Ramshawe took one glance at the release from Moscow and damn near rammed the ceiling with the top of his head as he blew directly upward out of his office chair.
Having almost walked into the wall with excitement, he reeled around and hit the buttons to the former assassin in the CIA, Lenny Suchov.
'I know, I know, Jimmy, I just got it. How
'Hey, that's a pretty sharp deduction — for a bloody spook,' said Jimmy, once more sounding like Crocodile Dundee.
'Oh, you mean I was clever enough to work out there may be a connection between the death in the White House and those deaths in the Siberian tundra?'
'I should bloody say so, old mate. The Ruskies obviously wiped out a top Siberian oil exec in the State Dining Room right here in Washington. And now they might have done a whole bloody planeload of 'em somewhere northeast of the Urals.'
'My thoughts completely,' said Lenny. 'Crudely but effectively stated. However, it's still very much a Russian affair — nothing to do with us. But I think it's our duty — mine at least — to take a look at something as sinister as this. We ought to know what's happening.'
'I agree, Lenny. But I'm not sure where to start. I suppose I could get U.S. Air Force Intelligence to find out precisely which aircraft from which base somehow took off and never returned. I could have someone get inside the rescue operation and find out how many Russian aircraft are on the case…'
'Jimmy, I think that might prove a waste of time.'
'What does that mean?'
'Because, if there is something sinister, there will be no aircraft and no air crash.'
'Gimme that one more time?'
'Jimmy, let us assume our general deductions are on the right lines. Someone near or at the top of the Russian food chain wanted those Siberian execs eliminated. Firstly, they would have found a far more efficient, quiet way of achieving that objective.
'Secondly, they would not have bothered to sabotage a damned expensive military aircraft, and effectively murder two or three Russian Air Force officers, in a totally unnecessary way. It's not the way they operate. It's completely out of character.
'No, young Jimmy. This aircraft crap is a cover-up. And quite a noisy one. They'll be aware that within a few days there'll be people all over the place trying to solve what the stupid newspapers will call
'But, Jimmy, they won't care who wants to investigate. Because no one will ever find anything. There's nothing to find. I'm sorry to disillusion you…but the Air Force jet is a decoy. Doesn't exist. But neither, I am afraid, not now, do all those oil chiefs.'
'Jesus. This is like listening to Sherlock Holmes. You're more bloody devious than the Russians…'
'That, Lt. Commander Ramshawe, is what I believe your government pays me to be.'
Jimmy chuckled. 'Well…former genius of the Black Sea wrestlers…what the hell do we do now?'
'You sit tight. I'm going to get some field agents on the case, simply to find out who died in Siberia. I'm looking for names. The whole list of who's suddenly gone missing. Then we can sit down and try to join up the pieces. Jimmy, this may have much more to do with your area of operations than you know. But for the moment, sit tight.'
'Sit tight? I'm not sitting bloody tight. I'm phoning the Big Man, right after I contact Admiral Morris.'
He said good-bye to the spymaster from Langley and punched in an e-mail message for Admiral Morris, his boss, to contact him from the West Coast, where he was attending a conference with the FBI in San Diego. He informed the Admiral that something had come up re the White House murder, and he was proposing to have a chat with Arnold Morgan.
Jimmy then called Admiral Morgan and quickly realized he had done so at a bad time.
'Christ, Ramshawe. It's nearly four bells, I
'Sorry, sir. But something's come up you'll want to know about…'
'How the hell do you know what I want to know about…?'
'Well, sir, I think…'
'Think, think, think. The whole damned world's thinking, mostly crap. I'm not interested in what you think. Call me with facts, fine. Not goddamned thoughts, hear me?'
'These are bloody facts, Admiral, otherwise I wouldn't have called…'
'That's entirely different,' the Admiral harrumphed. 'But I'm still busy. Can these facts wait, or is the entire goddamned planet on the brink of war?'
'Not exactly, sir. I guess they can wait.'
'How long can they wait?'
'Not long, sir. This is important.'
'All right, all right. Now listen. In precisely two hours I have to meet Mrs. Kathy Morgan in Le Bec Fin, one wildly expensive restaurant in the heart of Georgetown on one of the most expensive streets in the free world…I suppose you wanna come?'
'Jeez, Admiral. That would be great.' But he added after a sudden flashback on the Admiral's excellent taste in French wine, 'So long as I don't have to pay.'
And then, realizing this might be the precise moment to push his luck to the absolute brink, he asked, 'Can Jane come?' He knew of course that Kathy adored his fiancee, the Australian Ambassador's daughter Jane Peacock, but was nonetheless aware that Arnold's answer might not be precisely orthodox. Arnold's answers usually weren't.
'Can Jane come?' he rasped. 'Oh, sure, why not check whether there's any other members of her family at a loose end tonight…few cousins, aunts, maybe a coupla neighbors?
'How about your mom and dad, could they make it down from New York in time? Got any visiting uncles from the goddamned outback, might fancy a bowl of kangaroo soup at a high-class establishment at about twenty-five bucks a spoonful — bring the whole goddamned lot if you like. I'll remortgage the house.'
Jimmy by this time was falling about laughing. 'Actually, I meant just Jane, sir,' he eventually said.
''Course she can come,' grunted the Admiral. 'Eight bells, Le Bec Fin. And don't be late. My best to your dad.' Bang. Down phone.
Jimmy called Jane at the embassy and told her he'd pick her up at 7:45. Then he spoke to Admiral Morris, who was very thoughtful about the Russian press release and what Lenny Suchov had said. 'Good plan to run it past Arnie…I'm sorry I can't join you.'
Jimmy resisted the temptation to inform his boss that the merest suggestion of another guest at the table might have sent Arnold into a paroxysm of mock indignation. Instead he just said, 'I'll give him your best, sir. And it sure will be interesting to hear what he thinks about the old Ruskies.'
'Jimmy,' concluded Admiral Morris, 'we know what he thinks about the Ruskies. But this press release from their Air Force will get his attention.'
'It better,' replied his assistant. 'Otherwise I might find myself with the biggest dinner check I ever saw.'
It was raining steadily when Jimmy Ramshawe's black Jaguar came whipping through the puddles and pulled up right outside the entrance to the restaurant. A doorman immediately stepped out with an umbrella and motioned for Jane to jump out.
Then, somewhat surprisingly, he motioned for Jimmy also to disembark. 'Admiral's orders, sir, we're to park the car for you…you are Lt. Commander Ramshawe, aren't you?'
