Part 25 (2/2)
The report confirmed what Grant had suspected all along: fingerprints on file with the Department of the Navy, a 'Secret' security clearance, a copy of an official Navy ID card for 'James Broyce.'
”You were right on target with your a.s.sumption,” Carr commented.
Grant didn't feel a need to respond and handed the paper to Carr who put it back in the folder. He tapped a finger against it before looking up at Grant's pained expression.
”Mr. President, I apologize, and again, I a.s.sume full responsibility. I'm prepared to accept any punishment you deem fitting.”
Carr came around the desk, stood less than an arm's length away from Grant, then with a low, stern voice, he said the words slowly. ”You aided and abetted a Russian operative, Grant.”
Grant was quiet, and then, ”Yes, sir. I did.” Even though he'd said the same words to himself, hearing them from the President cut into him like a jagged knife.
”Can I just let that go?”
”No, sir. You can't.”
Carr's eyes met Grant's. ”Once again you risked your life, you recovered top secret weapons, you saved a life, and you were instrumental in uncovering two traitors, although probably not in a manner you would have preferred.”
Grant's brow furrowed. He was having difficulty comprehending what Carr was implying. Maybe those d.a.m.n drugs were still in his system!
”I. . . I don't understand, Mr. President.”
”Listen, Grant, in this case, I believe the good definitely outweighed the bad.” He patted Grant's good arm, and offered a smile. ”Relax. I'll delay my decision about Leavenworth for the time being.” Obvious surprise showed on Grant's face, then Carr laughed, ”Bet your gut didn't see that coming!”
”Sure didn't, Mr. President.”
”C'mon. I'll walk you to the door.” Carr had a hand on the doork.n.o.b, but before turning it, he offered a suggestion. ”You know, Grant, there's a way for you to resolve your issue.”
Grant nodded. ”DNA testing.”
”Think about it.”
Grant closed the Oval Office door, seeing Adler pacing in front of the windows. ”Joe, let's go.”
Adler spun around, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. He caught up to Grant. ”No handcuffs?” he asked quietly.
”I'll talk to you outside.” He didn't see Claudia, and a.s.sumed she'd gone to lunch.
On their walk to the car, Grant told Adler the entire conversation he had with the President. Adler unlocked the doors to his Mustang, then peered over the roof at Grant, who was putting on his aviator sungla.s.ses. ”Listen, Skipper, I'll admit you scared the h.e.l.l outta me when you went back in the Oval Office. But, I guess you did the right thing all the way around.”
”Couldn't keep it inside me, Joe.”
Adler understood completely. Time to lighten up the conversation. ”Lunch! What about lunch?!”
”Did you forget Grigori and Alexandra invited us over?”
”Oh, yeah! I'd never pa.s.s a chance to sample Alexandra's cooking! Hey! What say we contact the guys? Maybe we could all head up to the mountains for a couple of days of R&R, you know, the cabins you go to in the Blue Ridge.”
”Sounds good, Joe. We sure as h.e.l.l could use it.”
They got in the car, and Adler asked, ”Wanna invite Scott?”
”Sure. Wonder if he'd want to bring his girlfriend.”
”They'll have to get their own cabin!”
”I'll call Grigori and let him know we're on our way. Then I'll call the guys.”
Adler turned the key in the ignition, then s.h.i.+fted into first, noticing Grant's hand lingering on the phone. The setting of the square jaw, grinding of teeth again. Adler s.h.i.+fted into neutral, and rested his arms on top of the steering wheel. ”Well, what the h.e.l.l are you thinking about? The DNA thing?”
”Yeah.”
”You want my opinion?”
”You'll give it to me anyway, so, sure.”
”Get it done.”
”I'll think about it--seriously.” He looked at his good friend over the top of his sungla.s.ses. ”Aren't you curious what sort of reception Nick might've gotten?”
”Well, sure.”
”He failed his mission, Joe.”
”Yeah, but not for lack of tryin'. You even admitted it was a h.e.l.luva plan.” He closed his eyes as if in thought. ”I can just picture it now.”
”What?”
”The next time the two of you meet up. I'll pay big bucks for tickets to that one!”
”I wouldn't hold my breath! C'mon!” Grant said, as he picked up the phone. ”Let's get the h.e.l.l outta here. I'm hungry!”
Epilogue.
Moscow, Russia.
After four days of near spring-like temperatures, the weather had taken a downturn, dropping well below freezing. Rain overnight left slick patches of ice on roads and sidewalks. Traffic had remained heavy, constant, but by noon, the sun broke through the cloud layer, melting most of the hazardous ice.
He sat in the car with the engine running, continually wiping a gloved hand in a circle against the winds.h.i.+eld, waiting for the defrosters to kick in. An open window wasn't helping much.
Gradually, the fogged winds.h.i.+eld cleared. He backed out of the parking s.p.a.ce, then s.h.i.+fted into first, slowly driving around the circle.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, he noticed the building's yellow facade, mimicking gold bricks. Lubyanka. Headquarters of the KGB, with its notorious prison in the bas.e.m.e.nt.
Where he'd just been, who he'd spoken with, and what was offered to him, left Nicolai Kalinin astounded. Director Mikhail Antolov, at the recommendation of Defense Minister Troski and Amba.s.sador Vazov, told him he was to report in two days for training at the USSR KGB Krasnoznamennyi Inst.i.tute (KI). Upon graduation, he'd take part in countering foreign intelligence services and conduct operational and combat activities. As honored as he was, learning he wouldn't be returning to the U.S. left him disappointed. But he understood the reason. Agencies would be on the lookout for him. . . again.
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