The 14th Colony: A Novel (49 page)

“Pauline and I have said our goodbyes. We’ll be moving on from each other,” he said to her, his voice barely a whisper. “But like they say, you don’t need a parachute to skydive. You need a parachute to skydive twice.”

“You always could place things in their proper perspective. I’ll miss that.”

He shrugged. “Nostalgia ain’t what it used to be.”

“Cotton’s pretty pissed at himself.”

“It’s not his fault Zorin decided to blow his way out. The question is, do we have anything to be afraid of?”

On arrival they’d been told that the Secret Service had swept the bunker for radiation, not detecting enough to draw any conclusions. They’d also been told that Luke Daniels had been hurt and was in the hospital.

“Any word on Luke?” she asked.

“Stephanie’s there. We should hear something shortly.”

She watched him as he studied the empty room. “Does the swearing-in take long?”

He shook his head. “The chief justice will administer the oath, first to the vice president, then the president. We all stand there and gawk for the cameras. Fifteen to twenty minutes tops. No speeches. That’s all for tomorrow and the public ceremony outside the Capitol. Half hour and we’re clear. But Fox plans to hang around a little longer.”

She had to say, “We still have no concrete evidence that nukes are here.”

“They are. I can feel it.”

Her instincts were likewise pricked.

“We’ll need you here to keep a watch,” he said. “You and Cotton are the only ones who can positively ID Zorin and Kelly.”

They’d both snuck a peek through the window on Prince Edward Island.

“Are you going back to Tennessee tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Back home.”

He seemed not here, off somewhere else, far away.

“I got a bad feelin’ about this,” he muttered. “A real bad feelin’.”

*   *   *

Zorin finished explaining his plan, pleased that Kelly agreed with the tack he’d decided to take.

The waitress brought their second orders.

“You realize,” Kelly said, “that we will be the first to strike a direct blow against the main adversary.”

That they would, which meant something to him.

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, becoming 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.

“That’s impossible,” he said. “Much too dangerous. He needs to come out of it himself.”

She’d known that would be the response so she displayed her badge again and said, “I can only say, Doctor, that what’s at stake here is vital to this country. I have less than three hours to figure something out and I have to speak with my agent. I assure you, Luke would want you to do this.”

The man shook his head, holding firm.

She had to know, “Is there a stimulus you can give him that will bring him out of it?”

“There is, but I’m not administering it.”

Sue stepped toward the bed and yanked Luke upright, slapping him hard across the face.

Okay. That’d work, too.

The doctor moved to stop her, but Stephanie cut him off with her drawn weapon.

“Get out,” she said.

Shock came to the man’s face as he fled.

Sue slapped Luke again, then shook him. Luke began to cough, opening his eyes like someone roused from sleep, his pupils slow to focus and darkly stained beneath. More than a two-day stubble dusted his chin. He did not look or act like himself.

“It works in the field,” Sue said.

Stephanie smiled. That it did. “Luke, I need you to wake up.”

She could see that he was trying hard to do just that.

“I have to know if there’s anything to find in that house.”

She glanced at Sue and decided there was no choice, so she nodded and another slap popped the side of his face.

His eyes went wide, looking straight at Sue. “Did you … smack me?”

She grinned. “Only with the greatest of respect.”

He rubbed his cheeks. “That hurt.”

“Did you hear what I asked?” Stephanie said.

“Yeah, I got it. But I’m having a hard time breathing.”

Oxygen lines wrapped his head and fed air straight to his nostrils. She gave him a moment to savor a few breaths of clean air.

“The roof collapsed,” he said. “How did I get out?”

Stephanie pointed at Sue. “She saved your ass.”

“Looks like I owe you one.”

Stephanie found her phone and dialed. When the connection established she hit
SPEAKER.
Danny had been waiting for her call, he too knowing they were dead in the water except for what Luke might know.

“That Tallmadge journal is … in the house,” Luke said. “We were reading it. Begyn and I.” He rubbed his head. “But we … didn’t finish … before the shooting started.”

“The house burned bad,” Sue said. “But it is still standing.”

“So the journal is gone,” a new voice said.

Danny. Through the phone.

Luke saw the unit in her hand. “No, it’s not.”

“Talk to us, Luke,” Danny said. “I got the entire U.S. government coming through the gates. Do I need to get them out of here?”

“That journal,” Luke said, “is inside a fireproof cabinet in the master bedroom closet. A secret chamber Begyn knew about.”

It seemed to take all he had to get that out.

She gestured that he should take it easy.

“Stephanie, you’re the closest we have,” Danny said. “Petrova wanted that journal in the worst way. We need it.”

And Zorin doesn’t have it, yet he continues to move forward.

“I’m headed there now.”

“I’ll send some help by chopper. But get there first and check it out.”

*   *   *

Malone stared at Danny Daniels. When the call came from Stephanie the president had walked across the second-floor hallway into the sitting room where he and Edwin Davis had set up headquarters. Downstairs was far too busy, with too many people for even a semblance of privacy. New staff were eagerly beginning to claim their assigned posts as the old closed out their desks.

“I should go to that house,” Malone said to the president.

Daniels shook his head. “You and Cassiopeia are the only ones who know exactly what Zorin and Kelly look like. I’m going to need you both in the security center. We have cameras everywhere. See if you spot either one of them outside the fence.”