“You’re a Chekist, Gleb.” The appellation of which Gleb had been so proud now returned to haunt him. “You gave an oath and swore to be loyal to this country to the very end. You wore the epaulets. And now the country demands this sacrifice for the common good and stability. Did you think that serving the Motherland only meant going to receptions at the Kremlin Palace? No, Gleb, your brother officers serve under much worse circumstances than you. Besides, I’m not demanding anything extraordinary. Yes, your reputation will be ruined, and you can forget about a political career, but these are small things. In no time you will be free and rich. And we will get our revenge. I give my word as an officer that we’ll track down young Illarionov, even in the States. We have reliable and capable people to do this from one of the East European countries. They never lived in Russia, so there can be no connection to you or us. You’ll just have to be a little patient.”
“No, I won’t be patient.” Gleb couldn’t hold back the words as his emotions exploded. “I didn’t serve the country for so many years for this — to have my life ruined because your people couldn’t take care of a twenty-something kid. If the omnipresent CIA magically appeared from somewhere, no one from your great organization was capable of stopping them. I’ll never take the blame for everybody, Nikolay Davydovich. Never! Of course, I would never mention Himself,” he raised a finger toward the ceiling. “But if they come after me, if they resort to an arrest, I’ll name every high-ranking general that was in charge of the operation — the whole bunch, right to the top.”
He was panting with rage now. “Don’t you understand how much I’ve accomplished, how much more I could do? I’m better at this than anyone else. I’m not a simple functionary to my people. I’m their god! They would follow me through fire and water. I can do whatever I like with them — send them to fight in the Donbas or kill liberals in courtyards. Only I can do this. Explain that upstairs. Find someone else, some decrepit colonel who’s outlived his usefulness and put it all on his head.”
“You were named in the article,” intoned the general. “A new Cold War already has begun. The West wants blood — your blood. I’m sorry it turned out this way.”
“I won’t do it. I won’t take the blame for everything. I’m no mere pawn to be sacrificed. When I took that job I was promised protection. If they come after me, I swear I’ll name everybody.”
He turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
The old general spoke sadly to the empty room. “I’m sorry, Gleb, very sorry. You’ve understood nothing I taught you. It’s a shame things have come to this, but you leave me no choice, my boy. I hope you know that I spoke truthfully when I promised to avenge you…”
The telephone receiver felt like a heavy weight when he lifted it.
Chapter 54
They were all there, gathered around the conference table in Enoch Whitehall’s office. Krystal Murphy, Nick Ferguson, Bob Strachey, and the President’s National Security Advisor Duane Claiborne. Whitehall had provided formal non-disclosure agreements for Krystal and Strachey to sign. These agreements, known as NDA’s, were de rigeur for employees of Washington’s three letter agencies. Everyone in the room but she and Strachey had up to date NDA’s. Their purpose was to bind them to strict secrecy, and to violate them was a criminal offense.
The formalities complete, Whitehall said, “We are part of an exceedingly small group who know the truth behind the Clarendon Metro outrage. Although Mr. Strachey currently holds no official government position, his knowledge of the truth is why he is here.
“The drama that took place in Shenandoah County and everything that led up to it are well-documented, thanks to the fine work of Krystal and Nick in debriefing Olga Polyanskaya. It was not an easy interview for either side, but the young lady finally realized that she had no choice other than to cooperate. As you know, Polyanskaya will be placed in the witness protection program and relocated within the United States under a new identity. She is under severe psychological strain, and we’ll see that she gets the proper help. The U.S. Marshals Service will keep a close eye on her.
“Our forensic specialists discovered ample evidence in the Shenandoah farmhouse that the two deceased men were involved in the Metro bombing, including traces of explosive and bomb-making materials. This makes it possible for us to inform the public that the Metro investigation has been concluded and that the attack was the work of renegade Chechen Islamists, much like the Boston Marathon tragedy.”
Krystal wasn’t sure she had heard correctly, and her look of consternation caught Whitehall’s attention. He continued, “The concept of ‘need to know’ is new to some of you, but it is an important part of national security. Despite what the media think, there are some things best kept secret, and at times it is better to hide the truth from the public. This is such an instance. Yes, Polyanskaya related her experience, both in Russia and here in Washington with the FSB. The account of her conversation with Valeriy Eduardovich Karpov was chilling and laid responsibility for the bombing directly on the Kremlin’s doorstep. But in reality, her testimony is secondhand, what would be called ‘hearsay’ in a court of law. Given Karpov’s diplomatic immunity, the certainty that Moscow would never divest him of it, and the deaths of the two perpetrators, there is nothing we could legally do. But the important thing to keep in mind is that if word that Moscow was behind the bombing were to be made public, it would amount to a casus belli, and the Administration would find itself in a ticklish situation.”
Whitehall turned to Claiborne for confirmation.
“We have the means to let the Kremlin know that we are aware of what really happened,” said the White House advisor. “It’s a club we can hold over their heads. We’ll also be expelling Karpov and refusing to permit the Russians to replace him. Given that he oversaw a debacle, we suspect that Karpov will not be received kindly at home. If he should ask for asylum here, we will see that he is carried kicking and screaming on board a Russian flight to Moscow. We have no use for him.”
The atmosphere was more rarified than anything Krystal had ever experienced. This was how the real business of Washington was done, and she wasn’t sure she ever wanted another glimpse. Her black and white world abhorred gray, and this was as gray as it gets. Across the table from her Whitehall was grayness personified. How many more dark secrets did he hold?
Ethan Holmes called Vlad Illarionov to another meeting at the Washington Post. The reporter was smiling broadly. “Vlad, I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but the White House called the editor this morning and praised your piece on the Moscow bombings. Given the Administration’s efforts to make peace with the Kremlin, this is somewhat surprising. The National Security Advisor himself told us that the White House would very much like to see a string of similar stories about the situation in Russia. We’d like to give that assignment to you.”
Vlad was at a loss. “But I’m only here on a temporary visa. I’m not allowed to have a real job…”
Holmes was still smiling. “That’s the other thing I don’t understand, but it appears you have a friend somewhere in high places. They said that if you asked, you would be granted political asylum immediately.”