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A sense of accomplishment.
Finally.
He extended his hand for Kelly to shake. “Together, we shall do this for the motherland.”
They clasped each other in a tight grip. Comrades, both seemingly glad that it would end this way.
“Eat your food,” he said to Kelly. “I must make one call.” He found his knapsack and retrieved the phone. “It will only take a moment, and I’ll step outside.”
He stood from the booth and caught sight of a wall clock behind the counter.
7:50 A.M.
4 hours left.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
Stephanie found the hospital in Manassas, Virginia, using a car supplied by the White House. On learning about Luke she’d called Danny, who’d urged her to head that way immediately. At arrival she’d met Sue Begyn and learned that Luke had suffered a concussion and bronchial trauma from severe smoke inhalation. He was unconscious, his lungs being cleansed with oxygen. Thankfully, no burns. He’d dived beneath a heavy bed, which had collapsed, protecting him long enough for Sue to get him out. Apparently, the woman had risked her life to make the rescue. Amazing, until Stephanie discovered she was a Riverine.
Stephanie stood beside Luke’s bed and stared down at the younger Daniels. He’d been a good hire, urged onto her by his uncle, but he’d proved himself with exemplary performance. Even Cotton spoke highly of him. The doctor had told her he should be fine, but he’d be out of commission for a few days. What she had to know was what he was doing back at the house in the first place.
Sue had been called to her father’s room. During the escape the older man had suffered a severe asthmatic attack, and was now in a semi-coma, but he should come out of it. Luckily, paramedics and the county fire department had arrived at the scene in time, quickly transporting both men straight to the hospital. She hadn’t pressed Sue, seeing she was upset over her father, and she’d wanted to check on Luke.
But time was running out.
Noon was coming fast.
A description and license plate of the government car stolen in Virginia had been provided to all police within fifty miles of DC. Traffic camera footage was being studied on the off chance that the vehicle might appear. But she knew that kind of luck happened only on television. So many people were in town. Too many cars. And there were hundreds of cameras and even more hours of footage that would have to be reviewed.
The Secret Service had control of the weapons cache, but no sign of any RA-115s had been detected. Even worse, they had no idea what Zorin looked like. No photos existed of him in U.S. data banks and the Russians had not been willing to offer one, assuming they even possessed a current image. The man had not been a player in a long time. But Cotton and Cassiopeia could recognize him on sight. Kelly, too, had proven difficult since they knew little to nothing about him. No current American passport, or a Canadian driver’s license, was held under the Kelly name. Not unusual, as this man had been trained to be invisible. Canadian authorities had interviewed his neighbors and employer, finding no current photographs of him. Apparently, he was camera-shy.
The door opened and Sue entered Luke’s room.
“How’s your dad?”
“He’s going to be okay. But he’ll be here a few days.”
“I have to know what happened.”
“Three men attacked the house with incendiary grenades. I managed to escape out a window. I heard some shots from inside. The firemen told me they found a body, so Luke must have taken one of them out. I shot the other two outside. We got my dad out, but he had an attack. Luke stayed inside.”
“You know why?”
Sue shook her head. “I wasn’t where my dad and Luke went. I was on guard outside the bedroom. They were after the Tallmadge journal, but I have no idea what they found, if anything.”
Yet Luke had risked his life to stay inside a burning house.
A phone rang.
Not hers.
Petrova’s.
Which sent a chill down her spine.
“Could you wait outside a minute?” she asked.
As Sue left she found the phone in her pocket, which she’d been carrying ever since Luke had retrieved it from Petrova’s destroyed car.
“Anya,” a male voice said when she answered.
“No, Comrade Zorin, this is not Anya.”
Silence.
“My name is Stephanie Nelle. I work for the U.S. Justice Department. We know what you’re doing.”
“I doubt that.”
“Can you be sure? I do have this phone.”
“Where is Anya?”
“She’s dead.”
More silence.
“How did she die?”
“In a car crash, trying to evade us.” She decided to expand her bluff. “We know you’re in DC and that you have a weapon. We now control that cache in Virginia.”
“It’s of no consequence. As you saw, it is empty.”
“Did you take all five with you?”
“Five of what?”
He wasn’t bending, but what had she expected? This was a man who played the game back when there actually was a game.
“You won’t make it to the White House,” she said.
“I’m already there.”
And he was gone.
Call over.
Truth or fiction? Impossible to say. She’d tried her best to rattle him, but he’d kept his cool, even when learning that his lover was dead. But she had no idea how close that relationship had been. And even if it had been something special, a man like Zorin would not have conceded anything.
She glanced down at Luke.
What he knew had just become even more important.
In fact, he was the only lead they had left.
* * *
Zorin stood outside the café, in the cold, trying to keep his composure.
He switched off the phone.
Anya, dead?
He’d not experienced such a sense of loss since his wife died, but now the familiar pang returned to his gut. Anya had willingly taken up his cause, making it her own, becom
ing an active partner. Had they loved each other? That was hard to say since neither one of them ever expressed much emotion. But the relationship had been satisfying. Learning that she lived no more only reinforced what he’d already decided.
This would be his last mission.
The woman on the phone—Stephanie Nelle—owned only bits and pieces. He’d been around long enough to read a bluff. She knew about the RA-115s, but she had no idea if any had been there in that bunker. And she certainly had no idea where he was currently located.
But she did know the target.
The White House.
Unfortunately, it would do her no good.
They would never see him coming.
* * *
Stephanie knew of no way to reestablish contact. Zorin was gone, still loose somewhere, his phone surely off and soon to be destroyed.
“Sue,” she called out.
The younger woman reentered the hospital room.
“There’s no way to talk with your father?”
“He’s going to be out until at least tomorrow. The doctor said he was lucky the smoke didn’t kill him.”
Which narrowed her options.
The monitor beside Luke’s bed continued to bump its green charted line across a video screen, the soft blipping like clockwork. She reached down and pressed the button that would summon someone. Time to throw her weight around. The nurse appeared and she told the woman to find Luke’s doctor. When she was met by resistance a flash of her badge emphasized that it was not a request. Finally, the nurse relented and left the room.
“Tell me all that you know,” she said to Sue. “As you can see, I’m not in the mood for bullshit.”
“Dad told Luke about a journal from the society, written by Benjamin Tallmadge. He said that Charon may have it hidden somewhere in the house. Dad thought he knew where that might be, so we went to check.”
Petrova had been after the same thing, so she now understood why Luke had risked his life. “And you have no idea as to its significance.”
“Dad never spoke of this until the past two days. But he told Luke that a long time ago some Soviet may have got a look at the journal.”
Which Peter Hedlund had also reported.
The doctor entered the room and she told him that she wanted Luke revived.
