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"Appears to me you're making an end run behind my back," said Sam Emmett, the outspoken chief of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
The President looked across his desk in the Oval Office and smiled benignly. "You're absolutely right, Sam. I'm doing exactly that."
"I give you credit for laying it on the line."
"Don't get upset, Sam. This in no way reflects any displeasure with you or the FBI."
"Then why can't you tell me what this is all about?" Emmett asked, holding his indignation in check.
"In the first place, it's primarily a foreign affairs matter."
"Has Martin Brogan at CIA been consulted?"
"Martin has not been called in. You have my word on it."
"And in the second place?"
The President was not about to be pushed. "That's my business."
Emmett stiffened. "If the President wishes my resignation--"
"I don't wish anything of the sort," the President cut in. "You're the ablest and best-qualified man to head up the bureau. You've done a magnificent job, and I've always been one of your biggest boosters. However, if you want to pick up your marbles and go home because you think your vanity has been dented, then go right ahead. Prove me wrong about you."
"But if you don't trust=
"Wait just a damned minute, Sam. Let's not say anything we'll be sorry about tomorrow. I'm not questioning your loyalty or integrity. No one is stabbing you in the back. We aren't talking crime or espionage. This matter doesn't directly concern the FBI or any of the intelligence agencies. The bottom line is that it's you who has to trust me, at least for the next week. Will you do that?"
Emmett's ego was temporarily soothed. He shrugged and then relented. "You win, Mr. President. Status quo. I'll follow your lead."
The President sighed heavily. "I promise I won't let you down, Sam."
"I appreciate that."
"Good. Now let's start at the beginning. What have you got on the dead bodies from Florida?"
The tight uneasiness went out of Emmett's expression, and he noticeably relaxed. He opened his attaché case and handed the President a leather-bound folder.
"Here is a detailed report from the Walter Reed pathology lab. Their examination was most helpful in giving us a lead for identification."
The President looked at him in surprise. "You identified them?"
"It was the analysis of the borscht paste that opened the door."
"Borscht what?"
"You recall that the Dade County coroner fixed death by hypothermia, or freezing?"
"Yes."
Yes."
"Well, borscht paste is a god-awful food supplement given to Russian cosmonauts. The stomachs of the three corpses were loaded with the stuff."
"You're telling me that Raymond LeBaron and his crew were exchanged for three dead Soviet cosmonauts?"
Emmett nodded. "We were even able to put a name on them through a defector, a former flight surgeon with the Russian space program. He'd examined each of them on several occasions."
"When did he defect?"
"He came over to our side in August of '87."
"A little over two years ago."
"That's correct," Emmett acknowledged. "The names of the cosmonauts found in LeBaron's blimp are Sergei Zochenko, Alexander Yudenich, and Ivan Ronsky. Yudenich was a rookie, but Zochenko and Ronsky were both veterans with two space flights apiece."
"I'd give my next year's salary to know how they came to be inside that damned blimp."
"Regrettably, we turned up nothing concerning that part of the mystery. At the moment, the only Russians circling the earth are four cosmonauts on board the Salyut 9 space station. But the NASA people, who are monitoring the flight, say they're all in good health."
The President nodded. "So that eliminates any Soviet cosmonaut on a space flight and leaves only those on the ground."
"That's the odd twist," Emmett continued. "According to the forensic pathology people at Walter Reed, the three men they examined probably froze to death while in space."
The President's eyebrows raised. "Can they prove it?"
"No, but they say several factors point in that direction, starting with the borscht paste and the analysis of other condensed foods the Soviets are known to consume during space travel. Also evident were physiological signs the men had breathed air of a high oxygen constant and spent considerable time in a weightless environment."
"Wouldn't be the first time the Soviets have launched men into space and failed to retrieve them. They could have been up there for years, and fell to earth only a few weeks ago after their orbit decayed."
"I'm only aware of two instances where the Soviets suffered fatalities," said Emmett. "The cosmonaut whose craft became tangled in the shrouds of its reentry parachute and slammed into Siberia at five hundred miles an hour. And the three Soyuz crewmen who died after a faulty hatch leaked away their oxygen."
"The disasters they couldn't cover up," said the President. "The CIA has recorded at least thirty cosmonaut deaths since the beginning of their space missions. Nine of them are still up there, drifting around in space. We can't advertise the fact on our end because it would jeopardize our intelligence sources."
"We-know-but-they-don't-know-we-know kind of affair."
"Precisely."
"Which brings us back to the three cosmonauts we've got lying here in Washington," said Emmett, clutching his briefcase on his lap.
"And a hundred questions, beginning with, Where did they come from?"
"I did some checking with the Aerospace Defense Command Center. Their technicians say the only spacecraft the Russians have sent aloft large enough to support a manned crew-- besides their orbiting station shuttles-- were the Selenos lunar probes."
At the word "lunar" something clicked in the President's mind. "What about the Selenos probes?"
"Three went up and none came back. The Defense Command boys thought it highly unusual for the Soviets to screw-up three times in a row on simple moon orbiting flights."
"You think they were manned?"
"I do indeed," said Emmett. "The Soviets wallow in deception. As you suggested, they almost never admit to a space failure. And keeping the buildup for their coming moon landing clouded in secrecy was strictly routine."
"Okay, if we accept the theory the three bodies came from one of the Selenos spacecraft, where did it land? Certainly not through their normal reentry path over the steppes of Kazakhstan."
"My guess is somewhere in or around Cuba."
"Cuba." The President slowly rolled the two syllables from his lips. Then he shook his head. "The Russians would never allow their national heroes, living or dead, to be used for some kind of crazy intelligence scheme."
"Maybe they don't know"
The President looked at Emmett. "Don't know?"
"Let's say for the sake of argument that their spacecraft had a malfunction and fell in or near Cuba during reentry. About the same time, Raymond LeBaron and his blimp show up searching for a treasure ship and are captured. Then, for some unfathomable reason, the Cubans switch the cosmonauts' bodies for LeBaron and his crew and send the blimp back to Florida."
"Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"
Emmett laughed. "Of course, but considering the known facts, it's the best I can come up with."
The President leaned back and stared at the ornate ceiling. "You know, you just might have struck a vein."