THERE WAS A MILITARY jet waiting at a private area of Sheremetyevo II airport. Dana was surprised to see that she and Sasha Shdanoff were the only passengers.
"Where are we going?" Dana asked.
Sasha Shdanoff gave her a mirthless smile. "To Siberia."
Siberia. Dana felt a knot in her stomach. "Oh."
The flight took four hours. Dana tried to make conversation, hoping to get an inkling of what she was facing, but Shdanoff sat in his seat, silent and grim-faced.
When the plane landed at a small airport in what seemed to Dana to be the middle of nowhere, a Lada 2110 sedan was waiting on the frozen tarmac for them. Dana looked around at the most desolate landscape she had ever seen.
"This place we're going to - is it far from here?"And will I be coming back?
"It is a short distance. We must be very careful."
Careful of what?
There was a short, bumpy drive to what looked like a small train station. Half a dozen heavily bundled-up uniformed guards stood on the platform.
As Dana and Shdanoff approached them, the guards were ogling Dana's skimpy outfit. One of them pointed to Dana and smirked. "Ti vezuchi!"
"Kakaya krasivaya zhenshina!"
Shdanoff grinned and said something in Russian and all the guards laughed.
I don't want to know, Dana decided.
Shdanoff boarded the train and Dana followed, more confused than ever. Where could a train be going in the middle of a bleak, frozen tundra? The temperature in the train was freezing.
The engine started, and a few minutes later the train was entering a brightly lit tunnel cut into the heart of a mountain. Dana looked at the rock on both sides, inches away, and had the feeling she was in some weird, surrealistic dream.
She turned to Shdanoff. "Will you please tell me where we're going?"
The train jerked to a stop. "We are here."
They debarked from the train and started toward an odd-shaped cement building one hundred yards away. In front of the building stood two forbidding-looking barbed-wire fences, patrolled by heavily armed soldiers. As Dana and Sasha Shdanoff approached the gates, the soldiers saluted.
Shdanoff whispered, "Put your arm in mine and kiss me and laugh."
Jeff will never believe this, Dana thought. She put her arm in Shdanoff's, kissed him on the cheek, and forced a hollow laugh.
The gates swung open and the two of them went through, arm in arm. The soldiers watched enviously as Commissar Shdanoff walked in with his beautiful whore. To Dana's astonishment, the structure they entered was the top of an elevator station that went below the ground. They stepped into the cab of the elevator and the door banged closed.
As they started down, Dana asked, "Where are we going?"
"Beneath the mountain." The elevator was picking up speed.
"How far beneath the mountain?" Dana asked nervously.
He said, "Six hundred feet."
Dana looked at him incredulously. "We're going six hundred feet under a mountain. Why? What's down there?"
"You will see."
In a few minutes, the elevator began to slow down. Finally, it stopped, and the door opened automatically.
Commissar Shdanoff said, "We are here, Miss Evans."
But where is here?
They stepped out of the elevator and had walked no more than twenty feet when Dana stopped in shock. She found herself looking down the street of a modern city, with shops and restaurants and theaters. Men and women were walking along the sidewalks, and Dana suddenly realized that no one was wearing an overcoat. Dana began to feel warm. She turned to Shdanoff. "We're underneath a mountain?"
"That's right."
"But - " She looked at the incredible sight spread out before her. "I don't understand. What is this place?"
"I told you. Krasnoyarsk-26."
"Is this some kind of bomb shelter?"
"On the contrary," Shdanoff said enigmatically.
Dana looked again at all the modern buildings around her. "Commissar, what is the point of this place?"
He gave Dana a long, hard look. "You would be better off not knowing what I am about to tell you."
Dana felt a fresh sense of alarm.
"Do you know anything about plutonium?"
"Not very much, no."
"Plutonium is the fuel of a nuclear warhead, the key ingredient in atomic weapons. Krasnoyarsk-26's sole purpose for existing is to make plutonium. One hundred thousand scientists and technicians live and work here, Miss Evans. In the beginning, they were given the finest food and clothes and housing. But they are all here with one restriction."
"Yes?"
"They must agree never to leave."
"You mean - "
"They cannot go outside. Ever. They must cut themselves off completely from the rest of the world."
Dana looked at the people walking along the warm streets and thought to herself, This can't be real. "Where do they make the plutonium?"
"I will show you." A tram was approaching. "Come." Shdanoff boarded the tram, and Dana followed him. They rode down the busy main street, and at the end entered a maze of dimly lit tunnels.
Dana thought of the incredible work and all the years that must have gone into building this city. In a few minutes, the lights began to get brighter, and the tram stopped. They were at the entrance to an enormous, brightly lit laboratory.
"We get off here."
Dana followed Shdanoff and looked around in awe. There were three giant reactors housed in the immense cave. Two of the reactors were silent, but the third one was in operation and surrounded by a busy cadre of technicians.
Shdanoff said, "The machines in this room can produce enough plutonium to make an atomic bomb every three days." He indicated the one that was working. "That reactor is still producing half a ton of plutonium a year, enough to make a hundred bombs. The plutonium stockpiled in the next room is worth a czar's ransom."
Dana asked, "Commissar, if they have all that plutonium, why are they still making more?"
Shdanoff said wryly, "It is what you Americans call a catch-twenty-two. They can't turn the reactor off because the plutonium furnishes the power for the city above. If they stop the reactor, there will be no light and no heat, and the people up there will quickly freeze to death."
"That's awful," Dana said. "If - "
"Wait. What I have to tell you gets worse. Because of the state of the Russian economy, there is no longer the money to pay the scientists and technicians who work here. They have not been paid in months. The beautiful homes they were given years ago are deteriorating, and there is no money to repair them. All the luxuries have disappeared. The people here are getting desperate. You see the paradox? The amount of plutonium stored here is worth untold billions of dollars, yet the people who created it have nothing and are starting to go hungry."
Dana said slowly, "And you think they might sell some of the plutonium to other countries?"
He nodded. "Before Taylor Winthrop became ambassador to Russia, friends told him about Krasnoyarsk-26 and asked him if he wanted to make a deal. After he talked to some of the scientists here who felt betrayed by their government, Winthrop was eager to make a deal. But it was complicated, and he had to wait until all the pieces fell into place."
He was like a crazy man. He said something like "All the pieces have fallen into place."
Dana was finding it difficult to breathe.
"Shortly after that, Taylor Winthrop became the American ambassador to Russia. Winthrop and his partner collaborated with some of the rebel scientists and began smuggling plutonium to a dozen countries, including Libya, Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, North Korea, and China."
After all the pieces had fallen into place! The ambassadorship was important to Taylor Winthrop only because he had to be on hand to control the operation.
The commissar was going on. "It was easy, because a mass of plutonium the size of a tennis ball is enough to make a nuclear bomb, Miss Evans. Taylor Winthrop and his partner were making billions of dollars. They handled everything very cleverly, and no one suspected a thing." He sounded bitter. "Russia has become a candy store - only instead of buying candy, you can buy atomic bombs, tanks, fighter planes and missile systems."
Dana was trying to digest everything she was hearing. "Why was Taylor Winthrop killed?"
"He got greedy and decided to go into business for himself. When his partner learned what Winthrop was doing, he had him killed."
"But - but why murder his whole family?"
"After Taylor Winthrop and his wife died in the fire, his son Paul tried to blackmail the partner, so he had Paul killed. And then he decided he could not take a chance that the other children might know about the plutonium, so he ordered the other two murdered and arranged for their deaths to look like an accident and a burglary gone wrong."
Dana looked at him, horrified. "Who was Taylor Winthrop's partner?"
Commissar Shdanoff shook his head. "You know enough for now, Miss Evans. I will give you the name when you get me out of Russia." He looked at his watch. "We must leave."
Dana turned to take one last look at the reactor that could not be shut off, that was turning out deadly plutonium twenty-four hours a day. "Is the government of the United States aware of Krasnoyarsk-26?"
Shdanoff nodded. "Oh, yes. They are terrified of it. Your State Department is working frantically with us to try to find a way to turn these reactors into something less lethal. Meanwhile..." He shrugged.
In the elevator, Commissar Shdanoff asked, "Are you familiar with the FRA?"
Dana looked at him and said cautiously, "Yes."
"They are involved in this also."
"What?" And then the realization hit her. That's why General Booster kept warning me away.
They arrived at the surface and stepped out of the elevator. Shdanoff said, "I keep an apartment here. We will go there."
As they started to walk along the street, Dana saw a woman dressed as she was, clinging to the arms of a man.
"That woman - " Dana started.
"I told you. Certain men are permitted to use prostitutes during the day. But at night the prostitutes must return to a guarded compound. They must know nothing of what goes on below the ground."
As they walked along, Dana noted that most of the shops' windows were empty.
The luxuries are gone. The state no longer has money to pay the scientists and technicians who work here. They have not been paid in months. Dana looked at a tall building on the corner and noticed that instead of a clock it had a large instrument mounted on top.
"What is that?" Dana asked.
"A Geiger counter, a warning in case anything goes wrong with the reactors." They turned into a side street filled with apartment buildings. "My apartment is in here. We must stay there for a little while so no one will be suspicious. The FSB checks on everyone."
"The FSB?"
"Yes. It used to be called the KGB. They changed the name, but that is all they changed."
The apartment was large and was once luxurious, but it had become shabby. The curtains were torn, the carpets were worn, and the furniture needed re-upholstering.
Dana sat down, thinking about what Sasha Shdanoff had told her about the FRA. And Jeff had said, The agency is a cover-up. The real function of the FRA is to spy on foreign intelligence agencies. Taylor Winthrop had once been the head of the FRA, working with Victor Booster.
I would stay as far away as you can from General Booster.
And her meeting with Booster. Can't you fucking journalists let the dead rest? I'm warning you to stay the hell away. General Victor Booster had an enormous secret organization to carry out the murders.
And Jack Stone was trying to protect her. Be careful. If Victor Booster knew I was even talking to you...
The FRA spies were everywhere, and Dana felt suddenly naked.
Sasha Shdanoff looked at his watch. "It is time to leave. Do you know yet how you are going to get me out of the country?"
"Yes," Dana said slowly. "I think I know how to arrange it. I need a little time."
When the plane landed back in Moscow, there were two cars waiting. Shdanoff handed Dana a piece of paper.
"I am staying with a friend at the Chiaka Apartments. No one knows I am there. It is what you call a "safe house." Here is the address. I can't go back to my own place. Come here at eight o'clock this evening. I must know your plan."
Dana nodded. "All right. I have a phone call to make."
When Dana got back to the lobby of the Soyuz Hotel, the woman behind the desk stared at her. I don't blame her, Dana thought. I've got to get out of this dreadful outfit.
Inside her room, Dana changed into her own clothes before making a phone call. She prayed as the phone kept ringing at the other end. Please be in. Please be in. Dana heard Cesar's blessed voice.
"The Hudson residence."
"Cesar, is Mr. Hudson in?" Dana found that she was holding her breath.
"Miss Evans! How nice to hear from you. Yes, Mr. Hudson is here. Hold on, please."
Dana felt her body tremble with relief. If there was anyone who could help her get Sasha Shdanoff into the United States, Roger Hudson would be the one person able to do it.
His voice came on the line a moment later. "Dana?"
"Roger, oh, thank God I got you!"
"What's the matter? Are you all right? Where are you?"
"I'm in Moscow. I found out why Taylor Winthrop and his family were murdered."
"What? My God. How did you - "
"I'll tell you all about it when I see you. Roger, I hate to impose on you again, but I have a problem. There's an important Russian official who wants to escape to America. His name is Sasha Shdanoff. His life is in danger here. He knows the answers to everything that's happened. We have to get him out, and quickly! Can you help?"
"Dana, neither of us should be involved in anything like this. We could both get in trouble."
"We have to take that chance. We have no choice. This is too important. It has to be done."
"I don't like this, Dana."
"I'm sorry to drag you into this, but I have no one else to turn to."
"Dammit, I - " He stopped. "All right. The best thing to do right now is to get him to the American embassy. He'll be safe there until we can work out a plan to get him into the United States."
"He doesn't want to go to the American embassy. He doesn't trust them."
"There is no other way. I'll call the ambassador on a secure line and tell him to see that he gets protection. Where is Shdanoff now?"
"He's waiting for me at the Chiaka Apartments. He's staying with a friend. I'm going there to meet him."
"All right. Dana, when you pick him up, go directly to the American embassy. Don't stop anywhere on the way."
Dana felt a surge of relief. "Thank you, Roger. I meanthank you! "
"Be careful, Dana."
"I will."
"We'll talk later."
Thank you, Roger. I mean thank you.
Be careful, Dana.
I will.
We'll talk later.
Tape ends.
At seven-thirty, Dana slipped out of the service entrance of the Soyuz Hotel. She went down an alley, ripped by the icy wind. She pulled her coat around her tightly, but the cold was in her bones. Dana walked two blocks, making sure that she was not being followed. At the first busy corner, she hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address Sasha Shdanoff had given her. Fifteen minutes later the taxi stopped in front of a nondescript apartment building.
"Me wait?" the driver asked.
"No." Commissar Shdanoff would probably have a car. Dana took some dollars from her purse, held out her hand, and the driver grunted and took them all. Dana watched him drive off, and she went inside the building. The hallway was deserted. She looked at the slip in her hand, apartment 2BE. She approached a flight of shabby stairs and walked up to the second floor. There was no one around. A long hallway lay in front of her.
Dana began to walk along it slowly, looking at the numbers on the doors. 5BE...4BE...3BE...The door to 2BE was ajar. Dana tensed. Cautiously, she pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. The apartment was dark.
"Commissar...?" She waited. There was no answer. "Commissar Shdanoff?" A heavy silence. There was a bedroom ahead, and Dana moved toward it. "Commissar Shdanoff..."
As Dana entered the dark bedroom, she tripped over something and fell to the floor. She was lying on something soft and wet. Filled with revulsion, Dana scrambled to her feet. She felt along the wall until she found a switch. She pressed it, and the room was flooded with light. Her hands were covered with blood. On the floor lay the object she had stumbled over: Sasha Shdanoff's body. He was on his back, his chest soaked in blood, his throat slit from ear to ear.
Dana screamed. As she did, she looked at the bed and saw the bloody body of a middle-aged woman with a plastic bag tied around her head. Dana felt her flesh crawl.
Hysterical, she ran down the stairs of the apartment building.
He was standing at the window of an apartment in the building across the street, loading a thirty-shot rifle clip into an AR-7 rifle with a silencer. He was using a 3-6 powered scope, accurate up to sixty-five yards. He moved with the easy, calm grace of a professional. This was a simple job. The woman should be coming out of the building at any minute. He smiled at the thought of how she must have panicked when she found the two bloody bodies. Now it was her turn.
The door to the apartment building across the street flew open, and he carefully raised the rifle to his shoulder. Through the scope, he saw Dana's face as she ran out onto the street, frantically looking around, trying to decide which way to go. He aimed carefully to make sure she was in the exact center of the scope and gently squeezed the trigger.
At that instant, a bus stopped in front of the building, and the spray of bullets hit the top of the bus and blew part of the roof off. The sniper looked down, unbelievingly. Some of the bullets had ricocheted into the bricks of the building, but the target was unharmed. People were pouring out of the bus, screaming. He knew he had to get out of there. The woman was running down the street. Not to worry. The others would deal with her.
The streets were icy and the wind was howling, but Dana never noticed. She was in a complete panic. Two blocks away she came to a hotel and ran into the lobby.
"Telephone?" she said to the clerk behind the desk.
He looked at her bloody hands and drew back.
"Telephone!" Dana was almost screaming.
Nervously, the clerk pointed to a phone booth in a corner of the lobby. Dana hurried into it. From her purse, she took out a phone card and, with trembling fingers, telephoned the operator.
"I want to place a call to America." Her hands were shaking. Through chattering teeth, she gave the operator her card number and Roger Hudson's number and waited. After what seemed to be an eternity, Dana heard Cesar's voice.
"The Hudson residence."
"Cesar! I need to talk to Mr. Hudson." Her voice was choked.
"Miss Evans?"
"Hurry, Cesar, hurry!"
A minute later Dana heard Roger's voice. "Dana?"
"Roger!" Tears were streaming down Dana's face. "He's - he's dead. They m-murdered him and his friend."
"What? My God, Dana. I don't know what - are you hurt?"
"No...but they're trying to kill me."
"Now, listen carefully. There's an Air France plane that leaves for Washington at midnight. I'll get you a reservation on it. Make sure you're not followed to the airport. Don't take a taxi there. Go directly to the Hotel Metropol. The hotel has airport buses leaving regularly. Take one of them. Mingle with the crowds. I'll be waiting for you in Washington when you arrive. For God's sakes, watch yourself!"
"I will, Roger. Th - thank you."
Dana hung up the phone. She stood there a moment, unable to move, filled with terror. She could not get the bloody images of Shdanoff and his friend out of her mind. She took a deep breath and walked out of the booth, past the suspicious clerk, out into the freezing-cold night.
A taxi pulled up to the curb next to her, and the driver said something to her in Russian.
"Nyet,"Dana said. She began to hurry down the street. She had to go back to her hotel first.
As Roger replaced the phone, he heard Pamela come in the front door.
"Dana's telephoned twice from Moscow. She's found out why the Winthrops were murdered."
Pamela said, "Then we must take care of her right away."
"I already tried. We sent a sniper, but something went wrong."
Pamela looked at him with contempt. "You fool. Call them again. And, Roger..."
"Yes?"
"Tell them to make it look like an accident."
