The Cardinal of the Kremlin - Tom Clancy [253]
Gerasimov's car pulled up to Lefortovo Prison's administrative entrance. His driver stayed with the car while the bodyguard followed him in. The KGB Chairman showed his ID card to the guard and walked by without breaking stride. The KGB was careful with security, but all its members knew the face of the Chairman and knew even better the power that it represented. Gerasimov turned left and headed for the administration offices. The prison superintendent wasn't there, of course, but one of his deputies was. Gerasimov found him filling out some forms.
"Good evening." The man's eyes were saved from bugging out by the glasses he wore. "Comrade Chairman! I was not-"
"You weren't supposed to be."
"How may I-"
"The prisoner Filitov. I need him immediately," Gerasimov said gruffly. "Immediately," he repeated for effect.
"At once!" The second deputy prison superintendent leaped to his feet and ran to another room. He was back in under a minute. "It will take five minutes."
"He must be properly dressed," Gerasimov said.
"His uniform?" the man asked.
"Not that, you idiot!" the Chairman snarled. "Civilian clothes. He must be presentable. You have all his personal effects here, don't you?"
"Yes, Comrade Chairman, but-"
"I do not have all night," he said quietly. There was nothing more dangerous than a quiet KGB Chairman. The second deputy superintendent fairly flew from the room. Gerasimov turned to his bodyguard, who smiled in amusement. Nobody liked jailers. "How long do you think?"
"Less than ten minutes, Comrade Chairman, even though they have to find his clothes. After all, that pipsqueak knows what a wonderful place this is to live in. I know him."
"Oh?"
"He was originally a 'One' man, but he performed poorly on his first assignment and has been a jailer ever since." The bodyguard checked his watch.
It took eight minutes. Filitov appeared with his suit most of the way on, though his shirt was not buttoned, and his tie merely draped around his neck. The second deputy superintendent was holding a threadbare topcoat. Filitov never had been one to buy a lot of civilian clothes. He was a Colonel of the Red Army, and was never comfortable out of his uniform. The old man's eyes were confused at first, then he saw Gerasimov.
"What is this?" he asked.
"You are coming with me, Filitov. Button your shirt. At least try to look like a man!"
Misha nearly said something, but bit it off. The look he gave the Chairman was enough to make the bodyguard move his hand a centimeter. He buttoned his shirt and tied his tie. It ended up crooked in his collar because he didn't have a mirror.
"Now, Comrade Chairman, if you will sign this-"
"You give me custody of a criminal like this?"
"What-"
"Handcuffs, man!" Gerasimov boomed. Unsurprisingly, the second deputy superintendent had a pair in his desk. He got them, put them on Filitov, and nearly pocketed the key before he saw Gerasimov's outstretched hand.
"Very good. I'll have him back to you tomorrow night."
"But I need you to sign-" The second deputy superintendent found that he was talking to a receding back.
"Well, with all the people under me," Gerasimov observed to his bodyguard, "there have to be a few "
"Indeed, Comrade Chairman." The bodyguard was an immensely fit man of forty-two, a former field officer who was an expert in all forms of armed and unarmed combat. His firm grip on the prisoner told Misha all of these things.
"Filitov," the