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By Root 597 0

the few, slower-moving vehicles he encountered, until reaching the small town of Blaine and the intersection of Route 5, which he took south until a little more than an hour later, when he reached the northern fringes of Seattle. He pulled into the parking lot of a sporting goods and clothing store, bought jeans, a belt, a lightweight plaid shirt, white athletic socks, and a pair of moccasins, changed into his purchases in a changing room, transferred what he’d been carrying in his old clothing to the new, paid, left, and drove to Sea-Tac, Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. He checked the departure board. Good! A flight to Washington’s Dulles Airport was scheduled to leave in two hours. He bought a first-class ticket with a credit card, went to the airline’s VIP club, settled in a corner away from other passengers, and placed a call. It was almost noon in Seattle, three o’clock in Washington, DC.

The secretary in Sydney Wingate’s office in the J. Edgar Hoover building answered the secured line. “This is Mrs. Wales,” she said.

“I need Wingate,” Baumann said. “It’s Scope.”

She went to the open office door and said to the special agent behind the desk, Sydney Wingate, the Elephant Man, “Scope on the SCI line.” She backed away and closed the door as Wingate picked up the secured extension on his desk.

“Scope?”

“Yes. They blew my cover. I’m heading back.”

“When?”

“Now.” He gave the details of the flight.

“You’re bringing what you have with you?”

“Affirmative. I’ve got it all.”

“Come directly here.”

“Okay.”

“Skip” Traxler, known to Zachary Jasper as Billy Baumann—known to his handlers at FBI headquarters in Washington as “Scope”—hung up, went to a restaurant in the main terminal, where he had shrimp bisque, a salad, crusty French bread, and a local microbrewery beer, bought a paperback novel at a bookstore for the flight, and read in the departure lounge until his flight was called.

Chapter 18

That Night

Moscow

Pauling was glad Lerner had chosen the Anchor restaurant in the Palace Hotel because it featured American-style seafood dishes. He’d never become especially fond of Russian food during his seven years in Moscow, although the caviar was to his liking, and there were certain lamb dishes he enjoyed at the better restaurants. He’d learned early in his assignment not to order chicken: “The Russian method of slaughtering chickens is starvation,” his American embassy friends often said.

Lerner was enjoying a scotch when Pauling joined him at a corner table as far removed from the dining room’s bustle as possible. Pauling was served a Bloody Mary, which he raised in a toast: “Good to be with you again, Bill.”

“The feeling is mutual, of course. Did you have a pleasant afternoon?”

“Very. I don’t know why the Russians insist on cramming enough furniture for two rooms into one, but the bed’s comfortable, and the shower actually delivers hot water. I took a nap.”

“A sure sign of aging.”

Pauling laughed and shook his head. “I’ve always enjoyed naps, short ones, twenty-minute battery chargers.”

“I used to enjoy naps, but now I’m afraid I’ll miss something,” Lerner said in his soft, measured voice. “Our titular leader, Secretary Rock, is in town.”

“So I’ve read.”

“She impresses me. Her name is apt.”

“A no-nonsense lady. I met her once. She looks you in the eye and doesn’t let go. Where’s Elena?”

“She’ll join us shortly. You haven’t made plans for after dinner, have you?”

“No.”

“Good. I’ve arranged a meeting.”

Pauling’s eyebrows went up. “You aren’t trying to find me female companionship, are you?”

“No, Max, I gave up pimping when I gave up naps, at least pimping for Americans. I think you’ll find the meeting useful.”

“Good. I’ll look forward to it.”

Lerner looked beyond Pauling to see Elena Alekseyevna crossing the dining room in their direction. He stood, kissed her on the cheek, and said, nodding at Pauling, “Recognize this stranger, Elena?”

She broke into a wide smile as Pauling stood, grasped her hands, and kissed her on both cheeks. “You look wonderful, Elena.”

“Thank you, Max. You look