He turned to the hostages standing behind. The crowd erupted into abandoned applause and it was nearly five minutes before any calm set in. The president raised his hands and continued. “I stand before you today as a Russian citizen and as a member of the international community. I can tell you the Russian people were happy to do this for their international community and will not hesitate from this day forward to assist its neighbors in any way it can. Let today stand as a symbol for the love of the Russian people for the rest of the world. Let it stand for the end to hostilities in which we can place the past behind us. Let today not be the end of the hostage crisis, but the beginning of a world in which we all work together for a common prosperity. May peace be our future.”
Landenberger wanted to die.
He walked over to the mantle and carefully opened the glass cover on the case of the army pistol he had received on his birthday. I must do this now. My country deserves a better leader than me.
He envisioned his body lying in a pool of blood across the desk, the pistol in his hand. It would not be a pretty sight. His DSS agents would find him when they heard the shot and there would be no reason for his wife and daughter to see it. They would shield them from that — and then they would rush him to the hospital and he would be declared dead.
There would be a funeral.
The world would go on.
It would be a footnote in history.
He turned off the TV. The Russians were dancing in the streets and the whole world was watching. They had succeeded where he had failed. While they saved the hostages, he had caused the death of millions. God would never forgive him. He would pray for forgiveness, but knew that his soul would spend eternity in hell.
He scribbled a note.
Dear Melissa,
Forgive me. I love you and doing this has nothing to do with you. Say goodbye to Tabitha. Hopefully one day she will understand what brought me to this.
Your loving husband,
Marshall
Landenberger loaded the powder into the barrel and pushed it in with the stick. He imagined General Mead loading the weapon at Gettysburg in a previous century. Did he sit on a horse at the top of the hill overlooking the troops? He dropped the iron ball into the barrel. Soon it would be lodged in his brain. It was a primitive weapon by modern standards, but would do the job. The pistol seemed to stare back at him for a minute. May God forgive me….
He picked up the pistol, placed it into his mouth and pulled the trigger.
Chapter Thirty-five
Robinson turned off the volume and let the images play on the TV. The hostages were being loaded into a caravan of limousines and would soon be paraded through Red Square in what looked like a gala event. Military bands had been flown in from the EU for the parade and a grand ball was planned for the evening. The hostages would fly to their homelands the following morning for another grand welcome. The world was happy that it ended well for some of the players in the tragic crisis.
Turner sat in an armchair beside him in the living room. “Let’s put on one of your dad’s records,” she suggested. She ran her fingers along the neatly arranged albums and pulled out Club Durante. “How about this one? I remember seeing him in some old black and white movies many years ago. He is quite a character don’t you think?”
“He is one of a kind. My grandfather was his biggest fan and my dad and I are probably next in line. There will never be anyone like him.” He pulled it from the sleeve and set it on the turntable. They listened to Durante and Al Jolson in a tune titled “Real Piano Player” and then Sophie Tucker came out and they did a song, “I’m as Ready as I’ll Ever Be.” Durante exchanged jibs with each guest and often the music and the patter was intermixed such that it was difficult to tell where the music started and ended. Turner brought out some chips and soda while they were listening.
From the kitchen, Mom said, “If you need anything honey, just let me know. I’ve got some graham crackers here.”
“She thinks Dad is in here,” Robinson whispered. “Whenever she hears the music—” He could not finish the thought. “This was his favorite record.”
While Bob Hope was performing a routine, “Boys with the Probiscus” Turner said, “This is hilarious. Isn’t it amazing all the impromptu jokes they dream up?”
“It might seem that way. The first time you hear it anyone would think they are working off the cuff, but after you listen to it a few times you can sense a cadence to it. When you find the cadence you will see that this is all carefully rehearsed. All of them are masters of their craft. Listen to it carefully and you might catch on. It is quite clever.”
She listened to a few more numbers, and said, “I don’t hear the cadence that you are talking about, I guess I would need to listen to it again.”
“No one would ever catch on to it the first time around. That’s why Dad loved it. The more you paid attention to it, the more you understood what was going on.”
“OK, I believe you. Let’s not talk as I am missing some of it.”
Robinson’s mind drifted off while Turner continued to listen. He thought of the events of the past month: the Iranians setting off the nuke tests, the coup in Venezuela, the Iranian hijacking and the near disaster with the SS George H.W. Bush.
He glanced at the screen. The hostages were waving at the jubilant crowds as they paraded through Red Square. There was a kind of cadence to the events of the last month. When one lived it as it unfolded the cadence was not that obvious. What if someone was behind the whole thing pulling the strings? Who would it be? It would need to be a government to pull off anything this massive.
Could all the events be tied together? One would need to search for a motive in order to find an answer. The Iranians started the whole thing with the nuke test. But look where they were now. They are under a cloud of death and surrounded by toxic un-navigable waters. No — they were the victims — the target. What if that was the goal — to destroy Iran? Why would anyone want that? That’s easy enough. Everyone would like to get rid of them. The USA, the EU, Russia, Iraq, Israel, the list goes on and on.
And what about the Somali pirates? Who supplied them with the hardware and the expertise to pull off the destruction of the tankers? They were content to hijack a tanker here and there with one hundred year old thinking then, out of the blue, pull a caper larger than the destruction of the Spanish Armada. They had money to purchase anything they wanted as it was an $80 million dollar a year business. Is it possible someone came along and planted an idea about upping the ante?
It was never about the hostages. While the world was focused upon the hostages the tankers were used as WMD. What if that was the plan all along — to blow up the tankers — and take out Iran? If so, it was the cleverest coup in modern history. They were master illusionists who knew misdirection and they got away with it. Bless them, whoever they are, as they did the world a favor.
Robinson began checking off the suspects.
Their greatest enemy is Israel. Yes, they would be at the top of the list. Could Harazi and Dazdraperm hatch up such a plan? Harazi said they were going to try some innovative things and wanted the cyber criminal released to them in order to destroy their computer programs. That would have been a very different approach. They didn’t have the contacts to do it all — especially Venezuela.
Venezuela…. The Russians were swarming all over the countryside when he arrived. Could it be possible they were behind it all? What if they were delivering weapons as part of a deal? They would have played both sides of the coin if they knew a coup was underway. It would not have mattered who won. In the end they wanted the oil cut off at a critical moment. He was there when Landenberger made the call and Rio brushed him off. It was Vissarionovich that he had run into down there. Maybe he was the brains behind the whole thing.