Stone Cold (33 page)

Read Stone Cold Online

Authors: David Baldacci

Tags: #Suspense, #Fiction, #General, #Thrillers, #FIC000000

CHAPTER 93

A
FTER THE EXCHANGE
, Gray and Simpson had left the Capitol area quickly.

Simpson said, “How soon will you know when Carr and Lesya’s son are dead?”

“Anytime now. You know, it was quite ballsy of you to confess to Carr that you were the one who ordered his execution.”

“I didn’t want him to die without knowing. It would have left me unfulfilled.”

“Still, I wouldn’t have done it,” Gray said.

Simpson took the old orders from Gray and studied them. “The world is better off because of what we did.”

“I agree. Two dead Soviet leaders. We cleared the way for peace.”

“We never got the credit we deserved, though.”

Gray said, “That’s because it wasn’t authorized. We took matters into our own hands.”

“Patriots have to do what they have to do. So what now?”

“The orders and this cell phone will be destroyed.” He took the papers back from Simpson.

“What’s on the cell phone? I couldn’t hear.”

“Be glad you couldn’t, Roger. Otherwise, I would’ve had to kill you too.”

Simpson stared at him with an incredulous expression. “You’re joking.”

“Of course I am,” Gray lied.

At four o’clock in the morning, Carter Gray received the news. His men had been wiped out. Carr and Finn had escaped. Carr, the killing machine, obviously hadn’t lost his touch. He immediately called Simpson.

“Well?” Simpson asked.

“Just like we planned, Roger. Carr and Finn are dead. There’ll be nothing in the news. We’ll cover it all up.”

“Excellent. Now we can finally put this behind us.”

Gray hung up.
Right.

He met with the president later that day after he had taken care of sanitizing the visitor center.

The commander in chief was not particularly happy about these events. “What the hell happened there last night? I was told they found blood in there and evidence of a gun battle.”

“Sir, we were able to track down John Carr and Lesya’s son at the visitor center.”

“My God, in the middle of the Capitol!”

“I have no idea how they got in there, but they did. We received a tip, went down there with a detachment of paramilitary and had a very intense shoot-out.”

“And what the hell happened?”

“The appropriate people were terminated,” Gray said vaguely.

“Did we take any casualties?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Families are being notified.”

“Where are the bodies?”

“We’re having them flown overseas for discreet disposal. We have to keep this hush-hush, sir. The press would have a field day with all this.”

“Look, Carter, I am the president. I want to know what all
this
is. And I want to know right now.”

Gray sat back. He had of course been expecting this. He pulled the orders from his pocket. He’d destroyed the cell phone, but these orders were too valuable. Valuable principally because they didn’t have his name on them.

The president read through the documents. “Roger Simpson?”

Gray nodded. “Let me tell you the entire story, sir.” It was mostly fabrication, but Gray delivered it with such authority and assurance that when the president sat back, it was clear he accepted all of it as truth.

“And Lesya and Rayfield Solomon’s involvement?” the president asked. “Solomon has been labeled a traitor to this country. Was he? If not, we have to make this right, somehow.”

Gray hesitated. “I cannot say with assurance that he was a traitor, sir.”

“But you said he was terminated. You said he was a traitor.”

“Back then it seemed clear that he was. Now, perhaps less so. I have to investigate further.”

“You do that, Carter. You do that. And if the truth is that this man was innocent, we will make it right, do you understand?”

“I’d have it no other way. Ray Solomon was my friend.”

“My God, two Soviet leaders assassinated by this country. I can’t believe it.”

“Not many of us could, sir.”

“You’re saying you didn’t know?” the president asked sharply.

Gray chose his words carefully. “Things operated differently back then. We had evidence of Soviet plots to kill U.S. presidents from time to time, but we took measures to counter them. The truth couldn’t come out because it might have led to nuclear war. They were never official plots of the Soviet leadership, you have to understand, but the Cold War was played for all it was worth.”

“So who the hell ordered the assassinations of Andropov and Chernenko?”

“The orders didn’t come through me.”

“Are you telling me that Roger Simpson, who if I recall was merely a case agent, did this on his own?”

“No, not at all. He never would have done something like that by himself. He must have received authorization from higher channels.”

“Channels that circumvented you? Why? You were his superior, were you not?”

“Not for all matters, sir. And my feelings on assassinations of foreign leaders was clear. There was an executive order making it illegal, and that was where I drew the line.”

“Well, perhaps I should talk to Roger about this directly.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise, sir. He’s going to make his own run for the White House. He’s a fellow party member of yours. You start making inquiries, then there’re leaks to the press and eventually everything comes out. As you know it’s much harder these days to keep secrets.”

“Damn whistleblowers; yes, I know.”

“And what would Senator Simpson say? His signatures are on these orders. He will claim that higher-ups ordered the killings. He might even say I knew about it. You can hardly blame him for trying to cover his tracks. But the matter is over. Two men were killed. Illegally? Probably. Did the result justify the means? I think humanity would judge that it did. I say we let sleeping dogs lie, Mr. President. Just let sleeping dogs lie.”

“I’ll think about it, Carter. But keep me informed of further developments.”

“One more thing, sir.”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to come back to work. As the intelligence chief. I want to serve my country again.”

“Well, as you know, that slot is presently unfilled. So it’s yours if you really want it. I doubt the Senate will have any problem confirming a Medal of Freedom winner.”

“I really want it, Mr. President.”

He shook Gray’s hand. “I appreciate your frankness today, Carter. You’re a true patriot. Wish we had more like you.”

“I’m only doing my job, sir.” Actually, Gray was thinking that with Carr still out there, he wanted to be surrounded by as many heavily armed men as possible.

“You know, I believe you’d make a good president.”

Gray laughed. “Thank you, sir, but I don’t think I have the right qualifications.” What Gray left unsaid was he believed he was
overqualified
for the job. Plus, he wanted a position with
real
power. All a president could really do was start wars, and those came along all too infrequently. Other than that, the office was fairly impotent, Gray felt.

He left the White House and climbed into his chopper. As it rose into the air, he knew he should feel good, victorious. Yet he didn’t. In fact, he had rarely felt this depressed in his life.

CHAPTER 94

O
LIVER
S
TONE DIDN

T ATTEND
Milton’s funeral, though most of the others were present and grief-stricken. Caleb was so distraught at his friend’s death that Alex and Annabelle had to hold him upright. Harry Finn had wanted to come but he was still in hiding with his family.

Alex had checked in with his supervisor and had found that all of his problems had gone away. “I don’t know what the hell it was all about,” the supervisor said, “and I don’t think I want to know.”

They all gathered a week later at Caleb’s condo to honor Milton’s memory. This time Finn came with Lesya.

“I can’t believe Oliver missed Milton’s funeral,” Reuben said, staring down into his beer. “Can’t believe it,” he said again, his eyes red.

Annabelle looked at Alex. “No word from him at all?”

Alex shook his head. “Harry, you were the last one to see him. Did he say anything about where he was going? What he was going to do?”

Finn shook his head. “I know he blames himself for Milton’s death.”

Caleb said angrily, “And I read in the paper where Carter Gray is going to be the head of the intelligence community again. Isn’t that just wonderful? We all know what he’s done. We know, but we have no proof.” He slumped down in a chair and stared at a photo of Milton that he’d placed on a shelf for all to see. Tears slid down his fat cheeks.

Finn said, “My family and I will have to leave the country, somehow. Gray won’t stop until he gets us.”

“I think not. It is time to end this foolishness.”

All eyes swung around to Lesya, who sat in one corner.

From her bag she pulled an item, a very unusual object for an elderly woman to be carrying around. It was a bear.

“My granddaughter’s beloved bear. My beautiful Susie’s bear that I gave her when she was very little.”

Everyone simply stared at her, no doubt wondering if she had at that very instant lost her mind.

“It is with Susie’s permission that I do this.” She took a small penknife from her purse and cut the stitching holding the bear together. She parted the seam, reached in and pulled out a small box.

“I had a craftsman in Russia make it for me.” She took out a key, unlocked the box and took out a thumb-size electronic device with a USB port. “Does anyone here have a computer?”

The scene on the computer screen was a small sparsely furnished room. Four people were seated around a wooden table. A younger Lesya and Rayfield Solomon were on one side. Across from them was Roger Simpson as a young man. And next to Simpson was another man who hadn’t really changed all that much.

“Carter Gray,” Alex said.

Lesya nodded. “It was Rayfield’s idea to secretly film this. The mission was so monumental, you see.”

As they watched the four discussed the assassination. It seemed that Andropov had already been killed, and they were now focusing on Konstantin Chernenko as the only man standing in the way of Gorbachev’s rise to power.

“You did wonderfully the first time, Ray and Lesya,” Gray was saying. “There wasn’t the slightest doubt that Andropov died from natural causes.”

“There are certain poisons that leave no trace,” Lesya commented. “And there are those high up in the Soviet Union who were not sad to see poor Yuri go.”

“Perhaps it will be the same with Chernenko,” Simpson said, “now that he’s been named the general secretary.”

Gray cut in. “But wait a bit. At least a year. It will allow us time to arrange things on our end and cut down on suspicion. All roads now point to Gorbachev taking power after Chernenko dies.”

“If we wait, Konstantin may accommodate us without poison. He is not a well man,” Solomon pointed out.

“So we give it a year,” Gray said again. “Then if he’s still alive, you and Lesya can make sure he isn’t living much longer.”

“And the director and the president are on board with this too?” Solomon asked.

Simpson answered, “Absolutely. They see it as critical to world peace and the destruction of the Soviet Union. As you know, there are many on the Soviet side who want this too.”

Gray was beaming. “You’ll both be heroes,” he said. He turned to Lesya. “Your coming over to our side has made all the difference. If there is peace between the U.S. and what’s left of the Soviet Union, it will be in large measure because of you. And though it can never be made public, you will have earned the eternal gratitude of your adopted nation. You and Ray have risked your lives countless times on behalf of this country and I bring a message directly from the president that he expresses his heartfelt gratitude for all that you’ve done for America.”

The film ran for a few more minutes and then stopped. Lesya said, “I have never seen any human beings who could lie as well as your Carter Gray and Roger Simpson. Next to them, I was but a rank amateur.”

“Why the hell didn’t you show us this before?” Alex demanded.

“When you gave us the written orders?” Finn added.

“Only fools give up all they have on the first go-round. You keep something back always. I had the film saved and put on this device before I placed it inside the bear and gave it to Susie.”

“My God, people died, Milton died,” Caleb said in a hushed tone.

“I could do nothing about that,” she said simply. “If we had given them this too, where would we be? People would still be dead. Your friend would still be dead. And we would have nothing.”

“But what do we do with this?” Alex said.

“I want to meet with Carter Gray.”

“What!” Finn exclaimed.

“Gray and I must sit down face-to-face.”

“What if he won’t?” Alex said.

Lesya smiled. “Let me talk to him on the phone. Then he will see me.”

CHAPTER 95


I
T

S BEEN A LONG TIME
, Lesya,” Gray said as the two sat across from each other. They were in a motel room in Fredericksburg, Virginia. “You’ve changed quite a bit,” he added politely.

“Given recent events it is clear that you haven’t changed at all.”

“You said on the phone that you had something I needed to see?”

“I know you have men outside. You always have men outside, Carter.”

“Yes, in my line of work one has to take precautions. The thing you wanted to show me? I don’t have a lot of time.”

Lesya opened the laptop computer she’d brought with her. Gray sat watching it until the screen went dark. He looked over at her.

“Was the film Rayfield’s idea?”

“Yes.”

“If he suspected the truth, why did he carry out the plan?”

“He was loyal. You were not. But he really did it to protect me. He knew how vulnerable I would be. He at least had the cover of the Americans. I had nothing.”

“What happened to you and Rayfield was something that I’ve always deeply regretted, Lesya. In many ways he was the best friend I ever had.”

“He trusted you, Carter. I did not, but he did. It was Simpson he was always wary of.”

“He was a good judge of character.” Gray sat forward, seeming eager to finally tell the truth. “Lesya, I did not order his death. That was Roger’s doing. I never would have done that to Ray. Never. I was furious when I found out, but there was nothing I could do. And I tried with all my might to have Ray’s name removed from the Wall of Shame at CIA. But Roger had fixed that up too neatly. He had built a very convincing story of Ray’s treason. And with Ray dead, and unable to defend himself, there was nothing I could do.”

“I don’t want your explanations, Carter. What’s done is done. Nothing can bring my husband back.”

“But the right result was achieved. You of all people understand what that meant for the world. Ray would have understood that.”

“Oh yes, he would. But my husband died. And his name is now synonymous with traitor in the country of his birth. He died for his country and they call him a traitor. This I cannot live with.”

“If there had been anything I could do about that, I would have. But my hands were tied. If I exposed Roger, I would have exposed myself. He knew that. He may be dishonorable, but he’s not stupid.”

“So you would not expose yourself to save the reputation of
your
‘best’ friend? You would not give up your career to do that? Rayfield might have been your best friend, but you were clearly not
his
friend.”

“I admit that I was weak and selfish not to give myself up for Ray.”

“Yes, you were,” she said bluntly. “So the assassinations were not authorized by your government? It was you and Simpson and a few others. None in political leadership positions. I know you won’t answer my question, but it is the truth. I’ve had many decades to think about it.” She sat back and studied him. Gray’s normally confident demeanor had faded markedly.

He said, “Roger was afraid that if Ray found out the plan wasn’t authorized he would have exposed him. And the truth is Ray would have. Regardless of the damage it would have done to him personally.”

“That is exactly right. My husband was an honorable man. And yet he was murdered and Roger Simpson has a fine career as a senator of this country.”

“Lesya, you know how things were back then.”

With a wave of her hand, she cut him off. “Things back then were exactly the same as they are today. Nothing has changed except the people. And the people who play these games are all the same. They talk of doing good, of making the world a better place. That is all bullshit. It is about power and about protecting their interests. That is all it is ever about. Always!”

Gray sat back. “So what do you want? I’m sure you’ve thought about that too over all these decades.”

“Oh yes, I have thought about it. And I know exactly what I want. And I have been waiting to tell you for thirty years, you son of a bitch. And you’re going to sit there and listen. And then you’re going to do
exactly
as I say.”

When she had finished, Gray rose to go. “Can I expect to have the original of that film and all copies in return for doing what you’ve asked?”

“No, you cannot. You only have my word that I will take it to my grave. And you and Simpson should consider yourselves fortunate. I could destroy you both. Nothing would make me happier. But I am a person who actually thinks of things besides my own happiness. And that is the only thing that has saved you and the miserable Simpson. Now leave me. I do not want to see you again. Oh, but you can tell the good senator something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve heard he wants to be president.”

“Yes, he intends on running.”

“Well, you can tell him to rethink his plans. Unless he wants to explain the contents of that film to the American people. You will tell him that.”

“I will. Good-bye, Lesya. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

With another wave of her hand she dismissed a man who would shortly be running America’s intelligence empire once more.

Rayfield Solomon’s picture was taken down from the Wall of Shame at CIA. A bogus reason was given for his revised history. It was hidden under the rubric, “New evidence coming to light.” And then the CIA classified the evidence. Scholars might get a shot at it in a hundred years or so. Solomon was then posthumously given the CIA’s highest award for fieldwork. Never again would his name be spoken in the same sentence as traitor.

Lesya Solomon was awarded the Medal of Freedom, the first time it had been given to a former Russian spy. Again the reasons for this were classified, but it still made the national news. She even gave an interview praising the progress in American-Russian relations. She finished by saying that she wished her heroic husband, who did so much to end the Cold War, could have lived to see it. She refused all other interviews and once more disappeared.

Not surprisingly, Gray’s nomination to be the intelligence chief sailed through the Senate. A chopper flew him from his highly secure Maryland retreat to his office in Virginia every day. His life was once again filled with clandestine activities, hard decisions that influenced the entire world. One word from Carter Gray and nations trembled, it was said. The man was in his element once more.

But for those who knew him well, he had changed. The overpowering personality, the absolute intolerance for the smallest mistake, the stunning confidence front and center all these years had diminished. He was seen sitting in his office from time to time staring at the wall, an old photo in his hands. No one had ever seen what that picture was, because he kept it locked in a safe.

In the photo Lesya, Rayfield Solomon and Carter Gray were decades younger and looked happy and full of life. They were doing exciting work, risking their lives so that billions could live in peace. In those countenances one could see the friendship, even the love that had formed among them. Sitting there staring at that photo, Carter Gray would occasionally cry.

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