Does unity mean getting together?
Or does it mean being one?
Does it need to be created?
Or does it need to be discovered?
Oh, it is true what people say that it never rains but pours when one is not prepared for it. Fred had arrived on our doorstep that noon, holding in his hand those urgent orders for me to go to Germany to contact Steve, to urge him to query his contacts in Russia about the Russians' reaction to the unfolding financial crisis in the West. The urgency of Fred's order had made my fears even more real to Sylvia and so added to the tragedy of her own situation. She had to deal with the possibility that the financial system might break down while I was out of the country and she was alone, struggling in the hospital undergoing major surgery.
"It is vital for us to know whether the Soviet Government is inclined to hit us when the chips are down," said Fred in an effort to drive the point home. He handed me the envelope. It contained two civilian airline tickets for a Lufthansa flight leaving 7:00 A.M. the next morning. I showed them to Sylvia without comment.
Sylvia started to cry, quietly, bitterly. "This can't be happening," she uttered between a stream of tears. "I'm undergoing the biggest medical procedure in my entire life tomorrow. I need you to be with me at my side. You can't go away, not tomorrow."
I handed the envelope back to Fred. "You heard the verdict," I said. I explained to him the seriousness of the situation and the reason why it was serious. "Send somebody else, please!"
Fred sat down beside Sylvia and shook his head. "I wish I could," he said, "but there is nobody else in the whole wide world that can do this mission. Pete knows the people. They trust him. I wish I had a dozen people like Pete who could take on these kinds of missions. But I only have one. We have to struggle through this together. I can't stop the world. I wish I could."
"I have urgent needs, too," Sylvia replied, "can't you understand this? This is a big medical procedure that will put me under the knife for four hours. I'm scared of what might happen, and now you want to take Pete away from me too, and for what? Can't this be done by phone?"
Fred shook his head. He began to cry, too. He understood both sides, and I understood his, but all this apparent understanding didn't prevent all three of us from crying. We all knew this couldn't be handled by phone.
"The President's advisors have already urged the President to launch a preemptive nuclear strike," said Fred when the tears had subsided. "His advisors are determined to force the President to prevent the Soviets from taking advantage of the financial disintegration in the West. It took all the diplomacy we could muster to persuade the President to hold back until the results are in from this mission. In this war of nerves a single day is critical."
Fred turned to Sylvia, "We've got no options, Pete has to go. If Pete won't go, I don't know what will happen. He has to be on the first commercial flight tomorrow morning. He can't go by special transport, that would tip them off, which might put Pete in danger and spoil the whole mission. That would wreck our last hope."
"Can't we delay the surgical procedure by a day or two?" I interjected.
"That would be like erecting a billboard on Times Square advertising the secret mission," Fred replied.
After a while Sylvia stopped crying. We both packed our bags. Fred stayed around and organized something for dinner, to give us time for one last walk together before the sunset.
The next morning's parting was a sad occasion. Sylvia was half-asleep still when my time came to leave. We kissed and wished each other well with a gentle kiss and a smile. I knew that by the time I would be in the air her surgery would begin. She soon fell asleep again. She didn't have to get up for another half-hour.
