The Bear and the Dragon - Tom Clancy [6]
"Who else was in the car?" Golovko asked.
"His driver. We have the name, a former militiaman. And one of his women, it would seem, no name for her yet."
"What do we know of Gregoriy's routine? Why was he there this morning?"
"Not known at this time, Comrade," Major Shelepin replied. "The militia are working on it."
"Who is running the case?"
"Lieutenant Colonel Shablikov, Comrade Chairman."
"Yefim Konstantinovich—yes, I know him. Good man," Golovko allowed. "I suppose he'll need his time, eh?"
"It does require time," Shelepin agreed.
More than it took for Rasputin to meet his end, Golovko thought. Life was such a strange thing, so permanent when one had it, so fleeting when it was lost—and those who lost it could never tell you what it was like, could they? Not unless you believed in ghosts or God or an afterlife, things which had somehow been overlooked in Golovko's childhood. So, yet another great mystery, the spymaster told himself. It had come so close, for the first time in his life. It was disquieting, but on reflection, not so frightening as he would have imagined. The Chairman wondered if this was something he might call courage. He'd never thought of himself as a brave man, for the simple reason that he'd never faced immediate physical danger. It was not that he had avoided it, only that it had never come close until today, and after the outrage had passed, he found himself not so much bemused as curious. Why had this happened? Who had done it? Those were the questions he had to answer, lest it happen again. To be courageous once was enough, Golovko thought.
Dr. Benjamin Goodley arrived at Langley at 5:40, five minutes earlier than his customary time. His job largely denied him much of a social life, which hardly seemed fair to the National Intelligence Officer. Was he not of marriageable age, possessed of good looks, a man with good prospects both in the professional and business sense? Perhaps not the latter, Goodley thought, parking his car in a VIP slot by the cement canopy of the Old Headquarters Building. He drove a Ford Explorer because it was a nice car for driving in the snow, and there would be snow soon. At least winter was coming, and winter in the D.C. area was wholly unpredictable, especially now that some of the eco-nuts were saying that global warming would cause an unusually cold winter this year. The logic of that escaped him. Maybe he'd have a chat with the President's Science Adviser to see if that made any sense talking with someone who could explain things. The new one was pretty good, and knew how to use single-syllable words.
Goodley made his way through the pass-gate and into the elevator. He walked into the Operations Room at 5:50 A.M.
"Hey, Ben," one said.
"Morning, Charlie. Anything interesting happening?"
"You're gonna love this one, Ben," Charlie Roberts promised. "A big day in Mother Russia."
"Oh?" Narrowed eyes. Goodley had his worries about Russia, and so did his boss. "What's that?"
"No big deal. Just somebody tried to whack Sergey Nikolay'ch."
His head snapped around like an owl's. "What?"
"You heard me, Ben, but they hit the wrong car with the RPG and took out somebody else we know—well, used to know," Roberts corrected himself.
"Start from the beginning."
"Peggy, roll the videotape," Roberts commanded his watch officer with a theatrical wave of the arm.
"Whoa!" Goodley said after the first five seconds. "So, who was it really?"
"Would you believe Gregoriy