The Cardinal of the Kremlin - Tom Clancy [182]
"Don't you just love jet lag?" a member of the delegation greeted him. "Coffee's over there."
"I call it travel shock." Ryan got himself a mug and came
back. "Well, the coffee's decent. Where's everybody else?"
"Probably still sacked out, even Uncle Ernie. I caught a few hours on the flight, and thank God for the pill they gave us.
Ryan laughed. "Yeah, me too. Might even feel human in time for dinner tonight."
"Feel like exploring? I'd like to take a walk, but-"
"Travel in pairs." Ryan nodded. The rule applied only to the arms negotiators. This phase of negotiations would be sensitive, and the rules for the team were much tighter than usual. "Maybe later. I have some work to do."
"Today and tomorrow's our only chance," the diplomat pointed out.
"I know," Ryan assured him. He checked his watch and decided that he'd wait to eat until lunchtime. His sleep cycle was almost in synch with Moscow, but his stomach wasn't quite sure yet. Jack walked back to the chancery.
The corridors were mainly empty. Marines patrolled them, looking very serious indeed after the problems that had occurred earlier, but there was little evidence of activity on this Saturday morning. Jack walked to the proper door and knocked. He knew it was locked.
"You're Ryan?"
"That's right." The door opened to admit him, then was closed and relocked.
"Grab a seat." His name was Tony Candela. "What gives?"
"We have an op laid on."
"News to me-you're not operations, you're intelligence," Candela objected.
"Yeah, well, Ivan knows that, too. This one's going to be a little strange." Ryan explained for five minutes.
" 'A little strange,' you say?" Candela rolled his eyes.
"I need a keeper for part of it. I need some phone numbers I can call, and I may need wheels that'll be there when required."
"This could cost me some assets."
"We know that."
"Of course, if it works "
"Right. We can put some real muscle on this one."
"The Foleys know about this?"
" 'Fraid not."
"Too bad, Mary Pat would have loved it. She's the cowboy. Ed's more the button-down-collar type. So, you expect him to bite Monday or Tuesday night?"
"That's the plan."
"Let me tell you something about plans," Candela said.
They were letting him sleep. The doctors had warned him again, Vatutin growled. How was he supposed to accomplish anything when they kept-
"There's that name again," the man with the headphones said tiredly. "Romanov. If he must talk in his sleep, why can't he confess ?"
"Perhaps he's talking with the Czar's ghost," another officer joked. Vatutin's head came up.
"Or perhaps someone else's." The Colonel shook his head. He'd been at the point of dozing himself. Romanov, though the name of the defunct royal family of the Russian Empire, was not an uncommon one-even a Politburo member had had it. "Where's his file?"
"Here." The joker pulled open a drawer and handed it over. The file weighed six kilograms, and came in several different sections. Vatutin had committed most of it to memory, but had concentrated on the last two parts. This time he opened the first section.
"Romanov," he breathed to himself. "Where have I seen that ?" It took him fifteen minutes, flipping through the frayed pages as speedily as he dared.
"I have it!" It was a citation, scrawled in pencil. "Corporal A. I. Romanov, killed in action 6 October 1941 defiantly placed his tank between the enemy and his disabled troop commander's, allowing the commander to withdraw his wounded