“Would you like to try some single malt?” Chalmers asked. “It’s made just down the road. It’s quite good. It will calm you.”
Chalmers extended the glass. Slowly, Katya sat up. She took the glass, held it beneath her nose, sniffed it, then chugged it down in two large gulps. She held the glass back out to him.
“More,” she whispered very softly.
Chalmers smiled. He returned to the cabinet, poured her another glass, and brought it back.
“There,” he said as he handed it to her.
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”
Chalmers walked to the sofa and sat down. He took a sip.
“I saw you perform,” he said. “Paris.”
“Paris. When was this?”
“Five or six years ago, if memory serves. Coppélia.”
Katya nodded.
“Franz,” she said.
“Franz?”
“My lover.”
“Ah, yes, in the ballet.”
She sipped from her glass.
“Cloud is not a terrorist,” she said. “I know him. He’s a child. He has the heart of a child. A computer geek.”
“And yet he caused the deaths of a boat full of fishermen. He killed American soldiers.”
“No, I don’t believe it. You showed me pictures, but they could be from anywhere.”
“So I’m lying to you? Those men who took you, they did it why?”
“I don’t know. Ask them.”
“I did. You’re engaged to a terrorist.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head back and forth. “No, I don’t believe it.”
“You seem quite sure,” said Chalmers. “Which makes me wonder is there anything that would convince you?”
“No.”
“So if he himself told you he intended to detonate a nuclear device on the U.S., even that wouldn’t convince you?”
Katya stared at Chalmers across the room.
“You see what I’m getting at, don’t you, Katya? People have secrets. They end up doing things that are quite at odds with what we expect. Secrets. Swanilda has secrets. Franz has secrets. Everyone has secrets. Isn’t that right?”
Katya continued to stare at Chalmers.
“I want to ask you a question. Do you like the United States? I assume you’ve performed there, yes?”
Katya nodded.
“I love the United States. I’ve performed there many times. I would say perhaps fifty or sixty times.”
“New York?”
“Yes, of course, but also other places. Do you know what my favorite place is?”
“No, I don’t. Please tell me.”
“Kansas City. It was my first tour, when I was only fifteen years old.”
“So let me ask you a question. How many people do you think would die if a nuclear bomb went off in Kansas City?”
Katya took a sip.
“I don’t know.”
“I do. If the bomb Pyotr acquired were to detonate in Kansas City, at least a hundred thousand people would die. Of course, in New York or Boston, cities that are more likely to be the target, that number would be dramatically higher. You, just to be clear, will be forever known as the girlfriend, the fiancée, actually, of the man who did this. If you truly were unaware, and you’re lucky, you’ll likely spend time in jail, perhaps a decade or so. You’ll never dance again. And, to be quite honest, if you are stubborn during this particular time period, when every second matters, when every minute is a precious commodity, when the plot could have been thwarted, even if you don’t know anything … if you’re stubborn now, my guess is you will not live to reach the age of thirty. The American government, if a bomb goes off, will erase anyone involved.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. It will happen in the jail itself, most likely. They’ll hang you, then report it as suicide. Or it will happen afterward. You’ll be walking down a street somewhere and a car will pull up, and you’ll be dead. It might even happen in the weeks immediately after the bomb goes off. After all, don’t forget that you’re a ghost now. Nobody even knows you’re alive.
“The time for patience, for discussion over a nice glass or two of scotch, that will be gone. You don’t need to know what he’s doing. You don’t need to have been knowledgeable of his activities. But you must help. If you don’t, and that bomb goes off, you’ll die, and far too young. Moscow, Saint Petersburg, London, Kansas City—you’ll never see them again. All for not being willing to simply listen.”
“You’re threatening me.”
“I’m telling you the truth. It’s not a threat. It’s fact. And you would deserve it. I could torture you, Katya, but I don’t want to. I want you to trust me.”
“How can I trust anyone? If what you say is true, the only person I have ever loved is a monster.”
“You’re thinking too much,” said Chalmers. “Right now, your singular objective should be survival. What I’m telling you is that if you want to live, cooperate. Do whatever you can to help.”
“I want to see your evidence.”
“There’s a folder on the shelf behind you. Read it.”
Chalmers leaned back on the sofa. Katya reached for the folder. For the next twenty minutes, as Chalmers sipped his scotch, she read through it.
When she finished, she stood and walked to the cabinet, poured herself another glass. Then, instead of walking back to the bed, Katya sat down next to Chalmers.
“I will help,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
74
ELEKTROSTAL
“There’s something we’re missing,” said Cloud. “I want the Langley transcripts again.”
“From when?”
“Everything from the explosion on.”
“They’ll be on your screen in a few seconds,” said Sascha.
A green icon appeared, indicating the file from Sascha had arrived. Cloud double-clicked it, then read through the transcripts of conversations from the CIA operations room. His eyes ripped left right with astonishing speed.
“There it is,” he said to himself, seething. “I knew it.”
706
remember johnnys wounded
707
he has a bullet in his leg
708
how bad is it
709
he has a fever and hasnt left the bedroom
“How could I have been so sloppy?” he shouted. “There are other agents. They must be the ones who took Al-Medi. Did we track him?”
“Yes,” said Sascha. “We know where they took him. It’s near Pobedy Park.”
Cloud stood up. He grabbed his raincoat from the floor.
“I need the address.”
“What if they moved him?”
“One of them is injured. Perhaps they’re still there.”
Cloud zipped up his raincoat, then looked at Sascha.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t you understand what’s happening?” Cloud screamed. “There are two more agents. We need to remove them.”
Cloud turned and moved to the door.
“Stop!” yelled Sascha. “Don’t be a fool. You can’t go.”
Cloud turned around.
“And why not?”
“You’re the only one who knows where the bomb is going. If they catch you, they’ll dig it out of your head like a peach pit.”
“They won’t catch me.”
“But if they do—”
Cloud shook his head, finally releasing his grip on the doorknob.
“Then you have to go.”
Sascha nodded.
“It’s raining,” said Cloud. “Take the Mercedes. Park a few blocks away. There’s Semtex in the trunk.”
“Semtex?” Sascha asked, anxiety in his voice. “It will—”
“Level the building,” interrupted Cloud. “That’s the idea. You don’t even need to do anything except stick it near the house. The detonator is already wired. Set it, get at least two hundred meters away, detonate it.”
75
MOSCOW
Dewey parked the station wagon on a quiet side street near Moscow University, on the opposite side of the city from the safe house. If FSB was tracking the car, they would find it. When they did, he wanted to be far away.