"Mikhail," Sokoloff said, directing his eyes to Antolov, "do you believe this?"
"There is no reason for me to doubt anything Comrade Kalinin has said, sir. And if you listen to the recording you will understand even more. What Sergeant Baskov says on that tape should assure you it is not a lie. Such a story could not be made up, sir. No one would have anything to gain by lying."
Sokoloff stood, then took the recorder from Kalinin. As he turned it on, he slowly walked to the window. There he'd stay until the recorder shut off.
Kalinin went closer to Zykov. Whatever happened next was completely in the hands of Minister Sokoloff.
They heard the click of the recorder, and Sokoloff's heavy sigh. He turned, then let his eyes go to each man, before settling on Antolov. "Mikhail, this is almost unbelievable."
"I know, sir, but what are we to do now? Do you wish to interview Sergeant Baskov yourself?"
Sokoloff shook his head. "There is no need." He motioned Kalinin and Zykov to him. "If the files were 'cleaned,' tell me again how you managed to figure all this out!"
Without hesitation, Kalinin went through the whole scenario of how he pieced the puzzle together. "Baskov confirmed everything, sir." Taking a breath when he finished, all he could do was wait.
Sokoloff pointed at the two men. "You two wait outside."
The two agents left immediately, then walked farther away from the security guard. Kalinin fell back against the wall, brushing his hands over his head. "Jesus, Oleg!"
Zykov took short steps, back and forth, in front of him. "What will happen to us, Nicolai, if they decide to toss everything, to pretend we did not uncover the truth?! What will they do — and to us?!"
Kalinin grabbed Zykov by the jacket lapels and spun him around, pushing him against the wall. The loud noise made the security guard take a step toward them, before he decided to stay out of what appeared to be only an argument.
Kalinin's voice was a low, gruff whisper. "I told you before! We did everything by the book! We went by what Baskov told us! And we found those sonofabitches! We had proof. If they do nothing, Oleg, then they have to live with it, knowing all the while the Premier is guilty."
Zykov's eyes narrowed, as he pushed Kalinin away. "We had better hope they believe us!"
Kalinin knew his partner was right. If this whole situation turned to fucking shit, what the hell would they do? Antolov seemed to believe them. If he hadn't, he never would have gone to Sokoloff. That was a confidence builder. But if Gorshevsky didn't admit his guilt, what would be the KGB's next move with the overwhelming evidence they now had?
Suddenly, the door swung open. Antolov and Sokoloff walked into the hallway, with Antolov motioning the agents closer. "It has been decided. We must confront the Premier now. It is only right that he be given the opportunity to prove his innocence. Do both of you understand?"
"Yes, sir, we do." But inwardly Kalinin thought,Do we have any choice?!
Sokoloff knocked on the Premier's door, then the four men entered. Gorshevsky had his back to them, sitting at the desk, writing a short speech he planned on giving in front of the embassy ruins. A list of employee victims was printed across the top of the page.
"Premier Gorshevsky," Sokoloff called softly. "We must speak with you, sir."
Gorshevsky swiveled around on the chair, resting his arm on the backrest, with the pen dangling between his fingers. Seeing two unfamiliar men standing by the door, he rose slowly, then flipped the pen onto the desk. "What is it, Vasily?"
"Sir, some intelligence has come to light concerning Reznikov and his men."
"Just tell me they have been found!"
"Their hideout was discovered. The three men are dead, sir."
Gorshevsky's relief was obvious. He pounded a fist against his palm. "This is great news! Tell me. How did those bastards die?"
"The hideout was loaded with explosives, and something set them off. The entire building was destroyed. They were buried under the rubble."
"So, they died the same way our comrades died in the embassy."
"It appears to be the case, Comrade."
"This should be a time for celebrating, Vasily, Mikhail!" He finally noticed the expression on the men's faces. They weren't happy. He stepped closer. "There is something you have not told me."
Antolov began the interrogation cautiously. "Comrade Premier, sir, do you know Sergeant Baskov?"
"Baskov? Oh, he was the driver for Comrade Komarov. Is he still in hospital?"
"He is, sir, but my question was, do you know him?"
Gorshevsky was growing suspicious. He shoved his hands into his pockets, then leaned forward. "What are you intimating, Mikhail?" Before Antolov replied, Gorshevsky turned his head, staring at the two agents by the door. He whipped a hand out of his pocket, pointing continuously at the two. "Who the hell are they?!"
Antolov kept his eyes on the Premier. "They are my agents who have been working the investigation, sir. They found Reznikov. And they interviewed Sergeant Baskov in hospital."
Gorshevsky glared at Kalinin and Zykov, who stood tall, returning the Premier's stare.
"Comrade," Antolov called, "you still have not answered my question! Do you know Baskov?!"
Gorshevsky remained quiet, but his mind was spinning. How was this possible? How …?
"Sir, I would like you to listen to this," Antolov said, holding the recorder in his hand.
Gorshevsky lowered his eyes, seeing the small black recording device. "And just what am I supposed to hear, Director Antolov?!"
Antolov held the recorder closer to Gorshevsky. "Listen, sir."
Yanking the recorder from Antolov's palm, Gorshevsky walked toward the desk, then started the recording.
Kalinin sensed something was about to happen. He tried to be inconspicuous as he reached inside his jacket, feeling his weapon secured inside the horizontal shoulder holster. He slowly withdrew his hand, then unbuttoned his jacket.
With a sudden move, Gorshevsky swung around, holding the recorder in the air. "This is bullshit! Bullshit!" This bastard has accused me of … of …!" He threw the recorder on the floor, stomped on it, then ground it with his heel.
Taking deep breaths, trying to bring himself under control, he slowly stepped close to the agents, poking a finger into Kalinin's chest, and then Zykov's. "Which of you recorded that filth!?"
"I did, sir!" Zykov answered with as much conviction as he could muster.
Gorshevsky continued staring hard at the men, then spun around and went directly to Antolov. "Mikhail, you cannot believe what I am being accused of!"
Antolov said, "I am waiting for you to answer that question, sir."
Gorshevsky felt his powers slipping away, but he refused to answer. He turned his back on everyone, pointing down at the smashed recorder. "You no longer have that supposed proof, and what was probably coerced from that lying, bastard sergeant."
When he faced the four men again, his eyes went wide, catching sight of Kalinin holding a recorder with his left hand. Kalinin spoke. "I interrogated Sergeant Baskov before Agent Zykov, Comrade Gorshevsky. There was no difference in what he told both of us. To me that meant he was telling the truth, sir. It was you who gave Baskov the code name 'Yermak.'" Without taking his eyes from the Premier, Kalinin said, "Comrade Antolov, I can answer your question. There is no doubt that Premier Gorshevsky knows Sergeant Baskov, sir."
Gorshevsky slowly backed up. He wanted a drink, he needed a drink to calm himself down, to allow him to think clearer, to deny the accusation. But instead, he started withdrawing his hand from his pocket.
Kalinin's hand was already on his weapon, when the PSM pistol came into view. Kalinin shouted, "NO!" As quickly as Gorshevsky raised the gun, Kalinin's reaction was quicker. He fired a split second before Gorshevsky pulled the trigger. The sound exploded within the confines of the room.