Red Rabbit - Tom Clancy [305]
"Halfway home, probably. The Air Force is flying them over," Ritter told them. "ETA at Andrews is about eleven-forty, they told me."
* * *
THERE WERE WINDOWS in the front office, Ryan found out, and the flight crew was friendly enough. He was even able to talk a little about baseball. The Orioles had just one more game to win to finish the Phillies off, he was pleased and surprised to learn. The flight crew didn't even hint at asking why they were driving him back to America. They'd done it too many times and, besides, they never got good answers anyway. Aft, the Rabbit Family was sound asleep, a feat Ryan had not yet managed to accomplish.
"How long?" he asked the pilot.
"Well, that's Labrador there." He pointed. "Call it three hours more, and we'll be feet-dry almost all the way. Why don't you get some sleep, sir?"
"I don't sleep in the air," Jack admitted.
"Don't feel too bad, sir. Neither do we," the copilot told him. And that was good news, on reflection, Jack thought.
* * *
SIR BASIL CHARLESTON was having his own meeting with his Chief of Government at the moment. Neither in America nor in the U.K. did reporters write stories about when and why the chiefs of the various intelligence services met with their political masters.
"So, tell me about this Strokov fellow," she ordered.
"Not a very pleasant chap," C replied. "We reckon he was there to kill the actual shooter. He had a suppressed weapon to eliminate the noise. So, it would appear that the idea was to kill His Holiness and leave a dead assassin behind. Dead men still tell no tales, you see, Prime Minister. But perhaps this one will, after all. The Italian police must be chatting with him right now, I would imagine. He is a Turkish national, and I'll wager he had a criminal record, and/or experience in smuggling things into Bulgaria."
"So, it was the Russians who were behind this?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am. That seems virtually certain. Tom Sharp is talking to Strokov in Rome. We'll see how loyal he is to his masters."
"What will we do with him?" the PM asked. The answer was in the form of another question that she would have to answer. She did.
* * *
IT DID NOT occur to Strokov that when Sharp invoked the names of Aleksey Nikolay'ch Rozhdestvenskiy and Ilya Fedorovich Bubovoy, his own fate was sealed. He was merely dumbfounded that the British Secret Intelligence Service had the KGB so thoroughly penetrated. Sharp saw no reason to disabuse him of that notion. Shocked beyond his capacity to react intelligently, Strokov forgot all of his training and started singing. His duet with Sharp lasted two and a half hours, all of it on tape.
* * *
RYAN WAS MORE on autopilot than the Boeing was before it touched down at Runway Zero-One Right at Andrews Air Force Base. He'd been on the go for what? Twenty-two hours? Something like that. Something more easily done as a Marine second lieutenant (age twenty-two) than as a married father of two (age thirty -two) who'd had a fairly stressful day. He was also feeling his liquor somewhat.
There were two cars waiting at the bottom of the steps—Andrews had yet to install a jetway. He and Zaitzev took the first. Mrs. Rabbit and the Bunny took the second. Two minutes after that, they were on Suitland Parkway, heading into D.C. Ryan drew the task of explaining what they were passing along the way. Unlike his arrival in England, Zaitzev was not under the impression that this might be a maskirovka. And the detour past the Capitol Building ended whatever lingering suspicions he might have had. George Lucas on his best day could not have faked this scenery. The cars crossed the Potomac and went north of the George Washington Parkway, finally taking the marked exit to Langley.
"So, this is the home of the Main Enemy," the Rabbit said.
"I just think of it as the place I used to work."
"Used to?"
"Didn't you know? I'm stationed back in England now," Jack told him.
The whole