Chapter Five

With the doctors still patching up people, Newkirk began to explain in whispers to each of the wounded exactly what was happening. "Don't let on you understand anythin' of what we're sayin', mates," instructed the Englishman to each. This would be vital to the mission. He hoped that a helicopter would be procured soon to deal with the more seriously wounded. However, they also needed to ensure that there were no queries about why the Americans had not yet arrived - he didn't know yet they weren't expected for two weeks. It was just as well that he planned to go out and clip the phone wires, however. The KGB could always call to check on Burlunkin.

When LeBeau noticed Burlunkin stomping back to the guest quarters, he signaled Newkirk. The Englishman pulled a half-full bottle of vodka and three glasses out of the Heroes' bag of equipment. Then, he grabbed a couple pills to dissolve in a drink. He would be intrigued to see just how well he could get Burlunkin to drink. He would have be the strong, very silent type. "'Ow did you do this, before you poured?"

"Usually after, they dissolve right away," noted the Frenchman, carefully avoiding seeing the blood on the doctors' smocks. Luckily, Pierce and Hunnicutt were almost through with their patchup work and would soon be removing those. "The colonel knew you would be better at giving shots, just in case he doesn't go for the drink, though I can do the drink."

"I don't know 'ow the 'strong, silent type' is supposed to convince a KGB man to take a shot." He contemplated upon reaching the door that "I'd play a much better drunk in some pub. Or whatever they're called in Russia." LeBeau and Newkirk left.

Wandering over to the guest quarters, Newkirk adopted a solemn, downcast look. LeBeau was slightly more upbeat, but he was, after all, the 'bartender." "Comrade Burlunkin," came the mellow tone. Burlunkin said something with 'da' in it. We're on the right track, thought the Britisher. "Pyotr Newkirski, Ivan Leboski," he remarked, making introductions.

Burlunkin asked something in Russian as LeBeau took the bag and got out the vodka and glasses. Newkirk pretended to be pre-occupied by the post-op room several buildings away. Staring out the window, he gave a small nod which might or might not have been in reference to an answer to Burlunkin's query - if it had been a query. "Capitalist swine," Newkirk muttered under his breath, just loud enough to be heard by the KGB man. LeBeau poured the drinks, and snuck the mickey in while Burlunkin gazed at Newkirk, who appeared to be a street bum relaxing somewhere.

LeBeau handed a glass to Newkirk, who took it lazily. He sat his own beside him, and handed the altered drink to Burlunkin. "Comrade," he spoke, urging the man to take the drink. As Newkirk put it up to his lips, Burlunkin reluctantly agreed. These must be some of our men here - there had been tapes of American conversations sent by the Koreans. This must be a group of the men who inspected them. He could understand why they wished to drink with a fellow Russian, and so he took the glass.

"Comrade Stalin," came the cheerful toast as LeBeau lifted his glass high in the air. Newkirk followed slowly, his actions making Burlinkin wonder if he was not already a little drunk. Perhaps this Colonel Hoo is thinking of this man when he thinks I will take too much vodka, mused he as he took his glass and raised it, saying something Newkirk and LeBeau couldn't comprehend. It had sounded like it had "Stalin" and "capitalist" in it. Probably drinking to the defeat of the U.N., the Allies pondered.

Newkirk and LeBeau raised the drinks to their lips but did not drink. Burlunkin drank his, and quickly fell asleep. After they had both checked to ensure he was dozing, LeBeau began to whisper something. Newkirk motioned him outside, lest the area be bugged. It didn't matter if they were seen; at this point, Hogan could convince the Koreans they had shared a couple drinks, then left at a sensible time, while Burlunkin chose to get very drunk. The fact the bottle was half empty led to this. They had poured their drinks near where Burlunkin spilled his upon keeling over, to make it look like less was there. While they knew a doctor could examine Burlunkin and discover he was drugged, why would this happen?

Newkirk and LeBeau arrived back in post-op at the same time Hogan did. They explained what they'd done, and Hogan congratulated them. "Good work, you're right," Hogan remarked. "They probably will figure you just went in for one drink."

"They won't smell any alcohol on his breath," Hawkeye noted.

Hogan nodded. "Right, that's why I want you two to go over and check him out in about fifteen minutes." He smirked. "You knew I couldn't bring you here just to work on our men."

"I'd be honored, General," remarked BJ.

"What should we do - pour it down his throat? What if he chokes?" The query was Hawkeye's.

Hogan shook his head. "No need to do that, that's getting a bit too fancy." Just like my men would ad lib it, he mused. "Just spread some of the vodka on his clothes, and use the spritzer." He smiled, remembering a time he'd fooled Klink and Burkhalter into not checking to see if it was really him on a bed because the stench was so bad. "I think you'll figure out how best to do that, just make sure the air really reeks around him, but don't overdo it."

Hawkeye grinned a devilish grin. "Reminds me of some frat party tricks in medical school. By the way, there's this baby..."

Hogan really impressed him with his next statement. "All taken care of, though Burlunkin doesn't know about it. You'd be able to take him in our chopper or truck; though we're actually going to send him with the first Americans and say a Russian sub picked him up with a couple of our men; a call from my man Kinch will confirm this. After that, Newkirk, cut that wire." He nodded. Hogan would leave in a couple minutes and ask to speak on a phone in private - for a top secret mission, so secret he couldn't risk any "Russian" being understood. He'd ring Kinch's number and tell him to have one of their Russian speakers call from somewhere and instruct them that way.

Pierce was becoming more and more impressed with Hogan's style of play. He thinks of everything, considered the man as he and BJ prepared to leave. Turning to BJ as they departed, Hawkeye asked for help. "I might want to re-enlist to do undercover work if this keeps up."

"Just taste the food, that'll keep you away," reassured the other captain.

Hawkeye and BJ wandered over to the guest quarters where Burlunkin lay. "Look at him, sleeping like a baby."

"Let's give him some nightmares," suggested Pierce as he spritzed the room.

"Phew," came BJ as he waved his hand and winced. "Can't you do that after you spray it on his clothes?"

"Sorry, it has to feel authentic." Pierce thought a minute. "Now that I've sprayed it, we know his mouth, pores, and clothing should reek this much after a certain number of hours; how long till he wakes up, Beej?"

Hunnicutt studied the Russian. "From the looks of him, I'd say six hours; he only had a big gulp of vodka, from what LeBeau tells me. Not the whole glass."

"Okay, figure this will dissipate in...three or four hours. Better spray some more."

BJ got up to stop him. "Hold it with the germ warfare, will ya, I didn't bring my gas mask." He poured some vodka on his clothes. "Let's get him untidied up first." Good thing Hogan helped make sure nobody saw us come in, noted the American.

Hawkeye nodded as he walked over to the window. "Actually, Hogan said something about one of us watching out here, didn't he?"

"True. Almost done with the fine details." BJ was wrinkling the man collar. He grunted as he pulled the KGB agent up and sent a little vodka down his throat. "He might gag a little, but so much the better. And yet he isn't choking, I made sure of that."

BJ got up to observe the window. "You may fire when ready," he informed Hawkeye as the medic returned to spritzing the room. He sprayed Burlunkin a little more, when BJ announced abruptly "someone coming."

Hawkeye quickly hid the squirt bottle in one of Burlunkin's bags as BJ bent down beside the prostrate man. Pierce was making his way to a kneeling position when the Korean sergeant appeared. BJ noticed him out of the corner of his eye and began smacking his lips.

Hawkeye didn't know how much English this man might have picked up serving in a military unit where Americans were held. From speaking to the patients he could tell not very much could be understood, but without Hogan there to comfort him he became a little frightened. However, he hid it well as the Korean uttered something he couldn't understand. From the contortioned face he could tell it was probably something along the lines of "it stinks in here."

"Da," Pierce remarked solemnly, nodding. "Drunk." Feeling happy the sergeant seemed not to understand, Pierce decided it was safe to talk. He would Russify to be safe, though. "Majorski Burlunkin got drunkinski. Verski drunkinski."

The Korean looked quite confused as BJ lowered his head and shook it, trying not to laugh. "Drung...kinski?"

Regaining his composure, BJ mimed the pouring of drinks. "Da, drunkinski," he emphasized, mimicking the very rapid gulping down of half a dozen drinks. He pretended to stagger to his feet, took a step, and fell face down. "Drung-kin-ski."

A light bulb seemed to flash on above the Korean's head. Grinning broadly, he proclaimed "ah, drunkinski."

"Da, da, drunkinski," Pierce and BJ exclaimed, as the sergeant proudly repeated "drunkinski" over and over, as a small child excited at learning a new word. At that moment, Hogan entered to barracks. "The Russian doctors have taught me a new word - 'drunkinski,'" came the excited Korean sergeant.

Hogan was about to tell him it was a swear word and not to say it anymore, but the other Koreans wouldn't know what he was talking about. Even if Burlunkin then heard and thought it sounded American, one of the pilots could always be told to say he taught them the word. Hence, he let it go, deadpanning "yes, Major Burlunkin is obviously very drunkinski." He ordered the sergeant "do not reveal this for a while, let him sleep it off till it stops reeking in here."

The sergeant nodded and prepared to leave, then remembered something. "The helicopter to pick up the most injured men will be here shortly, Doctors Piersinski..."

"They don't know Korean," Hogan explained, remaining in his Korean voice. "Tell me - you say it is on its way. I placed a call to a Captain Kinchkin regarding a child, did he call back?"

"Yes, his headquarters called and said to take the child to a sub."

"I will have one of my men do that." Newkirk would be going out purportedly to take the child to the sub. In actuality, he would be sneaking around to cut the phone lines in and out of camp to prevent Burlunkin's people from calling for a while - or vice versa. "You are dismissed." With a quick salute, the sergeant departed. "Good work, guys, he bought it; he said the chopper's coming for the Americans, the baby will go with them. As for the baby, he'll go with the Americans, but we'll make like Newkirk's going to take him to the sub when he goes out to cut the wires around suppertime."

"Great...wait a minute," came the suddenly concerned Pierce, "how'd he know we were here? Nobody saw us come."

"Well, I had to spread the word you had gone to check on Burlunkin in case he was getting drunk."

"Wait a minute - you told him?" BJ was nonplussed. "Why?"

"Didn't you think we could get in trouble," wondered Hawkeye.

"I have my spies, too, they knew that guy was something of a simpleton. And yet, he was the best man to spread this kind of rumor around. I was right behind him in case something went wrong, I could have rescued you. But I wanted you telling him, so I told him the major might be getting drunk." He smiled. "Or should I say he was getting drunkinski."

"That was all his fault," alibied BJ.

Hawkeye shook his head. "Only because you couldn't think of anything better."

"Actually, it was pretty good," admitted the general. "Now we just have to get these people off and the baby to South Korea - and I doubt our army will let him come as a refugee, but from what I hear, Schultz can always adopt him." He snickered. Actually, he wouldn't be surprised to see Carter getting in touch with an adoption agency and asking to be put in touch with a Korean orphanage, either. He'd grown to recognize how to handle someone like that.

The soldiers and the child got off quite easily that evening. When Burlunkin awoke he had a hangover, and was quite shocked to learn he'd been out for eight hours and it was well past midnight. He didn't know whether or not to report to Colonel Ying, but in his smelly condition, he decided a quick change of clothes would be the most important thing to obtain. Hogan had gotten some sleep, too, his body still accustomed to sleeping and waking on a moments' notice, or to remaining awake 24 hours or more if he had to. Therefore, while the others were all asleep in the post-op room, Hogan tapped a couple messages into the radio, then waited for Burlunkin to rise. He went to check on him once, and noticed him just moving around a little.

Half an hour later, he noticed the KGB man preparing to leave his quarters. Hogan chose to intercept him; why not rattle him a little more? He would speak in Russian this time. "Good morning, Comrade Burlunkin." The KGB man was slightly angry, but knew that greeting was a far cry from "Vlad." "How's the head?"

The Russian turned as if to speak to Hogan, then swiveled back and continued on his pace. "I do not want to talk about it." He knew what it would look like, but could swear he'd had only one drink. Three or four, perhaps he could have forgotten past that. But one? No, he knew he'd only had one.

"Hey, I understand, it's a shock to see someone drunk, too, I told my doctors to check on you personally, then to not report it, in case the word spread. I hope it hasn't already." Hogan put an arm on Burlunkin. "Anytime you want to talk about what's troubling you, I'm right here."

Brushing him off, Burlunkin snapped "just get me to a phone!" He wanted to phone headquarters and straighten out some things. Hogan meandered back to the post-op room, noticing the major stomping back to his barracks a moment later. "Phones not working," he inquired sweetly.

The major stared, then turned and hollered "bah!", muttering some unintelligible insult about Koreans, before Hogan could use his line about someone in the KGB being out to get the major. But, that could wait till later. It would still be quite tricky, but the first leg of their mission was complete.

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