Then the old American warrior bent and whispered something in Putin’s ear. Volodya nodded carefully, excused himself from the table, and walked with Kissinger past the maitre d’ and into the sunshine. Hawke could see them through the window, walking arm in arm through the tall pines, deep in conversation.
“Stefan,” Hawke said, leaning toward Halter and in a voice low enough not to be overheard, “I shall never be able to repay you. I knew you took a chance, telling me the Kremlin rumors.”
“I haven’t heard a thing. You’re still alive, thank God.”
“They are alive,” Hawke said, his eyes glistening with gratitude.
Halter had a difficult time maintaining composure.
“Alive. So it was true.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t tell me you managed to get them out.”
“Just my son.”
“Oh, Alex, how utterly marvelous.”
“You’ve no idea. His name is Alexei. Three years old.”
“And Anastasia?”
“Wouldn’t leave. Out of fear and-commitment. She married Kuragin out of gratitude. I was angry of course, at first. But in hindsight I can see the sense of it. I’ve forgiven her and-”
“She thought you were dead, Alex.”
“She did. And she felt great compassion for-here comes our host. To be continued.”
“W ell, Alex,” Putin said, taking his seat and a sip of his vodka, “I’m fairly certain you didn’t request this meeting because you’ve finally decided to take me up on my offer. But don’t worry, there’s no deadline. I’m sure one fine day you’ll come to your senses.”
Hawke smiled at the two Russians. “I’m sure you two gentlemen know why I’m here, Volodya.”
“That fucking submarine. It’s why I invited Stefanovich to fly down from Moscow this morning and join us. He’s been looking into the damn mess for me personally.”
Hawke said, “What in the hell really happened? This was a blatant provocation that has put the world in an extremely delicate situation. As you well know, American military has gone to DEFCON 3 readiness for war. MI6 is not buying the ‘accident’ story, nor is CIA. Nor, frankly, am I. One torpedo, possibly, but two? For the life of me, unless this commander went rogue or simply insane, I am mystified.”
“As am I, Alex,” Putin said. “First of all, I will save you the embarrassment of asking a stupid question. No, the Kremlin had no foreknowledge of this action, nor did anyone in my government have the slightest hand in this tragedy.”
“Thank you. That’s very helpful.”
Halter added, “The Nevskiy ’s captain, Lyachin, is currently in Moscow. KGB officers are interrogating him. As you know, they do not share the West’s delicate sensibilities when it comes to extracting information from enemies of the state.”
“So,” Hawke said, “what does this Lyachin have to say for himself? How can he possibly exculpate himself from responsibility?”
“He’s far more worried about how to exculpate himself from a firing squad, believe me.”
“His explanation, then?”
“It is so ludicrous as to defy belief. I hesitate to even tell you lest you think my top military commanders are all taking hallucinogens. But this is his story and he isn’t budging. By the way, he made sure the crew got their stories straight. Every single officer and crewman aboard that sub swears the captain is telling the truth.”
“And that is?”
“Explain it, Stefanovich. I can’t stand to hear myself repeat it one more time.”
“The Nevskiy was in the midst of a typical firing drill. The cruise ship happened to be chosen as a phony target of opportunity, simply because she was there. It was to be a dry fire exercise, period. And then, in the middle of the drill, the entire submarine, according to Lyachin, was taken over by some mysterious ‘force.’ That’s the exact word he used. ‘Force.’ All controls, including helm, diving planes, ballast controls, and, most unfortunately, her weapons systems, were wrested from the hands of the captain and crew.”
“Impossible.”
“I know.”
“By whom? Does he say?”
“Lyachin suspects it was SSN 75, the U.S. submarine Texas. She was shadowing him at the time.”
“Volodya, this, this ‘force’ or whatever it is, is pure science fiction. He’s a madman covering up for incompetence, trying to save his ass.”
“Are you sure about that, Alex? Are you sure America possesses no such technology?”
“If they did, I would know about it. And I don’t. Besides, Volodya, why the hell would an American sub driver manipulate a Russian sub into sinking an American cruise ship? Talk about stretching credibility.”
“Ach. Nothing makes sense. It’s a fucking nightmare. There will be a court-martial; he will be found guilty of murdering innocent people and shot. At least that will have some symbolic value for those governments abroad who doubt my own government’s innocence in this matter.”
“Yes,” Hawke said, electing to keep his thoughts about rights to a fair trial to himself. It was not the time for morality or human rights debates with ex-KGB heads of state.
“Alex, will you at least convey my own deep personal regrets and your belief that the Kremlin had absolutely no knowledge nor involvement in this massacre?”
“I will do, Volodya. Because I look into your eyes and I believe you. Something exceedingly strange happened aboard Nevskiy; we just don’t know what. Volodya, I ask something in return.”
“Anything, my old comrade.”
“Comrade is stretching it, but I’ll let it pass. Before you have him shot, I would like to have some time alone with this Captain Lyachin. I will need to travel to Moscow in secrecy and under your personal protection, of course.”
“I see no reason why this is not possible. What do you think you can get out of him that my men cannot?”
“Perhaps nothing. I want to hear more about the American submarine’s actions. At the bare minimum, I will be able to tell you if I believe Lyachin is telling the truth. If he is, I will immediately contact my old friend Brick Kelly, director of the CIA. I will inform him of my strong belief that Russia is completely innocent of malicious intent in the sinking. He will then call President McCloskey, easing tensions between Russia and America considerably.”
“Yes, I see your point. A good one, and I would be deeply in your debt. I will arrange it. But I want you to look me straight in the eyes right now and tell me that American submarines do not possess some advanced technology we are not aware of.”
“Volodya, I swear to you that, to my knowledge, they do not. If they did, I wouldn’t tell you. But they don’t.”
“That’s done, then. Let’s enjoy our sweets. I will arrange for my private aircraft to fly you to the Domodedovo field in Moscow in the morning. You will be accompanied at all times by discreet but heavy security. You will interview him privately at Lubyanka Prison. With a translator, of course.”
“Of course, an interpreter,” Hawke said, thinking, translation of “translator”: spy. “Speaking of security, at some point I want to address the death threats made against my son, Alexei. Two KGB officers boarded the train we took out of Siberia.”
“Yes, I am aware of that.”
“How?”
“Their frozen bodies were found on the tracks. I had them flown to Moscow for autopsies. They were definitely not KGB, Alex. I’m the one who saved your son in Lubyanka, remember?”
“Who, then?”
“Now I will tell you a secret. There exists inside Russia an extremely powerful group called the Tsarist Society. A unique organization run, at the top, by some of the most powerful men in Russia. At the bottom, ex-KGB assassins, fired for various offenses, extreme alcoholism or wanton murder, for example. Also, former OMON death squad killers, and Mafiya bully boys. They are very clever and well organized. This is the organization that wants you and your son dead. You killed their Tsar. They want to extract maximum revenge.”