, and I'm failing.

  In frustration, I slam the lid closed on the laptop and get up, grabbing my water bottle. Ashley sets her cup of tea down and speaks up. “Where are you going?”

  “Outside,” I growl, leaving the rest of my things behind. I exit the classroom and go out the back, clearing my head in the early fall sunshine. The trees look inviting, I could just disappear into them, the Annex borders a large state forest that I could melt into without a problem. Not that I want to run away, but an afternoon off to clear my head would be nice.

  I hear boots scraping in the dirt behind me and I turn, seeing Ashley approaching. After that first day of seeing her in ACUs she hasn't appeared in full uniform since, although she still prefers to wear combat boots with some sort of outdoor pants because of how rural this area is. “You okay?”

  I turn away, crossing my arms over my chest and huffing. “I'm fine. I just need to gather my wits.”

  Ashley hums, then shakes her head. “You know Ivan, clearing your head is fine. But I need you to focus on clearing your head without making a scene. One of the key parts of our mission is to not make a scene.”

  “I think I already know how to do that,” I shoot back hotly. “Or do you think it is easy being an undercover spy at West Point for two years? I could have kept it up too, the Academy had no fucking clue what I was doing.”

  “You were undercover Ivan, but you weren't quiet about it,” she retorts, keeping her calm. “I'm not saying it's easy, and I'm not saying you don't have the skills, but Ivan, think about it. The missions that the 52nd does, it's not just going to one unit and going deep cover. You can't let off steam on a mission by beating a man half to death like you did Mike Hernandez. You need to be the man who goes in, is totally unnoticeable until the final moments, and then only to the people that we want to notice us, and then go out, only to repeat the whole damn process in another unit, another location, another time. The Army is pretty tight knit for an organization that has over a million people. If some big giant Russian sounding guy keeps showing up and beating the fuck outta people before disappearing without a trace, people are going to start asking questions, and your worth to us goes way, way down.”

  “What did you bring me out of Leavenworth for then?” I ask, turning. “I already have your husband's assurances that I will not be used against Russia. And I doubt you need a poster boy for recruiting. I don't even know who the rest of the 52nd is. I just know my first paycheck actually hit the bank the other day, you were true to your word there.”

  “A good question, and one you deserve the answer to. Ivan, the 52nd needs agents who can blend in. Normally, that has been officers. But there's a problem with that. Simon is semi-famous, his face was in the news for quite a while.”

  “His capture and escape from North Korea. I remembered a little, although I forgot most of it. It took me a while, but I Google searched him. You made the papers too, you know.”

  Ashley nods knowingly. “Which presents a problem. I'm a West Pointer, Simon's a Pointer, and while Christina is a Pointer too, she's one of the invisible types. The advantage that you and Christina have, Ivan, is that you're both younger than us. Pretty soon, I can't pretend to be a know-nothing enlisted person, or some junior lieutenant. I look like a Captain now, and I don't have enough specialized MOS experience to pull off being a mid level NCO, except in a few areas. Simon's the same, and with that face of his, he's memorable. You two, on the other hand, you both are young. Ivan, you technically never even graduated, and Christina's got a baby face. Hell, I take you guys to a club, and you tell me she's eighteen, I'd believe it. You tell me she's twenty four and I want to check her ID. You're not quite that fresh faced, but you look like a guy about twenty to twenty two. And while you're handsome and built like a brick shithouse, I'll give you that, it's not the sort of handsome that can't be disguised or forgotten.”

  “I guess having a forgettable face is an advantage,” I fume, and Ashley laughs. “What?”

  “Ivan, you're hardly forgettable. But it's your actions and your demeanor that makes you that way. Nobody who was in Christl Arena the night you beat the hell outta Mike Hernandez will ever forget that. And nobody who swam against Christina when she took her five medals is ever going to forget that either. But that's what I have to train y
ou guys to not be. Christina's easy, she's naturally nice and sort of idealistic, while still being smart as hell when she gets past her insecurity. You’re a bit harder. You hide your fear and insecurity behind a porcupine shield of arrogance and giant sign on your forehead that says 'fuck off,' and people remember that. Helping you is going to be different from helping her. What I need you to do Ivan is work on restraining your frustration and your anger, and to learn how to be a calm little river.”

  “Calm little river? I'm six three, two hundred and twenty five pounds, Ashley. I'm nobody's calm little river.”

  “And there's your challenge, Ivan. If it helps, remember that in this unit, you're not going to be operating alone. You're going to have a partner. That is what Christina is. You help each other, but there will be times you're going to, at least in the short term, do things alone. For that, I need you to work on being calm. Like this challenge. The answer is there, but instead of using all your brain, you're getting frustrated. The lesson is, don't be. Be the boxer you are. You have problems fighting an opponent one way, what do you do? Quit?”

  “No. You change tactics, you change strategies,” I reply, seeing her point. “But you can't get frustrated.”

  Ashley nods. “Exactly. Now, ding, ding. Let's see how the next round goes, okay?”

  It's my turn to cook dinner tonight, Christina and I alternate days in order to share the duties around the mobile home. I’m feeling better, the afternoon session with the laptop was more productive, the problem becoming clear once I let go of my frustration and went with my instinct. I went with my instincts with dinner too, a quick Stroganoff made with ground beef instead of strips, and a cream of mushroom soup base. I think it came off well.

  “What do you think?” I ask, trying my best to use my new 'American' accent that Simon and Ashley want me to learn. That I can at least understand, having a Russian accent is not helpful for my new life.