Ivana agreed. She was no longer a “package” to be moved about at the whim of others. Further, the Americans had presented her with a good sum of Euros for her cooperation. But to date, of all the Americans she had met, only Bill Hamm appealed to her.
Happily he had been chosen to escort her to her new room.
Ivana was bubbly. Her hair was blond again. It was short, but shaped well to enhance the pleasant curve of her neck. She wore fitted jeans, topped by a quilted lavender jacket that hugged her waist. And she was pleased to see that Bill approved of her outfit!
Bill stopped at the gilded entrance of the hotel.
“Ivana, I have to go. I guess this is goodbye.”
Ivana tossed her head. A cold breeze brightened her cheeks as she shivered.
“No, it’s too cold. I cannot say goodbye properly here.”
She pulled him into the lobby. It was crowded, a convention, but she heard no English, only German. For a moment she feared that he was uncomfortable. No, Bill was at ease in that language.
Good, she wanted him relaxed.
“Bill, there are too many people here. Can you escort me up to my room?”
They rode the elevator up in silence.
***
At the door to her room, Ivana paused.
“Bill, thank you for everything. Won’t you? ...”
She did not wait for a response. She threw her arms around his neck, pressed her body against his, and kissed him. At the shock of those moist lips, and the softness of her chest, he held tight and kissed back.
After a moment she drew free.
“Bill, come inside, I ... ”
He looked into her warm blue eyes. She was most desirable. He took a deep breath.
“Ivana, you are beautiful, but I cannot. Don’t make this more difficult for me.”
She frowned in disbelief.
“You mean that person, Jeannine?”
He nodded.
Ivana frowned. She turned into her room.
Somehow she managed to slam the heavy door.
***
Inside, the smell of a cigarette assailed Ivana. Instantly, Bill was forgotten. She looked about in terror.
Who?
Gustav stepped from the shadows.
Ivana exhaled. Color returned to her cheeks. She found her voice.
“Father, then it was you that killed ... ”
He nodded.
“Daughter, that beast will never bother you again.”
***
The hour was late when Bill Hamm returned to the Vienna office. No matter, a smiling Chief was there to greet him.
“Congratulations, Bill, you’re a damned hero. The press has been all over my butt for interviews, and Sky Channel wants to do a video piece on you.”
Bill started to answer, but the Chief continued.
“Unfortunately, I think you know that with this publicity, your covert days will be over.”
The Chief’s smile disappeared.
“Also, Bill, a storm is brewing. Some higher ups at the FBI and Homeland Security are desperate to blame anyone for their screw up at the Unity Pavilion. They want to know why you and Elena Krkova were running a domestic operation. They say the CIA had no business running an ‘OP’ in the States.”
“But the Czech side of the ‘OP’ was our business. Everything flowed from that.”
“Exactly. You know that and I know that, and we both know they are trying to cover their butts. I’m giving you a heads up, that’s all. The Director is on our side. Hell, those guys in Homeland Security can’t even use the term ‘War on Terror.’ Everything is some damned ‘incident.’”
“And I kept everybody, you, the FBI and Secret Service, informed at all times. The raid at Warrenton was run by the FBI.”
“Of course. But if you have any memos or notes so I can build a paper trail, it would help me.”
“You know I don’t work that way, memos and all.”
The Chief answered with a shrug.
“Right. Look, this is your hour. Enjoy the limelight.”
He paused.
“But you should clear your interviews with me.”
Bill waited a moment, then spoke.
“If I can’t work covert ops, I’m not sure I’ll stay with the Agency. I have somebody waiting for me Stateside. She won’t wait forever.”
The Chief looked down at his desk.
“That might be a good idea for all of us.”
Bill left in silence, his lips parted in a grim smile.
***
******
Chapter 55
Epilogue
Both Homeland Security and the FBI invoked the purported domestic operation by the CIA to blame that agency for the disaster at Front Royal, Virginia. Bill Hamm’s reassignment by the Agency took the pressure off of his immediate superior, but only confirmed to a compliant media that the accusations were well-founded.
The Secretary of Homeland Security dubbed the events at Front Royal the “Unity Pavilion Incident.” Tragically, almost three hundred Americans died in that “incident,” including an entire squad of battle-ready marines, numerous police and a number of Secret Service agents. Among the dead were a dozen Hollywood celebrities, numerous “guests,” several members of congress, a governor, and well over one hundred “spectators.”
In contrast, in their war on the Great Satan, the jihadists lost twenty men.
The disaster would have been many times more deadly if the untested Novichok-H had been more volatile, had a longer half-life, and not been weakened by the alkaline water with a high iron content from the newly-drilled well that supplied the pavilion. Also, without Xolak and the intervention of Peter Zeleny and Aileen Harris, the deaths among the spectators would have more than doubled.
Roger Dixon died in the best tradition of the Secret Service. He gave his life to protect his president, and not in vain. By killing Quanit Ibn Husayn, he gained precious minutes for the president’s evacuation to safety. Roger (posthumously) and Harry Thomas, who took charge of the evacuation, were honored in a brief ceremony at the White House. Harry Thomas is now head of the presidential detail.
Neither Quanit Ibn Husayn, killed by Roger Dixon, or Hassan Ibn Ali, killed by Bill Hamm, had time to voice his final praise, Allahu akbar, at death. Each perished before the thought could be formed.
Ryan Associates was awarded several contracts by the CIA, but Jeannine Ryan elected to keep the company small. Aileen Harris remains with her as a minority owner. She and Mary Catherine still reside in Bethesda with Aileen’s mother.
Bill Hamm occupies a desk at Langley. He still hopes to obtain an assignment overseas. He and Jeannine remain close, but because of professional commitments their future together remains uncertain.
Anne Simek successfully defended her doctoral thesis in philosophy, “Dietrich von Hildebrand, Catholics and the Nazi Persecution,” in Chicago. Afterwards, Anne adopted the religion of her deceased mother. She was baptized Catholic at the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, DC. There she and Peter Zeleny were wed in the Czech chapel under the image of Our Lady of Hostyn inscribed, ZŮSTAŇ MATKOU LIDU SVÉMU, “Remain a mother to your people.”
Jim Harrigan left the Duck Police Department, took a short course in Real Estate, and joined Mila at Patek reality. Mila received her United States Citizenship. They married shortly after. Jim is grateful that his wife does not call herself “Harriganova.” Mila pretends to like doughnuts.
In an example of justice trumping truth, Gustav Slavik, who tried to kill Vaclav Pokorny but failed, was convicted of his murder. He pled out and received life with possibility of parole. He is incarcerated in a close security facility in Greene County, North Carolina.
Ivana Novotna moved to the United States to be near her father. She enjoys a peaceful life in Goldsboro, North Carolina. She visits Gustav regularly. Each time she takes him a supply of Petra cigarettes.
Scot Henderson stayed with the Fish and Wildlife Service in
North Carolina. He continues to monitor the deaths, accidental or otherwise, of Red Wolves on the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge.
The death of Larry Hodges at the FDA was ascribed to natural causes. Ultimately, after negotiations with Hus-Kinetika, the composition of Xolak was changed back to its pre-2002 form. The FDA has approved it for the American market.
Jack Cannon joined the Prince William County Police Department. His freezer is still filled with venison.
Monica Wilson remarried. She has a hard time accepting that Bill Jones was Masoud.
Tom Fletcher and Elena Krkova remained with the CIA. They work out of Vienna, Austria.
Michal Pacak returned to Brno. He and Elena Krkova correspond occasionally.
The numbered bank accounts died with Karel Moravec. Erik Holub never received his final payment. After extradition to the U. S. he received a life sentence in a Federal prison.
Shortly after the tragedy at Front Royal, Abdul Rahman was summoned to Tehran. He has not been seen or heard from since.
***
******
Envoi
One year later
They were fortunate to find a parking space among the compact cars parked diagonally on the narrow street of the staré město, Prague’s “Old Town.” From the front seat, the young man and his wife watched anxiously as the gray-haired elder squeezed out the rear door without, somehow, marring the adjacent Fiat.
The old man motioned the couple to remain seated.
His was a journey to be made alone.
The street was one-way, and there was no traffic. That was fortunate, for he started across without looking in either direction. Slightly stooped, he stumbled once on the uneven stones, but caught himself and successfully reached the narrow sidewalk opposite.
He stood for a moment and looked at the stark unadorned wall of the old church in front of him. Two small windows were topped by a large semicircular one. The latter reminded him of the window under the angled attic walls of his parents’ house.
For a moment, he seemed to lose his purpose, and his eyes roved about, as if fearing the approach of an enemy. Then he focused again, and walked quickly down the street.
He entered a double doorway.
No this cannot be it! He stared about, bewildered at the bright foyer.
A kind hotel concierge understood his confusion and came to his aid.
“Sir, there have been renovations. This is a hotel now. Come with me, I know where you wish to go. I’ll take you there.”
Numb, he followed his guide to the basement. They were in a narrow corridor.
At once, he knew the way.
Eyes closed, he counted the steps and stopped. He was in front of a door.
He looked in. It was his cell, but it was not the same. The half-window, now curtained, let light in from the street above. Double-decker clean cots occupied the wall to his left.
It was peaceful. There were no strident voices.
And the ceiling was no longer Pink!
He stood a moment in silent wonder.
A voice broke into his thoughts.
“Sir, would you like to see the prison cell where our president Vaclav Havel was held, ‘P6.’ It is this way.”
He shook his head, “No.” He added.
“Thank you, but this is sufficient. I do not wish to see more.”
The concierge nodded and led him back up to the entrance.
He stepped out onto Bartolomejska Street. The sun was shining.
He lowered his head. For the first time in many years, Havel Simek voiced a silent prayer.
“Děkuji Bohu, že jsem svobodný. ‘Thank you God, that I am free.’”
He stepped briskly to the car and nodded to his son in law, the driver.
“We can go now. It is finished.”
From the passenger side, Anne Simek Zeleny smiled.
Peter put the car in gear, backed out, and pulled away.
***
******
About the Author
James E. Mosimann is a retired biostatistician who spent many years at the Computer Division of the National Institutes of Health. He has a Ph. D. in Zoology from the University of Michigan, and a Masters in Biostatistics from the Johns Hopkins University. After NIH, he joined the Office of Research Integrity of the Public Health Service, where he was a scientist-investigator for cases of research misconduct. He has numerous publications and one text. This is his third novel.
He and his wife, Barbara Jean, live in Virginia. They have eight children, all adult.
Author’s Note
This is the third book in a series that follows the activities of Jeannine Ryan, a specialist in numerical forensics. Like the first, it was a family project. Thanks again to my wife for her support and to my adult children for their assistance. As before, Tom’s many hours of careful reading and editing significantly improved the manuscript, as did comments by Joseph, John, Theresa, Michelle, Mary and Madeleine. Finally Kateri, in addition to her comments, provided the cover graphics and design.
The village of Dethorens is imaginary, as also are Hus-Kinetika and its product, Xolak. While the OPCW data is from their website, Novichok-H and its Czech originator are fictional and invented for this tale. Likewise, Gustav’s association with the Cellules Communistes Combattantes is imaginary, Jeannine Ryan’s exploits in the first three novels (Misconduct’s Deadly Denial, The Assassin Chip and The Prague Plot) will continue in the title below:
The Carolina Coup.
The Prague Plot: The Cold War Meets the Jihad (Jeannine Ryan Series Book 3) Page 38
