The 14th Colony_A Novel

by Steve Berry

  Her phone rang again.

  Luke.

  Finally.

  She answered and a woman’s voice greeted her.

  “My name is Sue Begyn. My father is Lawrence Begyn. Luke Daniels came to talk to him.”

  Nothing about this seemed good. “How do you have Luke’s phone?”

  “He’s been hurt. I finally managed to get his phone from a nurse. You were the last call he made, so I just redialed. Do you know Luke?”

  Dread swept through her.

  “I’m his boss. Tell me where you are.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  Zorin felt better. They’d managed to steal Malone’s car and make their way into DC without incident. Dawn had arrived with weak sunlight and a gusty wind driving leaden clouds in low. They’d removed all five weapons and any electrical evidence that the bombs had ever been in the shelter. On the trip into town he’d explained to Kelly what had happened at the dacha, leaving out nothing about the American, Malone. Kelly had then told him some astonishing information, and he could now easily understand how Andropov had been excited about a historical tidbit from an obscure American Revolutionary War society, stumbled upon forty years ago by an astute Soviet attaché.

  A truth, like Kelly had said, that people had simply forgotten.

  They’d parked in a garage adjacent to Union Station among a zillion other cars. Hopefully, no one was looking for theirs or, if they were, they would not think to check there. Inside its trunk lay four RA-115s, ready to be activated. An idea had occurred to him back at the shelter, a way to divert attention and occupy the Americans, tossing them one last false feeling of security.

  Before finding an open diner, they’d scouted St. John’s Church and discovered something astonishing. The building was closed for renovations and had been for the past year, an extensive remodeling that involved scaffolding stretching up to the top of its bell tower. No services were being held there today. Kelly had worried about that, thinking they would have to make their entrance early before people arrived. Now that would not be necessary, the entire perimeter enclosed by a tall temporary fence. Once past that he should not be disturbed. The lack of anyone around the site had also offered an opportunity to hide, among the debris, the nylon bag they’d retrieved from the rental car.

  Lafayette Park sat just across the street from the church. Past that stood the White House, only three hundred meters away. The impressive building had been lit in the early morning, readying itself for a new president to assume office. Finished with their survey, they’d quickly retreated several blocks away to the diner and ordered breakfast, which had just been delivered.

  “There’s something else we must discuss,” Kelly said, his voice low.

  The tables were rapidly filling with customers straining to be waited on. Zorin caught snatches of tourist conversations, political debates, and gossip. Once again he was surrounded by the main adversary. But this was no ordinary Sunday morning. History was about to be made.

  And in more ways than one.

  He worked on his eggs, sausage, and toast.

  “We won’t be leaving here today, will we?” Kelly asked, his voice low.

  He stared up at his comrade. No purpose would be served by lying. “I won’t.”

  “From the moment I opened the door and saw you,” Kelly said, “I knew that my time had come, too. Then that incident at my house told me things. I’m too old to go on the run, looking over my shoulder every second. Wondering if today is the day they finally find me.”

  He understood that paranoia. Every foreign service officer experienced it. Living a lie came with the liability of the truth. But there’d always been a bailout. If exposed, or in trouble, all you had to do was make it back home to the USSR.

  But that option no longer existed.

  “We have nowhere to go,” he muttered.

  Kelly nodded. “No one wants us, Aleksandr. We are all that’s left of what once existed.”

  He thought back to military school, then the KGB training center. Never then would he have imagined that he would be the last man standing.

  “I realized,” Kelly said, “that this was a one-way mission for you. I want you to know that it’s a one-way ticket for me, too. When it goes, I’ll go with it.”

  “You are a good and loyal officer.”

  “I was born into the KGB,” Kelly said. “My parents were both officers and they raised me to be one. I’ve known no other life, though I’ve lived a fiction for a long, long time.”

  He’d also lived that contradiction.

  Which was not good.

  He was surprisingly hungry, the diner filled with an inviting smell of brewing coffee. So he motioned to the waitress that he’d like another order.

  Kelly smiled. “The condemned always seem to be able to eat.”

  “Now I understand why. There’s a peace in knowing that it will all soon be over.”

  “My one regret,” Kelly said, “is that I never married. I would have liked to have experienced that.”

  “My wife was a good woman who died far too young. But now I’m glad she’s gone. I might not have had the courage to do what must be done, if she still lived.”

  Then there was Anya.

  He should call and say goodbye. He’d been putting that off, knowing that he could not tell her the truth. She’d volunteered to look for the journal. The fact that it was now irrelevant mattered, and she should be told. He still carried the cell phone he’d acquired in Irkutsk, switched on the past few hours, but she’d not, as yet, tried to contact him either.

  “You brought all five for a reason,” Kelly said.

  That he had, and one rested at his feet, beneath the table, safe inside its stylish aluminum case.

  “It’s time you tell me why.”

  “We need to ensure that the Americans are occupied,” he said. “Now that I know your intentions, there is something you can do to ensure our success. A penultimate surprise for the main adversary.”

  Kelly seemed to like that. “Tell me.”

  * * *

  Cassiopeia walked into the Blue Room. She and Cotton had come from Virginia straight here, to the White House. The oval-shaped space lived up to its name, adorned with striking blue carpets and matching draperies. Doors opened into adjacent rooms and another set with glass overlooked the south lawn where a portion of the Rose Garden could be seen, along with magnolia trees veining a pale sun. The furniture had been removed, replaced with rows of cushioned chairs facing a podium before the room’s only fireplace. A television camera stood opposite the podium near the exterior doors. No one was inside, all of the doorways blocked by velvet ropes.

  “A lot will happen in here soon.”

  She turned and saw Danny Daniels.

  “We didn’t get to say much when you were here a few hours ago,” he said.

  “It’s good to see you again,” she said.

  The president stepped beside her.

  “Cotton is speaking with Edwin,” she said. “I decided to come have a look.”

  “It’s an impressive space. Today it will usher in a new president.”

  “You don’t sound excited.”

  “I’ll miss this job.”

  “And your plans for the future?”

  She knew about him and Stephanie, one of a handful who were privy to the truth. That closed circle included only the president, the First Lady, and Edwin Davis. She’d gained entry by accident through another crisis a few months ago. Cotton had sensed she knew something, but she’d resisted all his efforts at learning more. If nothing else, she could definitely keep a secret.

  “Pauline and I have said our goodbyes. We’ll be moving on from each other,” he said to her, his voice barely a whisper. “But like they say, you don’t need a parachute to skydive. You need a parachute to skydive twice.”

  “You always could place things in their proper perspective. I’ll miss that.”

  He shrugged. “Nostalgia ain’t what it used to be.�
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  “Cotton’s pretty pissed at himself.”

  “It’s not his fault Zorin decided to blow his way out. The question is, do we have anything to be afraid of?”

  On arrival they’d been told that the Secret Service had swept the bunker for radiation, not detecting enough to draw any conclusions. They’d also been told that Luke Daniels had been hurt and was in the hospital.

  “Any word on Luke?” she asked.

  “Stephanie’s there. We should hear something shortly.”

  She watched him as he studied the empty room. “Does the swearing-in take long?”

  He shook his head. “The chief justice will administer the oath, first to the vice president, then the president. We all stand there and gawk for the cameras. Fifteen to twenty minutes tops. No speeches. That’s all for tomorrow and the public ceremony outside the Capitol. Half hour and we’re clear. But Fox plans to hang around a little longer.”

  She had to say, “We still have no concrete evidence that nukes are here.”

  “They are. I can feel it.”

  Her instincts were likewise pricked.

  “We’ll need you here to keep a watch,” he said. “You and Cotton are the only ones who can positively ID Zorin and Kelly.”

  They’d both snuck a peek through the window on Prince Edward Island.

  “Are you going back to Tennessee tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “Back home.”

  He seemed not here, off somewhere else, far away.

  “I got a bad feelin’ about this,” he muttered. “A real bad feelin’.”

  * * *

  Zorin finished explaining his plan, pleased that Kelly agreed with the tack he’d decided to take.

  The waitress brought their second orders.

  “You realize,” Kelly said, “that we will be the first to strike a direct blow against the main adversary.”

  That they would, which meant something to him.

  A sense of accomplishment.

  Finally.

  He extended his hand for Kelly to shake. “Together, we shall do this for the motherland.”

  They clasped each other in a tight grip. Comrades, both seemingly glad that it would end this way.

  “Eat your food,” he said to Kelly. “I must make one call.” He found his knapsack and retrieved the phone. “It will only take a moment, and I’ll step outside.”

  He stood from the booth and caught sight of a wall clock behind the counter.

  7:50 A.M.

  4 hours left.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  Stephanie found the hospital in Manassas, Virginia, using a car supplied by the White House. On learning about Luke she’d called Danny, who’d urged her to head that way immediately. At arrival she’d met Sue Begyn and learned that Luke had suffered a concussion and bronchial trauma from severe smoke inhalation. He was unconscious, his lungs being cleansed with oxygen. Thankfully, no burns. He’d dived beneath a heavy bed, which had collapsed, protecting him long enough for Sue to get him out. Apparently, the woman had risked her life to make the rescue. Amazing, until Stephanie discovered she was a Riverine.

  Stephanie stood beside Luke’s bed and stared down at the younger Daniels. He’d been a good hire, urged onto her by his uncle, but he’d proved himself with exemplary performance. Even Cotton spoke highly of him. The doctor had told her he should be fine, but he’d be out of commission for a few days. What she had to know was what he was doing back at the house in the first place.

  Sue had been called to her father’s room. During the escape the older man had suffered a severe asthmatic attack, and was now in a semi-coma, but he should come out of it. Luckily, paramedics and the county fire department had arrived at the scene in time, quickly transporting both men straight to the hospital. She hadn’t pressed Sue, seeing she was upset over her father, and she’d wanted to check on Luke.

  But time was running out.

  Noon was coming fast.

  A description and license plate of the government car stolen in Virginia had been provided to all police within fifty miles of DC. Traffic camera footage was being studied on the off chance that the vehicle might appear. But she knew that kind of luck happened only on television. So many people were in town. Too many cars. And there were hundreds of cameras and even more hours of footage that would have to be reviewed.

  The Secret Service had control of the weapons cache, but no sign of any RA-115s had been detected. Even worse, they had no idea what Zorin looked like. No photos existed of him in U.S. data banks and the Russians had not been willing to offer one, assuming they even possessed a current image. The man had not been a player in a long time. But Cotton and Cassiopeia could recognize him on sight. Kelly, too, had proven difficult since they knew little to nothing about him. No current American passport, or a Canadian driver’s license, was held under the Kelly name. Not unusual, as this man had been trained to be invisible. Canadian authorities had interviewed his neighbors and employer, finding no current photographs of him. Apparently, he was camera-shy.

  The door opened and Sue entered Luke’s room.

  “How’s your dad?”

  “He’s going to be okay. But he’ll be here a few days.”

  “I have to know what happened.”

  “Three men attacked the house with incendiary grenades. I managed to escape out a window. I heard some shots from inside. The firemen told me they found a body, so Luke must have taken one of them out. I shot the other two outside. We got my dad out, but he had an attack. Luke stayed inside.”

  “You know why?”

  Sue shook her head. “I wasn’t where my dad and Luke went. I was on guard outside the bedroom. They were after the Tallmadge journal, but I have no idea what they found, if anything.”

  Yet Luke had risked his life to stay inside a burning house.

  A phone rang.

  Not hers.

  Petrova’s.

  Which sent a chill down her spine.

  “Could you wait outside a minute?” she asked.

  As Sue left she found the phone in her pocket, which she’d been carrying ever since Luke had retrieved it from Petrova’s destroyed car.

  “Anya,” a male voice said when she answered.

  “No, Comrade Zorin, this is not Anya.”

  Silence.

  “My name is Stephanie Nelle. I work for the U.S. Justice Department. We know what you’re doing.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Can you be sure? I do have this phone.”

  “Where is Anya?”

  “She’s dead.”

  More silence.

  “How did she die?”

  “In a car crash, trying to evade us.” She decided to expand her bluff. “We know you’re in DC and that you have a weapon. We now control that cache in Virginia.”

  “It’s of no consequence. As you saw, it is empty.”

  “Did you take all five with you?”

  “Five of what?”

  He wasn’t bending, but what had she expected? This was a man who played the game back when there actually was a game.

  “You won’t make it to the White House,” she said.

  “I’m already there.”

  And he was gone.

  Call over.

  Truth or fiction? Impossible to say. She’d tried her best to rattle him, but he’d kept his cool, even when learning that his lover was dead. But she had no idea how close that relationship had been. And even if it had been something special, a man like Zorin would not have conceded anything.

  She glanced down at Luke.

  What he knew had just become even more important.

  In fact, he was the only lead they had left.

  * * *

  Zorin stood outside the café, in the cold, trying to keep his composure.

  He switched off the phone.

  Anya, dead?

  He’d not experienced such a sense of loss since his wife died, but now the familiar pang returned to his gut. Anya had willingly tak
en up his cause, making it her own, becoming an active partner. Had they loved each other? That was hard to say since neither one of them ever expressed much emotion. But the relationship had been satisfying. Learning that she lived no more only reinforced what he’d already decided.

  This would be his last mission.

  The woman on the phone—Stephanie Nelle—owned only bits and pieces. He’d been around long enough to read a bluff. She knew about the RA-115s, but she had no idea if any had been there in that bunker. And she certainly had no idea where he was currently located.

  But she did know the target.

  The White House.

  Unfortunately, it would do her no good.

  They would never see him coming.

  * * *

  Stephanie knew of no way to reestablish contact. Zorin was gone, still loose somewhere, his phone surely off and soon to be destroyed.

  “Sue,” she called out.

  The younger woman reentered the hospital room.

  “There’s no way to talk with your father?”

  “He’s going to be out until at least tomorrow. The doctor said he was lucky the smoke didn’t kill him.”

  Which narrowed her options.

  The monitor beside Luke’s bed continued to bump its green charted line across a video screen, the soft blipping like clockwork. She reached down and pressed the button that would summon someone. Time to throw her weight around. The nurse appeared and she told the woman to find Luke’s doctor. When she was met by resistance a flash of her badge emphasized that it was not a request. Finally, the nurse relented and left the room.

  “Tell me all that you know,” she said to Sue. “As you can see, I’m not in the mood for bullshit.”

  “Dad told Luke about a journal from the society, written by Benjamin Tallmadge. He said that Charon may have it hidden somewhere in the house. Dad thought he knew where that might be, so we went to check.”

  Petrova had been after the same thing, so she now understood why Luke had risked his life. “And you have no idea as to its significance.”

  “Dad never spoke of this until the past two days. But he told Luke that a long time ago some Soviet may have got a look at the journal.”

  Which Peter Hedlund had also reported.

  The doctor entered the room and she told him that she wanted Luke revived.