The 14th Colony: A Novel (29 page)

Small talk did not interest him. “Why have you been waiting for me?”

“I miss the old days. Do you miss them?”

He told himself that this man was no amateur. Instead, he’d been successfully embedded deep within Western society, which required a measure of patience and skill. Of the three, he’d always known this one would be the greatest challenge. “The old days are why I am here.”

“I thought you were dead,” Kelly said. “Nearly everyone else is gone. It saddens me to think about them. We did some great things, Aleksandr.”

“Do you live here alone?”

Kelly nodded. “It is my one regret. I never married. Too risky. There were lots of girls, most not smart or pretty, but willing. Momentary diversions. But I’m a bit old for that now. How about you? Did you find someone?”

“My wife died,” he said, keeping Anya to himself.

“It’s not good, for either of us, to have no one. I spend most of my time reading.”

“Why do you live in Canada?”

“I visited here once many years ago and decided that if I survived and wasn’t shot or jailed, that this would be where I would retire. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you? No way to know when or if they’ll come for you. No way to know who compromised or gave you up. They just appear, with guns and badges, and then you disappear. Amazingly, that hasn’t happened to me. But I have to say, to hear your knock a few minutes ago sent a chill through me. It’s a bit late for visitors.”

“You live well,” he said, motioning to the air of affluence the room projected.

And what he’d not said hung in the air.

Like a capitalist.

“When the Soviet Union disappeared, I thought it time for me to blend totally into the West.”

“You could have come back home.”

“To what? Nothing I knew existed anymore.”

On that they agreed. “So you became the enemy?”

Kelly smiled. “I wish it were that simple, Aleksandr. To everyone around me I was an American, so I simply kept playing the part.”

“You were sent to spy.”

Kelly shrugged. “That was my original mission, and the position at the university in DC gave me access to a lot of people. I knew an assistant to the chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, another at the Rand Corporation, a friend worked at the Brookings Institute, and I had many colleagues in the State Department. I was the perfect mole, the last person you’d ever suspect as a spy. I did my job, until my job mattered no longer.”

Time to get to the point. “Fool’s Mate. Did you complete it?”

“And if I did, are you here to kill me, too?” Kelly’s right hand slipped behind his back, beneath an untucked shirt, then reappeared holding a revolver. “You don’t think I would answer the door this late at night and not be armed. I assure you, comrade, I will not be as easy as the other two.”

Zorin sat still and tried to arrange his impressions into some sort of judgment. This had to go right. “How did you know?”

“Because I’m a trained officer of the KGB, just like you,” Kelly said in Russian. “I pay attention.”

Only here, within the confines of this home, shrouded in the lateness of the hour and a cold darkness outside, would either of them speak in their native tongue. But it seemed fitting, so he kept to it and declared, “I’m not here to kill you.”

“Then what?”

“I want to complete what Andropov intended. That plan has remained dormant far too long.”

“My orders were explicit. I was not to report anything, except to Andropov himself.”

“My orders indicated that you were to report to me.”

Kelly chuckled. “I would assume that was for your detriment.”

Then he realized. Once he’d reported the success of Absolute Pin and Backward Pawn, he would have been eliminated.

Leaving only Kelly and Andropov.

With the bombs.

“I reported the second kill,” he said. “But no one by then knew what I was talking about.”

“Because Andropov was gone, and it didn’t matter to anyone else. Surely, comrade, you can see that all of that is long past.” Kelly’s voice drifted off, as though weary of jousting at lost theories and forgotten ideals. “Nothing you and I ever knew still exists. In fact, all that may be left is you and I. We are probably the only people left on this planet who even know what Fool’s Mate entails.”

“I’ve waited a long time to pay the West back,” he said. “They destroyed us, and I’ve searched hard for a way to extract some measure of retribution. Until yesterday, I did not know if you were still alive. So I have come a long way to enlist your help. You have the method and I can provide the means. Together, we can implement Fool’s Mate.”

Kelly was listening, that much was clear.

So he asked, “Do you remember what Andropov said that night, at the end, in the safe house?”

Kelly nodded. “Every word.”

So did he.

“I want you to know, comrades, that what we are about to accomplish will strike America at its core. They think themselves so right, so perfect. But they have flaws. I’ve discovered two of those, and together, at the right time, we will teach America a lesson. Minimum effort, maximum effect. That’s what we want, and that is precisely what you will deliver. This will be the most important operation we have ever undertaken. So, comrades, we must be ready when the moment comes.”

“That moment has come,” he said. “I don’t know it all, but I know enough.”

Kelly stayed silent, but lowered the gun.

A gesture of trust?

“You realize that it may no longer be possible,” Kelly said.

He kept his optimism in check, but made clear, “It’s a chance I’m willing to take. Are you?”

*   *   *

Cassiopeia had listened carefully, noticing the shift from English to Russian. The tone of the two men changed also, from cautious to conspiratorial. She’d also risked a look and saw as Kelly lowered a gun he’d been aiming at Zorin. She now realized that Cotton had assigned her the listening duties on the off chance that these two would revert to Russian.

Always thinking.

That was another thing she loved about him.

“I’ve been ready for more than twenty years,” Kelly said. “I’ve done my duty.”

“Then, comrade, tell me what I need to know.”

*   *   *

Malone kept one eye on Cassiopeia in the bushes near the house and the other on the street. He stood in the front lawn. His exhales hung before him in the cold air. Zorin certainly would not expect that he was being watched, and definitely not by the same American agent he’d last seen cuffed to an iron pipe in his basement. Their paths to this Canadian house had taken two totally different courses. Five suitcase-sized nuclear devices secreted away somewhere on American soil? He couldn’t imagine how such a thing could have escaped detection but, unfortunately, border security in the 1980s and 1990s was nothing like today. Governments were not watching with the same intensity that the war of terrorism had taught was necessary. He’d reported all that he knew to the White House, so he assumed things were happening on Stephanie’s end. But the quickest route to those hidden nukes seemed to be inside Jamie Kelly’s house.

He checked his watch.

Friday had come and gone.

It was now early Saturday morning, Canadian time.

He heard a noise and turned to see a car creeping down the dark street. No headlights cut a swath of light. That was never a good thing. He was hidden behind the trunk of a sturdy oak, its width and girth signaling age. The ground just behind him sloped gently away from the house, toward the river, with more trees between here and there.

The car eased to a stop just short of Kelly’s driveway, right behind Zorin’s truck.

Four dark silhouettes emerged.

Each carried a short-barreled, automatic rifle.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

W
ASHINGTON
, DC

Stephanie led the way into the Oval Office, Luke close on her heels. Danny had told them to come straight here from Annapolis, sleep would have to wait. Inside she spotted the president and his chief of staff, along with one other visitor.

Nikolai Osin.

“Close the door,” Danny said to Luke.

She noticed how the office had changed, the walls bare in places, the array of photographs and memorabilia that Danny liked to scatter everywhere all gone. Thirty-seven hours from now his time behind the Resolute desk would end and a new president would assume power, a man who would decorate the Oval Office to suit his own taste.

“Kind of depressing, isn’t it?” Danny said, noticing her scan of the room.

“It’s what makes this country great,” she said.

Where other nations struggled with transitions of power, here it happened seamlessly. The Constitution originally provided that a president would be elected in November and assume office the following March 4. Eventually, those ensuing four months proved a problem. Seven states seceded during the time between Buchanan’s exit and Lincoln’s arrival. The Great Depression deepened waiting for Roosevelt to take control from Hoover. A lame-duck president, right or wrong, came to be perceived as no more than a default leader, his opinion irrelevant—while the incoming president suffered from not yet being legally empowered to do anything.

The 20th Amendment changed all that, ending a president’s term precisely at noon on January 20. Acts of Congress followed that required the incoming president be provided a full transition team, access to all government services, training for new personnel, and funding to handle any and all costs. She knew what would happen at 12:01
P.M
. Sunday, just after President Warner Scott Fox took the oath. Files and records that had not already been removed would immediately be purged. Access codes and passwords would change. New faces would flood into the White House and immediately assume their duties. Even the archives of speeches, press briefings, announcements, and videos concerning the past eight years of the Daniels administration would vanish from the White House’s official website. By 12:05 the transition would be complete, without government ever losing a beat.

“That’s the thing about us,” Danny said. “So civilized. But it’s still damn depressing. And I told my people, no pranks.”

It had become commonplace for the old to leave a few surprises for the new. The most famous was when the Clinton people removed W’s from keyboards before the younger George Bush took the oath.

She sat on a settee with Luke, facing Osin and Edwin Davis. Danny filled a high-backed Tennessee rocker. How many times had she been here? Too many to count. How many crises? More than her share.

And this could be her last.

“You do realize that I no longer carry a security clearance,” she said. “I’m officially a civilian.”

“And Edwin’s looking for a job, Osin may get killed, Luke there, on Monday, has to go to work for somebody else, and I’m a lame duck. We all got our problems.”

She caught his meaning and said, “What’s going on, Nikolai?”

“There’s a division within my government. It’s been there for some time, but what’s happening at the moment seems to have provided some acceleration.”

She listened as he told her how he’d been initially instructed to involve the United States in looking for the archivist Vadim Belchenko. The order had come straight from the Kremlin.

“It was thought that, by involving you, it would be clear that we have no part in what Zorin might be doing. The people who issued that order wanted America to know this had nothing to do with Russia. Most likely, whatever Zorin is after doesn’t even exist any longer, so there was deemed no harm in bringing you into the process. You would find Belchenko, stop Zorin, and all at our request.”

“A way to show us you’re to be trusted?” Luke asked.

Osin nodded. “Precisely. But there is another faction inside the Kremlin who did not agree with this course.”

“The problem is,” Danny said, “that what Zorin is after could damn well still be out there.”

“And that other faction,” Osin said, “wants what may be out there for themselves.”

Earlier in the day, in the car, Osin had told her some of this. And Edwin had been coy the two times they’d talked on the phone since. That she could understand, not wanting to broadcast anything over an open cell line. But here, in one of the safest places on earth, she had to know. So she looked Osin’s way and asked, “Tell me
exactly
what it is that’s still out there.”

“Five portable nuclear devices, planted by the KGB in the 1980s. The final part of an operation called Fool’s Mate. These could still be operational.”

Nothing about that sounded good.

“That division within my government,” Osin said. “The main faction controls much of the SVR and the high military command. They are not progressives, or communists, but something worse. They have little allegiance to anything except what furthers their own personal goals. They live well within the new Russia. Once they learned of Fool’s Mate and that it may still be active, they ordered your two agents gone. Then they ordered Zorin’s plane be shot down. But your Mr. Malone interfered with that when he allowed Zorin to escape.”

“Cotton and Cassiopeia are now on Prince Edward Island,” Danny said. “Dealing with Zorin. I told them to bird-dog him. Give him space, but see where he’s headed. We checked, the old KGB contact Zorin is looking for lives there. A damn sleeper spy who worked right here in this town for years, undetected.”

“The problem now,” Osin said, “is that my side of this internal struggle no longer controls things. The others have it, and there is no predicting what they might do. They see what Zorin is doing as advantageous to them, in some perverse way.”

“What exactly is Fool’s Mate?” she asked.

“I truly don’t know. But whatever it entails, it’s enough to attract an immense amount of attention.”

“The bad thing,” Danny said, “is they don’t seem to need Zorin anymore, as evidenced by the kill order. That means they think they know enough. But we need him.”

“It could be,” Osin said, “that this man Kelly is the key. He alone might know the bombs’ location. So far, I have no indication that anyone in Moscow has that information.”