The Russian Endgame

by Allan Topol

  “You have to find a way to come back to Beijing and take the Presidency from him. That would be your revenge.”

  “Believe me, if I ever have the chance, I will.”

  “Opposition is growing against Zhou for his increasingly outrageous behavior. Business colleagues have told me that even Zhou’s brother is upset.”

  She thanked Ping and hung up the phone.

  Her grief was too overwhelming to bear alone. She had to tell someone, but in Paris she had no one. If she called someone in China, they might press her about her location.

  Elizabeth. That’s who she’d call. Elizabeth would not only be comforting, but she’d tell Craig. He was now CIA Director, Mei Ling had read. It would give the Americans one more example of Zhou’s outrageous behavior. One more example of why this venal man should be ousted from his position.

  With tears running down her cheeks, she picked up her cell phone and dialed Elizabeth.

  Please help me, Elizabeth. Help me!

  Washington and Los Angeles

  Craig was in the car riding from Gaithersburg to CIA headquarters when his cell phone rang. It was Elizabeth.

  “Mei Ling just called with horrible news.”

  “What happened?”

  “Zhou arranged her son’s death. Her only child. He was in the navy at sea.”

  Her words cut through Craig like a knife reminding him that Zhou had killed Francesca, his only child. “That seems to be what Zhou is good at—killing children.”

  “She really wants us to find a way to get rid of Zhou.”

  “I’m working on it. Believe me I am. I have my own score to settle with that bastard.”

  He explained to her about Walters’ death, what he had done in Gaithersburg, and the Task Force meeting. “The PGS business may be a way to snare Zhou, but it won’t be easy.”

  “Please, do what you can.”

  “Oh, I will. You can count on that. I just have to survive dealing with that asshole Leeds.”

  “I know what you think of him, but you better take it easy with Leeds at the meeting. You don’t suffer fools easily, but you don’t want to lose credibility with Treadwell. I imagine that he already skewered you today over your little jaunt to Islamabad.”

  “Let’s just say he wasn’t happy.”

  “I’m not sure you want to piss him off twice in the same day.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You know I’m right.”

  “Maybe, I should take two Valium before the meeting.”

  “Either that or a beta blocker.”

  “Okay. Okay. I got it. I’ll behave. How about a nine o’clock dinner this evening at Tosca?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll meet you there.”

  At five minutes to six, Craig entered the Situation Room and looked around. Already seated at the heavily polished conference room table were Air Force General Braddock, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs; Colonel Rhodes from DIA; Ed Grayson, Secretary of Defense, and P. J. Hennessey, the Deputy Secretary of State for National Security Affairs sitting in for Secretary of State Jane Porter, who was in the Middle East. Missing was George Leeds and anyone he might be bringing from the FBI. And of course President Treadwell. The President never entered the room until everyone else was there. That was protocol.

  Orlov was wheeling a black rollerboard suitcase when he entered Angie’s apartment. He saw three large suitcases piled up in the entry way. Angie was dressed in a gray designer suit, hair tied up in a bun.

  “I took your advice,” she said. “I booked a flight to Australia.”

  “When is it?”

  “Eleven thirty this evening. That was the next one. I got a seat in first class. Nonstop to Sydney.”

  “Great. We have time to go to bed. One more fuck for the road.”

  “Do you have my million dollars?” She sounded anxious.

  “Of course,” he patted his black wheelie suitcase.

  “Can I see it?”

  “You don’t trust me.” He sounded annoyed.

  “Please, just a little peek.”

  “To hell with this. I’m taking my money and leaving.”

  He reached for his bag.

  “No. No,” she pleaded. He was standing close to the wall. She leaned against him, forcing his back against the wall. She opened her jacket and pressed her breasts against him. Then she unzipped his pants, reached in and pulled out his cock. The instant she got her hands on it, his prick started to swell.

  “You’re right,” she said, running her fingernails along the shaft. “We have to take care of him first. The money can wait.”

  He left the suitcase in the living room and let her lead him by his cock into the bedroom.

  At ten minutes past six, Craig decided that Leeds was coming late to emphasize his importance. A moment later, the FBI Director filed in with a smug expression on his face, followed by a good-looking young woman carrying a computer. Craig was struck by how short Leeds was. He doubted if the FBI Director broke the five foot line, even with his platform shoes. Leeds’ assistant, whom he introduced as Maureen, dropped the screen along one wall for a PowerPoint presentation. A minute later, Ralph Donovan, the president’s Chief of Staff, entered the room long enough to make sure everyone was there. Then he left to bring the President.

  Treadwell began. “I appreciate all of you coming on short notice. I’m going to let Craig Page, who’s chairing this Task Force, tell you what this is about.

  Craig glanced at Leeds whose lips were pursed together and whose face was turning red.

  “This morning,” Craig said, remaining in his seat, “Paul Walters, an engineer with Rogers Laughton, was found dead along the Potomac just below Great Falls. Walters was a member of Rogers Laughton’s Epsilon Unit which developed the Prompt Global Strike system, PGS. As I’m sure you’re all aware, PGS is our most sensitive and most critical new weapons system.”

  Time to be a team player, Craig thought.

  “George Leeds and I split the investigating work. I went to the company’s headquarters in Gaithersburg. George focused on the Great Falls area and Walters’ house. We want to summarize what we’ve learned. Bottom line: my opinion is that Walters was recruited in Los Angeles this week by a representative of a foreign government. But he did not turn over the CDs with the PGS technology.”

  Craig decided to keep his theories about Orlov, Kuznov, and Zhou to himself. At this point, they were still supposition. “I don’t know who did the recruiting or which government is involved. I believe the recruiter, let’s call him R, used a woman to snare Walters. The old honey pot.”

  Leeds jumped to his feet. “Craig, I’ll take over at this point.”

  Craig held out his hand.

  Leeds signaled to Maureen working the computer. On the screen flashed a picture of a jigsaw puzzle with some pieces together, others scattered.

  “Thus far, I’ve managed to put together a major portion of a complex puzzle.”

  The next slide read, “FACTS.”

  Then a puzzle piece with the words, “DEATH OF PAUL WALTERS.”

  Listening to Leeds, who was aiming his talk at the President, Craig recalled that the FBI Director had no idea Merritt had briefed Treadwell and Craig this morning. And he never called to exchange information before the meeting. Should be real interesting to see how he spins the story.

  “What we know for certain,” Leeds said, “is that Paul Walters drowned early this morning in the Potomac River. His body washed up on rocks half a mile downstream from the point where his car was parked at Great Falls. From the tracks and footprints, we’ve established that Walters met another man in a gazebo at an observation area in the location. No evidence to determine whether Walters was pushed or jumped into the river. No marks on his body to indicate a struggle.”

  “Unfortunately, the story of his death has already been in the media,” the President said irritably. “I hoped you would have imposed a news blackout.”

  “We tried, Mr. President,” Leeds said. “W
e did everything humanly possible. We believe the leak came from the Montgomery County police.”

  Good old George, Craig thought. Always steps right up and blames someone else.

  “Too bad,” the President said, emphasizing his displeasure with a wave of his hand.

  “We’re investigating the source.”

  “Lot of good it’ll do us now. What else do you have?”

  Leeds’ face was becoming flushed. “Meantime, we’ve made certain that the official story is that Walters drowned, and the police are investigating.”

  “Okay. Next.”

  Up on the screen flashed a puzzle piece with the words, “ANGIE RYAN.”

  Leeds continued. “FBI agents obtained two critical facts from Paul Walters’ wife, Claire. First, that Paul returned home Wednesday evening from Los Angeles. Thursday, he opened a Los Angeles bank account. His wife learned this from a voice mail a clerk of the bank left at their home. When she asked Paul about it, he told her it would be convenient because he expected to be spending lots of time in Los Angeles on business. Claire Walters became suspicious and checked through the items he brought back from Los Angeles. In his shaving kit, she found a small piece of paper concealed in a zipper compartment with a Los Angeles phone number. She turned that number over to our agents. We established that it is a cell phone for a woman by the name of Angie Ryan.”

  The next slide appeared. A busty blonde in a skimpy bikini.

  “This is Angie Ryan.” Leeds sounded proud of himself for digging this up. “The photo is from her escort website. We have her address on Wilshire Boulevard. I have agents in Los Angeles prepared to question Angie Ryan, but I asked them to hold up until after this meeting.”

  “You did what?” Craig blurted out.

  “I asked them to hold up…”

  “I heard you, but why?” Craig was raising his voice. “Once Angie saw Walters’ picture on the television, she could have gotten scared or run away. Christ, whoever used her to recruit Walters could have killed her. You’ve got to move up on this woman right now. Interview her and take her into custody.”

  Leeds looked flustered. “I will right after this meeting.”

  Craig couldn’t stand it. “No. Dammit it. Now. Leave the meeting and give the order to your Los Angeles agents.”

  Treadwell was nodding. “Craig’s right.”

  Leeds yanked the cell phone from his pocket and left the room.

  “You’re the best,” Orlov said to Angie.

  Naked, they were on her bed. He was stretched out on his back. Her head was between his legs. She was sucking his cock.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said. “I already came once and you’ve got me hard again.”

  She pulled her head away. “For a million dollars, you’re entitled to the best.”

  “I want to be on top this time.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  She lay on her back and spread her legs. He climbed on top and slid right inside.

  “Oh God. That feels so good,” she cried out. “Yes. Right there. Please. God. Right there.”

  He doubted if she felt a thing. But he didn’t care. He was moving back and forth inside of her getting a rhythm. He was straining. Sweating. The second time was always difficult. Drops of sweat were falling onto her chest. Her eyes were closed. At last, he felt himself coming. As he did, he clutched her neck, grabbing her tightly with his hands.

  She opened her eyes.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” she cried out.

  He was squeezing tighter and tighter. She tried to yell, but he had cut off her vocal cords. She twisted, straining to get away, but he was too strong. She swung her arms but the blows bounced off his body without any impact.

  At last, she was still.

  Calmly, he pulled away from her dead body. He dressed, grabbed his suitcase and left the apartment.

  Riding down in the elevator, he felt satisfied. He had accomplished his mission and had some fun. How could she have been such a fool to think he would be giving her a million dollars? Or even that he had it in the suitcase. Looking away from the doorman, he walked through the double glass doors onto Wilshire Blvd. toward his car parked a block away. As he did, two unmarked black sedans pulled up in front of Angie’s building. Four men jumped out of each. Orlov heard one shout to the doorman, “FBI. Move aside.”

  You’re a little late, Orlov thought

  After placing the call to Los Angeles, Leeds returned to the Situation Room.

  “FBI agents are on the way,” he said meekly and sat down.

  General Braddock, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, asked Craig, “How certain are you that Walters didn’t turn over the CDs with PGS?”

  Craig replied, “Let me show you what I base this conclusion on.”

  He put on the screen the video of Walters in the vault at Rogers Laughton which Merritt had shown him and Treadwell this morning.

  At the end, Braddock said, “I’m satisfied.”

  Hennessey interjected. “Which government do you believe is behind this?”

  “That is the sixty-four thousand dollar question. Unfortunately,

  I have no evidence pointing to anyone.”

  Hennessey followed up. “You think it’s Iran?”

  “Certainly a good candidate.”

  “Let me play the devil’s advocate,” Hennessey said. “Isn’t it possible that all of this involved only Walters’ love life? A middle-aged man having a fling. So before we go off on a witch hunt that damages our foreign relations, shouldn’t we eliminate that possibility?”

  Craig couldn’t believe Hennessey. This was typical State Department bullshit.

  Calmly, Craig replied, “The presence of a second man at Great Falls negates the romance-only possibility.”

  “That makes sense,” Treadwell said. “But let’s be fair to Craig. He hasn’t even had this for twelve hours.”

  Leeds’ cell phone rang with a piercing noise. All eyes turned toward the FBI Director.

  Craig heard him say in a pathetic voice, “Yes… Yes… I understand… Strangled… body still warm. Get prints and forward them to Washington.” He hung up the phone and said sheepishly, “Angie is dead.”

  That was too much for Craig. His promise to Elizabeth went out the window. Leeds’ stupidity had cost them their only hope for blowing this open. He shot to his feet and screamed at Leeds. “You fucking idiot. How could you have done this? You’re so busy puffing yourself up with your cute little slide presentation, with pieces to a puzzle and ass-kissing the president that you didn’t do your job.”

  The president was on his feet as well. The other seemed stunned.

  “That’s enough, Craig,” Treadwell said. “Angie’s dead. We’ll move on from here. Anyone have anything else?”

  No one said a word.

  “Good, we’re finished,” Treadwell said.

  The president left first, heading toward the Oval Office. Craig raced up and fell in alongside. “Could I please talk with you privately,” he said in a calm voice.

  Treadwell looked angry. “To apologize for your behavior?”

  “That and to tell you some things about the Walters matter that I couldn’t say in the meeting.”

  “Okay. Meet me upstairs in the living quarters in thirty minutes.”

  While waiting to go upstairs, Craig called Betty and told her what had happened in the meeting. At the end he added, “When the FBI gets those prints, call someone over there and have them forward the prints to you.”

  “You figure they’ll be a match for Orlov?”

  “I’d bet my house on it. I just want confirmation.”

  “Will do. And I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Good. I’m afraid I made an enemy for life.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Leeds never liked you before this. He’ll destroy you if he has the chance.”

  Washington

  Craig found the president in the White House living quarters,

  sitting on a sofa, his sh
oes off, a drink in his hand. “Fix yourself one,” Treadwell said, pointing to the bottle of McCallum’s on the

  credenza. “You need it.”

  Craig poured two fingers of scotch in a glass and added some ice.

  “You better start with the apology,” the president said sternly.

  Craig took a belt of scotch. He felt like a school boy called to task by the teacher. “I was horribly wrong, Mr. President, to scream at Leeds that way. Regardless of what happened, there was no justification for what I did.”

  “I hope you mean it. Really, I do. For your sake. And for the sake of our relationship.”

  “I do. It will never happen again. I assure you.”

  “You mean I don’t have to sign you up for anger management counseling?”

  Treadwell smiled.

  That was good, Craig thought. “No sir. That won’t be necessary.”

  “Look, I know Leeds is an ass. I’m appalled by what happened today. If I could fire him, I would immediately. But for political reasons, I can’t. I’m stuck with him for this term. I also know you didn’t like the idea of the Task Force, but I have to build a consensus on tough issues like this. “

  “I understand.”

  “And one other thing I want you to understand is that if you and I are going to work together, you’ll have to level with me. Tell me what you’re thinking and what you’re doing. Will you be able to do that?”

  “Absolutely. I do want to have that kind of relationship with you.”

  “Okay. I’ll let the trip to Pakistan go, but I won’t do it again. And I’m willing to put your behavior at the meeting behind us.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “First, the Walters matter. I’m waiting for fingerprint ID, but I’m confident Orlov killed Angie.”

  “Based on what?”

  “Strangling is part of his MO. He did it to the clerk in Pittsburgh in connection with the Dalton assassination.

  Treadwell sighed deeply, “If you’re right, this confirms that we’re dealing with the Orlov, Kuznov, Zhou group again.”