'What do you think?' the Russian snapped.
'Nothing happened—it could have, but nothing did. I think all you've got is a very lonely girl. You were already married to your job when you married her. It happens to a lot of guys in a lot more prosaic jobs. She's a hell of a good woman—you're lucky. I guess that's maybe the real reason I don't want to kill you.'
Karamatsov stopped and turned, ignoring the muzzle of the gun at his head, staring at Rourke. Rourke whispered, 'I almost envy you—with her. If you're fool enough to lose her, I should shoot you,' and Rourke pushed the muzzle of the Python against Karamatsov's head again and they walked the last few yards to the door of the radio room. 'Now knock—be polite,' Rourke whispered.
Karamatsov knocked on the door, shouting in Russian, 'It is Major Karamatsov—open the door— immediately.'
The door opened and there was a soldier there with a gun in his hand and Rourke, in Russian, said, 'Put it away or you've got a dead major—you want to be responsible, go ahead and be a hero of the Soviet Union.' The soldier hesitated a moment, then stepped back into the room. 'Call for the radio hookup,' Rourke rasped to Karamatsov in English.
The Russian hesitated, then shouted into the radio room. In a moment, the same young Russian who had appeared at the door with a rifle appeared with the microphone, passing it to Karamatsov. Rourke jockeyed Karamatsov into position, so he could see the inside of the radio room over the Russian's shoulder. He glanced down the hallway, saw a face peering around the corridor, then the face withdrew. Rourke said to the KGB man, 'Now, get on the radio and make it good—call off the neutron strike. Remember, my Russian's just fine.'
Karamatsov pushed the button on the microphone and began speaking into it, then from the speaker inside there was heavy static, then a guttural voice, coming back to him. Rourke listened to the voice on the speaker and Karamatsov arguing, Karamatsov finally admitting the situation he was in. There was a long silence, then the voice was replaced by another voice, speaking in English.
'This is General Varakov—your name is Rourke, no? I do not want Karamatsov killed, at least not yet. He was too proud, perhaps this will be good for his—what is it—the Latin word, the ego. Yes. I have called off the neutron weapon strike. I will meet you some day. It is hard for me to believe you are acting alone, though.'
Karamatsov glanced toward Rourke, and for a moment Rourke could read his eyes, then Rourke took the microphone from Karamatsov, saying, 'General—I wasn't acting alone. I freed President Chambers and he helped me—you've got a tough adversary in him. I'll give you some advice—don't underestimate him.'
'And some of the advice for you, my young friend,' the voice on the loudspeaker came back. 'You have just used all the nine lives of a cat this night. Do tell this to your President Chambers—do not underestimate me.' And the radio went dead.
Rourke ripped the microphone free of the cord and tossed it down the empty corridor, saying to Karamatsov, 'Now let's get out of here so I can call off the attack before it gets started.' Running in a slow lope beside the KGB man, the gun still trained on the Russian's head, Rourke started down the hallway toward the aircraft maintenance section. Behind him, he could hear the shuffling of the Russian boots on the corridor floor, but he didn't bother to turn around.
Chapter Forty-Three
The elevator section of the underground hangar and maintenance complex was huge, more vast in size than Rourke had ever imagined. The twin engine prop plane was ready, the bikes loaded aboard, Chambers—Rourke had breathed a sigh of relief finding that the new president knew how to fly—was at the copilot's controls. At gunpoint, Natalie had moved Rubenstein, complete with the I.V. and the stomach tube, from the hospital section, and had him already loaded aboard. She had said nothing to her husband as Rourke had brought Karamatsov in still at gunpoint.
The doors leading to the elevator section were closed behind them, massive steel doors that effectively sealed the compound.
'How are the RPMs, Mr. President?' Rourke shouted in through the hatch in the port side of the fuselage. The president gave a thumbs-up signal and Rourke turned back to Karamatsov, saying, 'Well, major—looks like we take off. Do I have to cold cock you—that's slang for knock you out—or will you just stay here and wait?'
Karamatsov said nothing, then Natalie spoke. 'I will guard him, John—you don't need to knock him out.'
Rourke looked at her, saying, 'I can't leave you here—you'll be—'
'If I go with you, I am still a KGB agent. Your people won't welcome me with open arms. Besides—' and she left the word hanging.
'I can let you off between here and there,' Rourke suggested, his voice low.
'If the entrance doors are opened, they will be able to scramble some of the captured American fighter planes and pursue you—they'll shoot you down.'
'I can't let you stay here,' Rourke said. 'What about what you've done?'
The girl looked at her husband, saying to Rourke, 'I don't think Vladmir will admit to what I've done—he'll find a way to cover it up. Varakov doesn't want him dead, and Varakov would not kill me and leave Vladmir alive. Perhaps I'll just retire as an agent.'
Karamatsov spoke, saying to Rourke, 'I will not kill her.'
Natalie cut in, saying, 'No—he'll let me live. He'll remind me of it each time I look at him, with everything he doesn't say. Vladmir and I have been comrades together much longer than we have been husband and wife—I know his secrets, too.'
'We've wound up in the middle of a soap opera, haven't we,' Rourke said, smiling at the girl.
There was confusion in Karamatsov's eyes, and the girl laughed then, saying, 'That was a class at the Chicago school you did not have to take Vladmir, darling. The female agents were briefed on the story lines of the dramatic programs shown on television here during the afternoons—so we could convince another American woman
