Выбрать главу

“You sound like Will Rogers.”

“Who?” Ellen sighed.

“Bonnie, we need to talk more,” Ellen said grinning.

CHAPTER THREE

“President Deniken, may I have a word with you?”

“Certainly, Vasily, come in and join me for tea.”

“Thank you,” Vasily Boronovitch said as he sat down and poured himself a cup. Vasily was an aide to the Russian President, his press secretary and domestic advisor. The Russian president had fewer people attending, because there was less of a need and it was harder to find people to trust in Russia. That may seem like a comment born of American jingoism but it was simply the fact and President Deniken or any Russian president would be the first to echo agreement.

“Are we ready for this thing?”

“I hope so, sir.”

“Security?”

“Heavy, we have sixteen agents.”

“That’s all; Zhadonov won’t be happy. Vladimir Zhadonov was head of security for President Deniken.

“He’s never happy.”

“No, he’s not,” Sergei said and laughed.

“That’s all that was allowed.”

“It’ll have to do. I can see the need to pare back so it doesn’t look like we’re scared of violence. The American Secret Service isn’t happy about the number either.”

“Should we be doing this in an area that is largely pro-Russian?”

“Would you rather we do it in a pro-western area?”

“Well, to be frank, sir, yes I would.” Sergei nodded agreement.

“Yes, I suppose we should admit that the west can control their people better than we control ours.”

“Melenkov wanted to come along and sit next to you.” Sergei shook his head and grinned. Viktor Melenkov was an opposition leader who trumpeted the extreme pro-Russian stance that included nearly all of what Kulagin wanted.

“Big surprise.”

“He wants your job, sir.”

“I know, they all do.”

“He’s dangerous, sir. If something happens to you, I don’t know if Berelenov can handle him.” Vladimir Berelenov was the prime minister and second in line of succession in Russia. He was a good man but kind of weak willed and easily bullied.

“Yes, he’s dangerous and so is Kulagin and his band of idiots.”

“We should arrest them both until the meeting is over and the treaty is signed,” Vasily suggested.

“That’s what they’d do if either one was in my chair. Remember they are both Stalinists.”

“Yes, and I know it’d send the wrong message but they’d like to see you dead sir.”

“So, would my wife sometimes.”

“Sir, I’m serious.”

“I know, Vasily, but we’ll have to do things by the law and hope for the best.”

“I’d take a bullet for you, sir, anytime.”

“Don’t, I’ll just duck instead.”

“Yes, sir.” They finished the day’s work together and a few times during the afternoon when he was busy Sergei would stop and think about what Vasily had said about taking a bullet and he’d shake his head and sigh. Had it come to that in Russia? Did he have a target on his back? Yes, sadly that was true.

* * *

“How many?”

“Two,” Victor Melenkov answered. He was meeting with a man clandestinely in a small coffee house in Volgograd complete with sunglasses, trench coats and hats pulled over their eyes. Great spy stuff right out of a James Bond novel but they felt it necessary and it worked.

“Is that enough?”

“Yes, I have good people and they’ll take out the Russian security people in the car.”

“And the American Secret Service?”

“Your guys will have to do that.”

“Good enough, they can.”

“Transportation is all set?”

“Yes, everything is ready, stop acting like a frightened school girl,” Kulagin said.

“Look, if this backfires, I’ll go to the gallows and so will you.”

“I know that. Risks are part of anything worth doing.”

“I’ll be in Moscow in Deniken’s office awaiting your word that he’s dead.”

“I thought you were going with him to Kerch?”

“I made a play for it but luckily he said no so now I have an excuse to be in Moscow.”

“Well done,” Kulagin said.

“What if we aren’t successful?”

“I have plans for that eventuality.”

“And, we wouldn’t survive under those plans I am guessing,” Melenkov posed.

“Then for our sakes let’s hope we’re successful,” Andrei said and his confederate walked out of the building.

* * *

“Trent, I don’t like our reduced numbers,” Johnny Rodriguez said as they sat in Trent’s office discussing security on the upcoming trip to Kerch.

“I hate it. We’re vulnerable, Johnny, and I don’t feel good about it at all.

“It’s going to be a dickens with a large crowd. The building is small.”

“I know but things are set. We don’t make the rules.”

“What about Wheaton?”

“What about him?”

“He’s kind of pushy.” Val Wheaton was a new guy just transferred over from the FBI and he was full of himself. We know how to do things in the FBI and you losers in the Secret Service are just lap dogs. That sort of mentality.

“Maybe but he does a good job. You agree with that don’t you?”

“Oh, sure, he’s grade A but the other guys aren’t crazy about him.”

“Jealous, are they?”

“A little I suppose,” Johnny said.

“Why?”

“He’s a suck up.” Trent laughed.

“Yeah, I guess he is but, in this town, you need to be a suck up. When Lyndon Johnson was Senate majority leader, he told a young senator that if he wanted to be successful in Washington he’d need to learn to suck up and suck up good.”

“I take it the young Senator was…”

“Yes, John Kennedy.”

“And, a few years later Kennedy was President and Johnson Vice-President, Kennedy was Johnson’s boss.”

“Right and who knows maybe someday Wheaton will be your boss,” Trent said laughing.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Okay, now here is the lineup for the plane, departure and arrival. We’ll work on the landing and the meeting on the plane.”

“Sounds good. I hope we’re ready since we leave in three days.”

“Me too, Johnny, me too.”

* * *

“Where are we Deke?” General Walter Zumwalt asked as he came into the main room of North American Air Defense NORAD located underground at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex in Colorado.

“A bogie, sir, another computer glitch.”

“Damn, I’d like to stop those. I’d hate to go to war over a ghost missile.”

“Makes two of us, sir.”

“Where’d it happen?”

“Over Alaska, sir.”

“Again?”

“Yes, sir, and we just replaced that unit six weeks ago.”

“Get a team up there.”

“I already sent them, sir.”

“Good job, Deke.”

“General Zumwalt, sir,” Barbara Alton said as she walked from her terminal to the General’s. His was elevated so he could get a good look at everything.

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“We’re picking up Russian sub movement.”

“Where?”

“In the Mediterranean.”

“Those guys are flexing their muscles coming up on the meeting in Kerch,” General Zumwalt remarked with a grin.

“Also, in the South Atlantic, sir.”

“Well, that’s odd. Any reason that you can think of that they might be doing that. Have they been stagnant the past few days?”