Authors: Al Ruksenas
“
Yes. Yes, of course! It won’t happen again.”
The Sorcerer’s face turned into a sarcastic smile. “You scared the devil out of Senator Dunne here when the last one was found.” Sherwyck reveled in his psychological puppeteering. “But, no matter,” he continued more convivially. “In several days the whole axis of power in this world will change. These details will be irrelevant.”
He lifted his glass in a toast.
“
I think I’ll ask to see the President tomorrow. One last time, so to speak.”
The others snickered expectantly.
“
Someone from the memorial committee asked that Blaze be the riderless horse in the Vice President’s funeral cortege into Arlington.” His lips turned into a mordant grin.
“
What about the investigation into General Starr’s accident?” Mr. Knowlton cautioned. “The reports of a black horse involved?”
“
Is my prized Arabian the only black stallion in Virginia?” Sherwyck replied with feigned indignity.
His cynical grin turned into a longing sigh. “My child of the desert. He reminds me so much of home.”
Chapter 46
Laura Mitchell was quietly sobbing at her uncle’s bedside. He had been pronounced dead more than a half hour earlier. She held his hand and looked at his peaceful face. All wrinkles of a lifetime of struggle were gone. He looked younger, just like in old, but treasured photos of a band of partisans in the forests of his beloved homeland.
She stroked his head. The body was still warm. “I know you can hear me, Uncle. You’ll always be with me. I am what you taught me.”
She took a deep breath of resolve. “I’ll prove you right. Chris will help me. And I swear we’ll destroy whoever killed you.”
A woman in business dress came into the hospital room. “Are you all right? Do you want more time?”
Laura looked with red, but drying eyes at the solicitous face. “Thanks, I’m all right.”
The lady shook her hand. “I’m with family and social services. I’m truly sorry for your loss. You know, he made arrangements some time ago. There’s a connection through an Embassy.”
“
Yes, of course,” Laura said with an emerging smile. “He wants to be buried with his brothers—the Brothers of the Forest.”
“
Oh?” The woman sounded intrigued. “It seems like there’s some story there.”
“
A long one,” Laura replied.
“
You’ll take good care of him?”
“
Certainly,” the woman assured and hugged her. “You go home and get some rest.”
“
Rest will have to come later,” Laura said determinedly. “Right now I have some business at a museum.”
“
But, it’s near closing time.”
“
So much, the better.”
***
Outside the hospital, she phoned Alvin Carruthers and told him what happened to her uncle. Carruthers sounded distraught in expressing his sympathies.
“
Meet me at the museum,” she said resolutely.
“
But, Laura,” came over the phone. “It’s closing time.”
“
There’s a back entrance, isn’t there?”
“
Well, yes, for maintenance and security. It’s not for visitors.”
“
I’m not going as a visitor.”
***
Laura Mitchell hurried to her car and drove the short distance from George Washington University Hospital to the National Museum of Natural History. She turned from Constitution Avenue onto 12th Street, then turned left into the hedge enclosed service area of the museum. The stretch of 12th Street in late afternoon looked so different from that dark night, she thought with a determined look, that night when Christopher Caine had fought off their deadly accosters.
She parked her car next to some other vehicles and started for the service door. Several people had just entered before her. She wondered if the door was unlocked or if she would have to wait for Al Carruthers outside.
Just as she reached to try the door, two muscular men grabbed her from behind. One muffled her mouth and the other jabbed her arm with a muscle relaxant. She struggled violently, but briefly, before they dragged her out of sight.
Chapter 47
As soon as he landed at Andrews Air Force Base, Colonel Caine headed for Washington University Hospital to see Jonas Mitchell and hopefully find Laura with him.
The hospital was on the way to the Pentagon where he had orders to brief General William Bradley. Colonel Garrison Jones had stayed behind in Egypt to inform officials about the infernal monastery and see how they would react to it.
Caine had just passed the highway interchange from Andrews and was speeding northwest on the divided stretch of Pennsylvania Avenue when he saw a blue sedan in traffic behind him.
The tail so benign on other occasions, now took on menacing significance after the revelations in the desert. The sedan was close and kept pace with him in traffic. He slowed for a changing traffic light where the road merged near the Anacostia River in the southeast part of the city. Glancing in the rear view mirror he saw the sedan coming at him. He could see that it was not going to stop and braced himself for impact. Seconds later the dark sedan banged into the rear of his Viper.
Caine pulled to the curb and stopped in a lurch. The other driver had pulled up behind him and was climbing out of his own car. Caine stormed out to confront the man when he noticed the diplomatic license plate.
Other traffic was slowly maneuvering around them, drivers aware that getting involved in a fender bender with a diplomat’s car was useless.
“
What the hell?” Caine exclaimed just as the driver was raising his hood. “You had no intention of stopping!”
“
I am sorry, Colonel. Truly.”
Caine stopped short when the man addressed him by rank.
“
You are a difficult man to contact. I tried several times, but it is dangerous.”
“
What the hell are you talking about? And what the hell are you going to do about my car?”
“
I am Oleg Alekseev of the Russian Embassy. This is the most innocent way we can meet.”
“
Why the hell should you want to contact me?” Caine demanded as he looked back to the rear of his roadster. “Do you realize what it costs to fix a car like this?”
“
I envy your ability to be concerned about such things,” the Russian diplomat and spymaster said. “It is a luxury most of my own people can only pine about.”
“
So, what the hell do you want to prove?”
“
I always thought you to be more a reserved man,” Alekseev said as he walked to the rear of Caine’s Viper. “Not fazed by small irritants.” He leaned over and looked at the buckled bumper and cracked trunk area.
Colonel Caine watched him. His anger turning to curiosity about this distinguished looking, slightly overweight stranger with gray hair, who seemed to express more than casual familiarity with him.
“
There is not much time,” Alekseev said as he straightened himself to face Caine. “This is the only way someone like me can meet someone like you without suspicion.”
He bent down again and animatedly looked at the rear of the Viper. Caine slowly bent down next to him and ran his fingers along the damaged trunk area.
“
Your people found a helicopter in the desert near Aswan,” Alekseev said to allay any doubts of his credibility.
Caine straightened to look at Alekseev who slowly stood full length and strode to the front of the sedan to assess the damage. Caine followed. The raised hood covered them from oncoming traffic.
“
Your inquiries are unsuccessful in identifying the flyers. The flight was a deep held secret among a cultist group in the secret police.”
Colonel Caine stared at him with steely eyes.
“
But, I know who they were.”
Caine stared at him unflinchingly. He could not reveal who he was, even though it appeared Alekseev knew about him, nor could he seem interested in the story of the helicopter, let alone the names of the flyers. But he dare not dismiss the man either.
“
Your discovery has helped me solve a lifelong puzzle.” Alekseev looked around to see if the accident had not stopped traffic. Vehicles seemed to be moving by at a tolerable pace. He continued: “My loving wife is Natasha, formerly Rudenko.”
Caine started rolling his eyes. He was familiar from Russian literature with obtuse storytelling.
“
She had an older brother, Yuri Rudenko, who was sent on a secret mission more than fifty years ago from which he never returned.”
Caine was interested.
“
I suspected over the years that he was betrayed by his own comrades.”
“
So, what else is new?” Caine thought to himself.
“
They were NKVD, but that’s another story.”
“
Weren’t they all,” Caine kept thinking, his thoughts beginning to drift to the damage done to his roadster.
“
Now, with your discovery of the helicopter, I know he was betrayed. My beloved wife has never forgotten, never forgiven. And she has never been the same.”
Caine’s look indicated some bewilderment.
“
Let me quickly say that there are patriots among us who are struggling against great odds to avoid retrenchment to an evil system.”
“
From idealism or from revenge?” Caine said facetiously.
“
The motive does not matter, Colonel. Do not be so patronizing. You are in danger of falling under such a system yourself!”
Colonel Caine could not let on that he understood what Alekseev was saying. “And just how is that?” he challenged.
Alekseev pulled a vest pocket calendar from his jacket and began scribbling something on a piece of notepaper. “We are exchanging insurance information,” he said as an aside.
“
The quest for answers to the fate of my wife’s brother has led to our meeting, Colonel,” Oleg Alekseev said somberly. “I—and some others not as fortunate, who met mysterious ends—have trailed rumors for years. Rumors of a worldwide cult of forces ascending through evil.”
“
And you expect me to believe this?” Caine asked to assure that he continue.
Alekseev took a deep breath in frustration. “That is a pillar of their success. Nobody believes it! That is why, I’m afraid, they will succeed in collapsing your government!”
“
You
are
nuts! You know that!” Caine goaded.
“
Let me assure you, that no matter what positive developments have come between our two countries, there is a powerful cabal within the former Soviet secret police that will never relent. This circle is exclusive and unknown even to high ranking progressive ranks within the former KGB itself—now the FSB.”
“
A lot of arm chair conspiracy buffs figure that. What else is new?”
“
No, my friend. They are not nostalgic for Stalin. Their leader is not in the Kremlin. This cabal pays homage to the devil. And he may have followers in your own government!”
Caine was riveted, but could not let on. He feigned polite, but frustrated interest, staring at the damage to his roadster.
“
The key, Colonel Caine, is the helicopter.”
Caine glanced sideways when his name was mentioned, then returned his stare to his car.
“
I appreciate and admire your discipline, Colonel. You don’t have to acknowledge anything of who you are or what I say. But listen, please!”
“
I’m listening,” he replied by indirect means of acknowledgment and appreciation.
“
I learned over a lifetime of secret and dangerous inquiry that three agents were sent to the Middle East in Nineteen
‐
fifty
‐
eight on an ultra
‐
secret mission. They brought back someone from a secret place in the desert to Aswan. They never returned.”