Gates held up both hands, palms facing Chris, as he came closer.
“You have nothing to fear,” Gates said.
Chris nodded, then put his pistol back in his pocket. Smiling, he extended his hand.
“What are you doing down here, Bryan?”
“I’ve come across some information that somebody needs to know,” Bryan said. “And I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”
Half an hour later Chris took Bryan to the fort museum. Bob and Jake were there, and one of them had just said something funny, because both men were laughing.
“Hey, Chris, what’s up?” Bob asked when Chris came in. “Who’s that with you?”
“This is Bryan Gates, an old friend of mine from the pre-O days. He has an article from Pravda that I think you should read.
“Pravda? Is it in Russian?”
“Yes,” Chris said. “But Bryan and I both read Russian.”
“Then read it to us.”
Chris, who was carrying the article, read it to them.
“Do either of you have any insight into the article?” Jake asked, after Chris read it.
“My source is convinced that this was not a suicide,” Bryan said. “My source believes that Shaporin was murdered, but Shaporin told him, before he died, that the warheads are missing.”
“According to the article, the computer says they were accounted for,” Bob said.
Jake chuckled. “Ask Willie how hard it is to change the computer.”
“Yes, I guess you have a point there,” Bob said.
“Shaporin was convinced the computer program was wrong because he kept a hard copy count of the warheads in his charge, and he found five missing. He told my source that he had gone to his commander with it, and his commander brushed him off.”
“Brushed him off because he didn’t believe him?” Bob asked.
“Perhaps. But Shaporin thought it might be because his commander might have had a hand in it. He thinks they were deliberately taken from the inventory.”
“And you think Shaporin’s commander plans to sell those weapons?” Jake said.
“I think he has already sold them.”
“To who? To Ohmshidi?”
What do you know of a man named Warren Sorroto?” Bryan asked.
“Sorroto? Yeah, I’ve heard of him, who hasn’t?” Bob replied. “Gregoire used to call him a ‘spooky dude,’ I believe. He’s a very wealthy man who financed socialist groups, and some say he had a lot to do with getting Ohmshidi elected in the first place.”
“He had more than just a lot to do with it,” Bryan said. “Ohmshidi would have never been elected if it hadn’t been for Sorroto.”
“Is he that much of a left winger?” Jake asked.
Bryan shook his head. “To tell the truth, I don’t think he really has any political position other than his own. From what I’ve been able to learn, he supported Ohmshidi because he knew that Ohmshidi would destroy the country, and he was counting on that.”
“Why in heavens name would anyone want the country destroyed?”
“He made over a hundred billion dollars in the collapse. And now he wants all remaining vestiges destroyed so he can move in and pick up the pieces. That’s why I think he is the one who is buying, or perhaps has already bought, five nukes from Russia.”
“Are you telling me that Russia would sell nukes to an individual?” Jake asked.
“Remember, this isn’t the Russian government,” Bryan said. “This is a person, or some persons within the government, who have access to the weapons, and are willing to sell them if they are paid enough money. And believe me, Sorroto has enough money.”
“What is your level of confidence in this information?” Chris asked.
“I’d say point niner niner,” Bryan replied. “Considering my source.”
“Yes, you keep talking about your source. But you haven’t given him a name yet,” Jake said.
“I’m quite sure that the name won’t mean anything to you,” Bryan said. “But I’m equally sure that it will mean something to Chris. My source is Aleksandr Mironov.”
“Damn,” Chris said. “That’s a pretty good source.”
“I take it, you know this, Aleksandr Mironov?” Bob asked.
“Yes, I know him. Under the old Soviet regime he was on their United Nations staff, but that was just his cover. He was actually a general in the KGB,” Chris said. “What does he tell you, Bryan?”
“Shaporin, the man who the newspaper article says committed suicide, was Mironov’s nephew. According to Mironov, Shaporin came to him with this tale, less than two weeks before he died.”
“Does he know who has the weapons now? Or, how they are being transported?” Jake asked.
“He either didn’t know, or he wouldn’t say,” Bryan said. “But, Chris, he wants you to meet with someone that you know.”
“Who?” Chris asked.
“Nicolai Petrovitch.”
“Damn,” Chris said with a little chuckle. “It’s been a long time since Nicolai and I butted heads.”
“Butted heads?” Bob asked.
“We were in the same business, but on opposite sides. I was CIA, he was KGB.”
“Does he want to meet Chris here?” Jake asked.
“No, he wants to meet in Russia,” Bryan said.
“Chris, I don’t know,” Bob said. “I mean, if you guys were enemies for all those years, how do you know you can trust him?”
“I’m certain I can trust him,” Chris said. “In our business, people like Nicolai and I have done a lot of things that the average person may consider immoral—and perhaps they are. But among ourselves, we do have a very strong code of conduct.”
“So you are saying you want to go.”
“It’s more than I want to go, Bob. I’ve got to go. If it is Sorroto we are talking about, and if he gets his hands on these weapons, I don’t have the slightest doubt but that he will detonate one of them in Mobile. If he really is planning on picking up the pieces, then he is going to want the whole continent as weak as he can make it and, that means he is going to have to get rid of us, if he can.”
“He’s right, Bob. If there is any way we can stop those nukes from getting over here, we’re going to have to do it,” Jake said.
“All right,” Bob said. “What will you need?”
“Money to make the trip, then I’ll need some walking around money once I get there.”
“How much money?”
“Fifty thousand rubles should do it. That’s just a little over fifteen hundred dollars.”
“We don’t have any rubles, but we have Swiss Francs.”
“I’ll get Willie to look up the exchange,” Jake said.
“It’s about the same,” Chris said. “Fifteen hundred Swiss Francs will take of it. Plus airfare over there and back.”
“Sheri Jack is handling our money,” Bob said. “I’ll get her right on it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Chris, why do you have to make the trip?” Kathy asked that evening.
“I don’t know anyone else, other than perhaps Bryan, who could do what has to be done.”
“Why doesn’t Bryan go?”
“Because Nicolai asked for me, specifically.
“What if it is a trick?” Kathy asked.
“What kind of trick? What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you and this man Nicolai on different sides? Aren’t you enemies?”
Chris shook his head. “Not any more. There is no Soviet Union, and there is no United States. Nicolai and I are dinosaurs from another age.”
“I’m frightened for you.”
Chris laughed. “Ha! You are frightened for me? Are you not the same woman who robbed a dozen banks with me?”
“That was different.”
“What was different about it?”
“I was with you then. If anything had happened to you, it probably would have happened to me as well. It’s easier to share danger with someone you love, t
han to worry about them when they are far away and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“With someone you love?” Chris asked.
Kathy held up her hand. “I know, I know, we don’t have that kind of relationship. You were quite clear about it when we first got together. It was just going to be a symbiotic relationship of mutual need and sharing. And I promise you, I won’t mention it again.”
“Why not?” Chris said, putting his arms around her. “I sort of like the idea.”
Their lips met in a deep kiss.
“That was quite a kiss good-bye,” Chris said.
“That wasn’t good-bye,” Kathy said.
“It has to be. I’m leaving in the morning.”
“Oh, you can still go,” Kathy said. She smiled at him, then, taking him by the hand, started toward the bedroom. “I just have a better way of telling you good-bye, is all.”
Taney County
Sorroto was watching the news on America Enlightened Truth Television.
“. . . in the southern part of Arkansas. The incident occurred two days ago when a group of rebellious infidels who have yet to accept the way of the Holy Path ambushed six members of the State Protective Service. The rebels opened fire, without warning, killing the six peace-loving SPS members, whose presence was only to ensure tranquility, and to make certain that the rights of the Muslim followers are protected.
“Our Glorious Leader, President for Life Ohmshidi, may he be blessed by Allah, has said that he will not allow rebel groups such as this one, to harass our people. Here is our Glorious Leader, President for Life Ohmshidi, may he be blessed by Allah, delivering a statement from the White House.”
Ohmshidi appeared on screen.
“All praise be to Allah, the merciful. Whomsoever Allah guides there is none to misguide, and whomsoever Allah misguides there is none to guide. You must live your life in accordance with the Moqaddas Sirata, the Holy Path. Those who do will be blessed. Those who do not will be damned,” Ohmshidi began.
“Within the past few days, the infidels among us, heathens who refuse to join with the majority in creating a holy nation of peace, have violated good order by holding illegal demonstrations, and even going so far as to take up arms against us. This is a very bold step, and it is something that I will not allow.
“Recently, many of the misguided college students, who were holding protest rallies, paid the ultimate price when they learned the wrath of Allah. More than two thousand students, who were illegally gathered at the assembly halls of a dozen universities across the country, were killed when the ventilations systems in the halls where they were meeting malfunctioned, emitting toxic fumes. It is now well understood that Allah smiles upon me, and looks with much disfavor upon any who would oppose me.
“I have ordered National Leader Reed Franken to put all the SPS on alert, ready to defend itself against any further attacks. And I caution anyone who hears this message not to think you can attack Moqaddas Sirata with impunity.”
Ohmshidi clasped his hands together, prayer-like, and bowed his head.
“All praise be to Allah, the merciful.
Whomsoever Allah guides there is none to misguide, and whomsoever Allah misguides there is none to guide. You must live your life in accordance with the Moqaddas Sirata, the Holy Path. Those who do will be blessed. Those who do not will be damned.”
Sorroto turned off the TV, and decided it was about time he paid Ohmshidi a visit. He picked up the telephone intending to call, but he changed his mind. If he called, Ohmshidi might construe that as Sorroto asking to see him. In order to make certain that Ohmshidi would never forget his station, relative to Sorroto, Sorroto would show up in Washington, or Muslimabad, or whatever in hell Ohmshidi was calling it, with no prior announcement. But Sorroto would not go to the White House to meet Ohmshidi. He would demand that Ohmshidi come to him.
Muslimabad
When Warren Sorroto arrived in Muslimabad, he hired a limousine to take him to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel.
“Yes, sir?” the desk clerk said, greeting him deferentially.
“I’ll have the Oriental Suite,” Sorroto said.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, but that suite is occupied.”
“Tell them you are sorry, but you made a mistake. Give them a double refund, and offer them their choice of any other suite in the hotel for free.”
The hotel clerk started to protest, but, even though he had never met Sorroto, he knew that this was no ordinary customer. “Yes sir,” he said, picking up the phone.
Two hours later Sorroto was standing at one of the round windows, looking out toward the water when the telephone rang.
“Yes?”
“He is here, Mr. Sorroto.”
“Tell him he may come up,” Sorroto said. “Alone.”
“But he goes nowhere without his bodyguards.”
“He will either come here alone, or he can return to the White House,” Sorroto said. “I really don’t care which. But if he returns to the White House without seeing me, he will pay a penalty.”
There was a pause at the end of the line, then the caller returned. “He’ll be right up, Mr. Sorroto.”
Sorroto hung up the phone without answering. He was preparing himself a martini when he heard the doorbell. Picking up a remote device he pointed it toward the door and pushed the button. The electric lock buzzed, and the door was pushed open. Ohmshidi came in.
“Would you like a drink?” Sorroto asked.
“Alcohol is banned in the American Islamic Republic of Enlightenment,” Ohmshidi said.
“Bullshit. I know you drink, but have it your own way,” Sorroto said. He poured his drink into a shaker. “For me, a vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred,” he added with a smile. When Ohmshidi made no response, Sorroto looked over at him. “Bond, James Bond.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“How the hell did you ever get elected president, knowing so little about the culture and history of this country? Never mind, you weren’t elected. I appointed you.” Sorroto capped off his comment by taking a swallow of his drink.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Ohmshidi replied. “Nobody has enough power to appoint a president.”
“Really? Would you like me to demonstrate that power by removing you from office and putting someone else in?”
“No, no, I . . . uh . . . am very grateful for your support.”
“Yes, I would think so.” Sorroto took another drink and continued to stare at Ohmshidi, who was beginning to show his unease.
“Sit down,” Sorroto said. It wasn’t a request, it was an order, and Ohmshidi sat, quickly.
“What did you want with me?” Ohmshidi asked.
“I saw the news on television as to how more than two thousand students were holding meetings to demonstrate against you.”
“Yes, but they were, uh, taken care of by Allah.”
“Don’t give me any of your bullshit, Ohmshidi. I know damn well you killed them.”
“You did not think that I would allow such a thing as student protests to go unchallenged, did you? If it got out of hand it could spread and cause more problems.”
“Yeah,” Sorroto said. “Look, I’m not condemning you. You did what you had to do.”
“Yes,” Ohmshidi said with a sigh of relief. “I am glad that you understand.”
“You are also aware, are you not, that resistance to your government is growing all across the South?” Sorroto asked.
“A few isolated incidents here and there,” Ohmshidi said. “It’s certainly not anything I can’t handle. I have spoken with National Leader Franken about it.”
“Franken,” Sorroto said, making a scoffing sound. “Why you appointed that incompetent fool as head of the SPS, I’ll never know.”
“I believe that the National Leader will have little difficulty in dealing with these few upstarts.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Never underestimate a person’s determination to be free.”
; “Oh, I think that isn’t a problem,” Ohmshidi said. “I’m told that over ninety percent of the population has converted to Islam so that they can buy goods and services. And as long as I control that, I can keep control over everything.”
“I think ninety percent is a vast overestimation. I would say that it is more like sixty percent, and damn few of those are real.”
Ohmshidi smiled. “You don’t understand. I don’t care whether they are real or not. All that is important now is that I have control over them. And as long as I control such things as food, fuel, electricity, and the press, I do have control over them.”
“Like I said, Ohmshidi, don’t underestimate a person’s determination to be free.”
“Why are you so concerned about this, anyway? I know that all of your money is in offshore accounts. What difference does it make to you what happens here?”
“It makes a difference to me, because I have plans for this country’s future.”
Ohmshidi’s face reflected an expression of concern.
“You have plans for this country’s future?”
“Yes.”
“Do your plans include me?”
“Oh yes, they most definitely include you,” Sorroto said. “I wouldn’t have made you president in the first place, if I didn’t want to use you.”
“Use me?”
“Yes, Ohmshidi. I intend to use you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Fort Morgan
Bob was sitting at his computer. For a moment he drummed his fingers on the desk, creating a drum cadence, then, putting his fingers back on the keyboard he resumed his writing.
Langley pulled his long gun out of the saddle holster, and started walking into the canyon, leading his horse. The horse’s hooves fell sharply on the stone floor, and echoed loudly back from the canyon walls. The canyon made a forty-five degree turn to the left just in front of him, so he stopped. Right before he got to the turn he slapped his horse on the rump and sent it on through.
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