“How old were you when you found out you were Russian?”
“Fourteen. My parents explained everything to me.”
“Were you shocked?”
Kalinin shook his head. “No, not shocked. They said things over the years that made me wonder. I began to question them as I got older.”
“And you were ready to serve Mother Russia, just as they had?”
“More than ready then, and now.”
Vazov lightly slapped the top of his thighs as he said, “I would like to talk more about your years in America, Nicolai, but now is not the time.”
Kalinin put a foot on top of the rocks, resting his arms on his knee. “One day soon perhaps we will have the opportunity.”
“If and when that day finally comes, both of us may be back in Russia.”
“Yes. That is possible. But actually, I look forward to returning to Kursk, sir, to see where I was born.”
“Much has changed in Russia, Nicolai.”
Kalinin slid his foot off the rock, hearing a quiet sound of water slapping against the sandy shore. He stared ahead into the darkness momentarily before looking down at Vazov. “Much has changed here as well, sir.”
Silence between the two men lasted a couple of moments until Vazov said, “All your years living here have led you to this moment. Are you prepared to do everything we might ask of you, even if that means ‘eliminating’ someone?”
Kalinin didn’t hesitate in responding. He locked onto Vazov’s dark eyes. “Mr. Ambassador, anything you ask of me, no matter what that might entail, I will complete without question.”
Vazov pointed over his shoulder then lowered his voice. “And if I ask you to use your weapon — here, now?”
Kalinin glanced quickly at the two security men, then drew his weapon. Keeping it out of view, holding it low in front of him, he questioned, “One or both, sir?”
“You are confident enough to take out both?”
“I am, sir, except I probably do not need to remind you that you are going to need a ride back to the embassy.”
Vazov finally cracked a smile. “Never mind. I trust your ability.”
Kalinin slid the weapon back into his waistband. “Sir, I will do anything you ask of me, but I have a request, and suggestions.”
Vazov tilted his head. “Go ahead.”
“Mr. Ambassador, you know I only rent the house I am currently living in. I do not want any devices installed.”
“I assume you mean a scrambler or shortwave?”
“Yes, sir. I cannot take the chance that my landlord will inspect the property. And if I must leave in an emergency, it might take too long to disassemble and remove the equipment.”
“But what if you need to use the safe house? You realize both those devices are installed.”
“If circumstances dictate that I go there, then those would undoubtedly become a necessity. But I hope that will not happen.”
Vazov was beginning to feel less and less like Kalinin’s handler. On the other hand, he was impressed by the younger man’s forward-thinking and ability to take charge. From this first meeting, Vazov realized Russia’s newest “sleeper” would serve her well.
Vazov struggled slightly trying to stand. Kalinin held his arm, assisting him. “Let us go to my car, Nicolai. This evening is not treating me well.”
The two men settled into the leather back seat of the Mercedes. Vazov reached overhead and turned on a reading light, then removed a large envelope from the front seat pocket, and a folded piece of paper from his jacket. “The paper lists our established ‘dead drop’ sites.”
Kalinin glanced at the list. “I will familiarize myself with these.” He refolded the paper, slipping it into his leather jacket.
Vazov handed him the envelope. “This will be your first assignment.”
Kalinin nodded. He removed the papers from the envelope. Three sets, each set stapled. “Were these left at the same location?”
“No. Each set of papers was retrieved from different ‘drop’ sites.”
Kalinin examined photos and every page. As far as specifications, very little was listed.
All the while Vazov kept his eyes on him, watching to see if there was any form of emotion. But there was none. The younger man was completely in control.
“Well, Nicolai, do you have an idea on what that weapon could be? Why have the Americans labeled it ‘Top Secret’?”
Kalinin dropped the envelope on the seat. He turned slightly, looking at Vazov. “There is not much to go on, but I would say it has to do with some type of laser technology. But since it is classified as top secret, there is obviously something very special about it. Do you know exactly how many weapons are being ‘offered’?”
“Not yet.”
“And has a meeting been set up with the individual, ‘Primex’?”
“Moscow has just approved our request to proceed. Misha will meet him at whatever location and time he has chosen. I can only assume that is when details will be given about the ‘transfer’ of the weapon. At least that is what I am anticipating. He indicated there may be another meeting afterward. Why he is insisting on separate meetings, I do not know.
“As soon as I return to the embassy, I will have Misha go to the location and make the mark. Then we must wait until we are contacted.”
“Am I correct in assuming that once the meeting takes place, I will be in control of the mission?”
Vazov smiled slightly. “You will still report to me while you are here in the U.S., but yes, the plan for the mission is entirely in your hands.”
“And what about funds, sir? Equipment will be needed, payoffs will … ”
“I will give you enough cash that should see you through this assignment. Remember, when it is time for you to move the weapon or weapons, you will have access to Russia’s jet at Dulles International Airport.”
“From what I understand, sir, in order to give the ‘merchandise’ diplomatic immunity, official papers must be filled out.”
“That is correct. I will give you a seal and a special stamp. You must remember that each package must be clearly marked ‘diplomatic pouch.’”
“I understand,” Kalinin nodded. “And once I have secured the weapons, will you contact our comrades in Moscow?”
“The decision was already made that you will deliver them to Moscow. Then, once in Moscow, arrangements will be made for transferring half to the Afghans, however many that may be. My contact in Kabul is Major Zubarev. He is dealing with the Afghans.” Vazov detected something in the face of the younger Russian. “What is it?”
“You mentioned our aircraft at Dulles, and I realize at this point we do not know how many weapons will be made available, nor do we have an exact date when this will happen, but… ”
“What is your concern?”
“My concern only pertains to multiple weapons, perhaps ten or more, and if that is the case, I believe we should not put all the weapons aboard the aircraft. If anything happened… ”
“I understand. And your suggestion is?”
Kalinin hesitated, letting the idea roll around his brain, confident that it was plausible. “We have cargo ships traveling up and down the American coast, do we not?” Vazov nodded. “Do we have any carriers operating in or close to the Mediterranean?”
“Two. Why?”
“As soon as we learn of a date for the ‘transfer’ of the weapons, would you be able to put the captain of a cargo vessel on alert?”
“You want to deliver the weapons to that ship? But how?”
“I will find a way. Then, once the cargo ship is within range of the carrier’s helicopters, the weapons can be picked up and delivered to Kabul. I will personally make the delivery to Moscow.”
Vazov could only wonder how Kalinin was able to put this plan together in only a matter of minutes. “I will see what I can do.” He reached inside his jacket. “You may need this. Do you know what it is?”