Part 25 (1/2)
”He was nearly shot by a 'comrade,' Mr. President. That had to give him something to think about, something to question, along with the 'connection' I mentioned the other day.”
”You know, gentlemen, everybody, and I mean everybody, was looking for that Russian.”
”Agent Mullins notified us the Russian plane departed Dulles yesterday, and . . .”
”Kalinin was...o...b..ard. Yes, I know, Grant.”
Silence again, until Carr said, ”I'm sure you heard that the other Russian plane had been located in the North Sea, along with the black box.”
”We have.”
”I've contacted the Russian premier and offered America's condolences.”
”I hope they find answers soon.”
”Is there anything else you gentlemen need to add--or want to add?”
Grant looked at Adler, who gave a slight shake of his head. Grant responded, ”No, sir.”
Carr stood, immediately followed by the two men. The meeting was over.
Carr offered a hand to Adler. ”Joe, thanks for your help in finding those weapons, and finding your buddy.”
”Mr. President.”
Carr then extended his left hand to Grant. ”Take care of that arm.”
”I will, sir.”
”Oh, by the way. Have your sniper--'Mike' is it?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Have him report to Indian Head next week. I've arranged for him to do some of his own testing with one of those prototypes.”
”Be happy to! Does he get to keep it?”
Carr smiled. ”We'll see, Grant.”
”I'll guarantee that weapon will never fall into the wrong hands, Mr. President.”
”One final word, gentlemen. You both need to lose that guilt you're carrying around for Mrs. Henley.”
”We'll work on it, sir,” Grant answered, then turned to leave.
Adler opened the door, and took a step into the outer office, when he heard Grant call quietly, ”Joe, wait up.”
He saw the expression on Grant's face. Shaking his head slowly, he whispered, ”No. Don't do it.”
Grant kept his eyes locked on Adler's, and without replying, he closed the door. No matter what the outcome, he knew he couldn't live with himself unless he cleared up the facts.
Carr stood by his desk, watching Grant, waiting, when the intercom buzzed. ”Yes, Rachel.”
”Mr. President, there's . . .”
”Give me a few minutes, Rachel.”
”All right, Mr. President.”
Carr switched off the intercom, then looked at Grant, who was still by the door. ”Grant?”
Grant exhaled a long breath, then turned and walked to the desk, standing in front of Carr. ”Mr. President, I have a feeling you know what happened, how Nick got to the emba.s.sy. It was my decision, mine alone, and I take full responsibility for my actions.”
”Why, Grant? Why the h.e.l.l did you do it?”
Grant rubbed a hand across his forehead. ”I. . . I just had a feeling in me. Something told me I had to.”
”That gut of yours?”
”Maybe, but maybe there was more to it.”
Carr looked at Grant through narrowing eyes. He'd seen the pictures of Kalinin. Suddenly, a thought registered, a thought almost too hard to comprehend. ”Grant, you don't seriously believe Kalinin's . . .”
”I thought I'd shaken the idea, but apparently not. And it wasn't just our appearance. We seemed to think alike, too.”
”But. . . how in the h.e.l.l could it even be possible?!”
”My dad was stationed in Europe.”
Carr turned away, then walked behind his desk, a.n.a.lyzing an explanation he never expected. ”And did you discuss this with Kalinin?”
”Negative, sir.”
Glancing down at an open folder, Carr finally asked, ”It was Kalinin that called Joe, wasn't it?”
”I believe Joe when he said the caller didn't identify himself as 'Nick.'”
”I believe him, too, Grant. But what name did he use?”
”'James Broyce.' He called himself 'James Broyce.'”
Carr gave somewhat of a smile. ”So, Joe only gave me part of the truth then.”
”Not really, sir. Neither one of us knew his American name.”
Carr picked up a paper and handed it to Grant. ”Take a look at this.”