he wasn’t real.”
“Oh, he’s flesh and bone all right,” said Mayo, “but the body sitting on that tractor belongs to someone else.”
“If you’re right, you’ve got a live bomb in your hands,” said Montrose.
Mitchell’s enthusiasm began to dim. “We may be digging for clams in Kansas. Seems to me the evidence is damned shaky. You can’t go on the air, Curt, and claim some clown is impersonating the President unless you have documented proof.”
“Nobody knows that better than me,” Mayo admitted. “But I’m not about to let this story slip through my hands.”
“You’re launching a quiet investigation then?”
“I’d turn in my press card if I didn’t have the guts to see it through.” He looked at his watch. “If I leave now, I should be in Washington by noon.”
Montrose crouched in front of the TV screen. His face had the look of a child who found his tooth still in the glass of water the next morning. “It makes you wonder,” he said in a hurt tone, “how many times one of our Presidents used a double to fool the public.”
41
Vladimir Polevoi glanced up from his desk as his chief deputy and number-two man of the world’s largest intelligence-gathering organization, Sergei Ira-nov, walked purposefully into the room. “You look as if you’ve got a hot stake up your ass this morning, Sergei.”
“He’s escaped,” Iranov said tersely.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Paul Suvorov. He’s managed to break out of Bougainville’s hidden laboratory.”
Sudden anger flushed Polevoi’s face. “Damn, not now!”
“He called our New York covert action center from a public telephone in Charleston, South Carolina, and asked for instructions.”
Polevoi rose and furiously paced the carpet. “Why didn’t he call the FBI and ask them for instructions too? Better yet, he could have taken out an advertisement in
“Fortunately his superior immediately sent a coded message to us reporting the incident.”
“At least someone is thinking.”
“There’s more,” said Iranov. “Suvorov took Senator Larimer and Congressman Moran with him.”
Polevoi halted and spun around. “The idiot! He’s queered everything!”
“He is not entirely to blame.”
“How do you draw that conclusion?” Polevoi asked cynically.
“Suvorov is one of our five top agents in the United States. He is not a stupid man. He was not briefed on Lugovoy’s project and it’s logical to assume it was entirely beyond his comprehension. He undoubtedly treated it with great suspicion and acted accordingly.”
“In other words, he did what he was trained to do.”
“In my opinion, yes.”
Polevoi gave an indifferent shrug. “If only he’d concentrated on simply giving us the location of the laboratory. Then our people could have moved in and removed the Huckleberry Finn operation from Bougainville’s control.”
“As things are now, Madame Bougainville may be angry enough to cancel the experiment.”
“And lose a billion dollars in gold? I doubt that very much. She still has the President and Vice President in her greedy hands. Moran and Larimer are no great loss to her.”
“Nor to us,” Iranov stated. “The Bougainvilles were our smokescreen in case the American intelligence agencies scuttled Huckleberry Finn. Now, with two abducted congressmen in our hands, it might be considered an act of war, or at very least a grave crisis. It would be best if we simply eliminated Moran and Larimer.”
Polevoi shook his head. “Not yet. Their knowledge of the inner workings of the United States military establishment can be of incalculable benefit to us.”
“A hazardous game.”
“Not if we’re careful and quickly dispose of them when and if the net tightens.”
“Then our first priority is to keep them from discovery by the FBI.”
“Has Suvorov found a safe place to hide?”
“Not known,” Iranov answered. “He was only told by New York to report every hour until they reviewed the situation and received orders from us in Moscow.”
“Who heads our undercover operations in New York?”
“His name is Basil Kobylin.”
“Advise him of Suvorov’s predicament,” said Polevoi, “omitting, of course, any reference pertaining to Huckleberry Finn. His orders are to hide Suvorov and his captives in a secure place until we can plan their escape from U.S. soil.”
“Not an easy matter to arrange.” Iranov helped himself to a chair and sat down. “The Americans are searching under every rock for their missing heads of state. All airfields are closely watched, and our submarines can’t come within five hundred miles of their coastline without detection by their underwater warning line.”
“There is always Cuba.”
Iranov looked doubtful. “The waters are too closely guarded by the U.S. Navy and Coast Guard against drug traffic. I advise against any escape by boat in that direction.”
Polevoi gazed out the windows of his office overlooking Dzerzhinsky Square. The late-morning sun was fighting a losing battle to brighten the drab buildings of the city. A tight smile slowly crossed his lips.
“Can we get them safely to Miami?”
“Florida?”
“Yes.”
Iranov stared into space. “There is the danger of roadblocks, but I think that could be overcome.”
“Good,” said Polevoi, suddenly relaxing. “See to it.”
Less than three hours after the escape, Lee Tong Bougainville stepped out of the laboratory’s elevator and faced Lugovoy. It was a few minutes before three in the morning, but he looked as if he had never slept.
“My men are dead,” Lee Tong said without a trace of emotion. “I hold you responsible.”
“I didn’t know it would happen.” Lugovoy spoke in a quiet but steady voice.”
“How could you not know?”
“You assured me this facility was escape-proof. I didn’t think he would actually make an attempt.”
“Who is he?”
“Paul Suvorov, a KGB agent, who your men picked off the Staten Island ferry by mistake.”
“But you knew.”
“He didn’t make his presence known until after we arrived.”
“And yet you said nothing.”
“That’s true,” Lugovoy admitted. “I was afraid. When this experiment is finished I must return to Russia. Believe me, it doesn’t pay to antagonize our state security people.”
The built-in fear of the man behind you. Bougainville could see it in the eyes of every Russian he met. They feared foreigners, their neighbors, any man in uniform. They’d lived with it for so long it became an emotion as common as anger or happiness. He did not find it in himself to pity Lugovoy. Instead, he despised him for willingly living under such a depressing system.
“Did this Suvorov cause any damage to the experiment?”
“No,” Lugovoy answered. “The Vice President has a slight concussion, but he is back under sedation. The President was untouched.”
“Nothing delayed?”
