Part 23 (1/2)

Two different sounds of sirens started growing louder. Ambulance and cops. ”Mike, go wait for them. I'll take over. And Mike! Call Scott!” Novak took off.

Adler kept a hand on the battle dressing. ”Help's here, Skipper. Hang in there.”

As he waited, Adler started worrying, and not just about Grant. Two dead men, one with multiple bullet holes in him, all fired from his and Novak's weapons. Overkill? Maybe. But not in Adler's mind, not when the b.a.s.t.a.r.d had a .357 pointed at his friend's head, who was unconscious. One saving grace was that forensics would determine the caliber bullet that killed Henley was from the Magnum. Eventually, the cops would get their answers.

”And then there's the President,” he said under his breath. ”It just keeps getting better and better.”

Chapter 19.

Russian Emba.s.sy 0830 Hours A small double charcoal burner, called a ”samovar,” was on a credenza behind the desk. A teapot warmed on one, with a very concentrated infusion of tea, while the other pot held plain hot water. Vazov poured tea into a traditional tulip-shaped gla.s.s then diluted it slightly with hot water.

”Misha?” he asked, offering tea to Zelesky, who declined.

A knock at the door. ”Enter,” Vazov said, barely speaking loud enough. The sound of opera music was playing in the background.

Kalinin opened the door, surprised to see Zelesky sitting in front of the amba.s.sador's desk. He closed the door.

”Nicolai, you are looking better this morning,” Vazov commented.

Kalinin stood by a chair, until Vazov motioned for him to sit. ”I feel better, sir. And thank you for the new clothes.”

Vazov eyed the black slacks and white pullover sweater, saying, ”Comrade Yudin made good choices.” Kalinin nodded. ”Tea, Nicolai?” Kalinin declined, then Vazov said, ”I thought you might be interested in what happened early this morning. Misha was just about to tell me.”

”Does it have to do with the American traitor?”

”Indeed it has to do with him. Misha, begin.”

Zelesky began his story, from when he followed Henley after leaving the envelope by the trestle, to the actual shootout at Henley's house.

Vazov and Kalinin remained quiet, until Kalinin finally asked, ”Did you see anybody come out of the house, Comrade Zelesky--dead or alive?”

”Someone was loaded into an ambulance. I can only a.s.sume it was Stevens, because two men walked near the gurney until he was loaded inside, then they ran off, possibly to a vehicle.

”By the time the medical examiner showed up, neighbors were crowded around, more police arrived, and I believe one or two reporters. I remained in the car, and it was somewhat difficult to see, but I believe two body bags were carried out.”

Kalinin s.h.i.+fted his eyes back to Vazov. ”Has there been any report on television?”

”Yes. It was reported that a home invasion left two dead and one injured.” Vazov picked up a sheet of paper where he'd made notes. ”The two dead men were identified as Jack Henley and Fred Easton, who both worked for the Department of Defense.” He dropped the paper on the desk. ”The injured man was still not identified.”

Zelesky commented, ”The Americans are just as devious as KGB when it comes to imaginative stories.”

”I have asked Comrade Yudin to bring the newspapers as soon as they are delivered,” Vazov said, ”but it is probably still too soon for there to be any published article.”

Kalinin stood. ”I will go see if any have arrived.” He left the office. Riding in the elevator, he could only wonder if he made the call in time. One injured, two dead. Whatever the outcome, he had done his best, and what he thought was the right decision at the time.

The elevator lurched to a stop, and he rushed off, walking toward the front desk. ”Comrade Yudin! I see the newspapers have arrived. I will take them to the amba.s.sador.” He started to walk away, then turned. ”Thank you for buying the clothes, Comrade.” She smiled then sat down behind her desk.

He got in the elevator, let the doors close automatically, then pressed the b.u.t.ton. He quickly scanned the front page of three of the five papers, reading the top half, then flipped them over and read the bottom. But he didn't see anything about the incident. He got off the elevator, and looked at the last two papers. Still nothing. But the amba.s.sador was probably correct in saying it was too early.

”Put the papers here,” Vazov said, pointing to the corner of his desk. ”We will look at them later. He sipped his hot tea, before saying, ”Well, Nicolai, it looks as if Stevens survived the a.s.sa.s.sination attempt.”

”It appears to be the case.”

Zelesky picked up a folder. ”Comrade, do you believe it was Stevens who led those teams on the s.h.i.+p and at Shannon?”

Kalinin kept his eyes straight ahead, watching Vazov. ”It was very possible, Comrade Zelesky. As I told the amba.s.sador, the men were very efficient, very organized, the same way Captain Ivanov described their actions.”

Zelesky handed the photo to Kalinin, then walked behind his chair. ”Can you identify that man, Comrade?”

Kalinin briefly looked at the photo, then handed it back to Zelesky. ”The men at Shannon wore black masks the entire time.”

”Even during the long flight to the U.S.?”

”Not entirely. But the interior lights on the plane were kept low. I was made to sit at the rear of the plane, and they usually kept their backs to me.” Kalinin stood, and moved the chair aside. Keeping his eyes on Zelesky, he asked Vazov, ”Mr. Amba.s.sador, would it be possible to speak with you. . . alone, sir?”

Vazov motioned with a hand. ”Leave us, Misha.”

Zelesky kept his eyes locked on Kalinin's, until he heard Vazov again. ”Leave us.”

Once the two men were alone, Kalinin stood in front of the desk. ”Mr. Amba.s.sador, Comrade Zelesky seemed to imply that I am withholding information, that I am being deceptive. . .”

Vazov interrupted. ”That is his job, Nicolai. He is KGB. You do not yet fully understand the inner workings of that organization.”

”That is true, sir, but. . .”

”Do not let it concern you. Now, is there anything else?”

”I apologize for disappointing you and our comrades in Russia.”

”I would be lying if I said we were not disappointed. I am waiting for Defense Minister Troski to contact me.” Vazov stood and turned toward the credenza, refres.h.i.+ng his tea. ”If you are directed to Moscow, Nicolai, it will not be for punishment. Moscow wants you to explain in your own words how you prepared your mission and possibly why it went wrong.” He sat down, then looked over the top of his gla.s.s. ”Do you know why it went wrong?”

”Because of an experienced, intelligent team of men, sir.”

Vazov gave an almost indiscernible smile. ”But how did they learn of your plan?”

”I think we must look again at the traitor. While he never knew directly what was planned, he could have notified the Americans--anonymously, of course. That should have put the NSA, CIA, and FBI on alert, and any other 'alphabet' agency the Americans have. They may have intercepted one or more of our transmissions.” He cleared his throat. ”That is my opinion.”

”I will tell you, Nicolai, that I never trusted him. I still believe he was a double agent, in a loose sense of the word.” A knock at the door. ”Enter.”

The communications corporal walked in, barely acknowledging Kalinin, then pa.s.sed a sheet of paper to Vazov. He immediately left the office.

Vazov read the message, then held it toward Kalinin. ”It is from the defense minister.”

Grant's Apartment Monday - Day 7 1330 Hours Grant unlocked the apartment door, and swung it open, with Alder following him. He flipped on a wall switch, then turned on an overhead light. As he tossed his key on a small side table, he caught his reflection in the mirror hanging above it. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were bloodshot, he still hadn't gotten all his color back. He leaned closer, touching the bandage near his left temple, then he turned his head. ”Well, at least they match,” he said under his breath, referring to another scar.