"We had a good idea of what was going on. We just didn't know the full dimensions of it."
"He will know soon enough." Romashchuk glanced up at the clock above the desk. It showed 8:12. "In a few hours it will be daylight in Minsk. General Nikolsky will station his troops outside the commonwealth meeting site as a 'precautionary measure.' The Commonwealth Coordinating Committee representatives will be attending as observers. Leaders of two of the smaller republics have already joined forces with us. They will inform their colleagues that the troops have moved in to place them under arrest."
"On what charge?"
"Illegally usurping the powers of the Soviet Union. They will announce that Sergei Perchik, as head of the New Party Committee, will serve as temporary chairman of the new Union."
Yuri's jaw sagged. "Prosecutor Perchik?"
"How do you think we knew about your activities, particularly the trip to Brest. You were getting too close to the truth. We were afraid that talkative ex-soldier would foul up our plans."
"Who killed Trishin?"
Romashchuk laughed. "You did. Haven't you heard?"
"You know damn well it was not me." Yuri was straining to keep his temper in check.
"Two of my former KGB colleagues, Maximov and Metreveli. They were part of the team that obtained the weapons from your—"
Romashchuk's voice was abruptly silenced by a blow to the head from a large wrench wielded by Roddy Rodman. He had picked up the tool in the shop area and stuck it in his back pocket, thinking it might come in handy as something to throw should he need to decoy the Major's attention away from Yuri or himself. He hadn't considered that he would get close enough to use it like this. But it seemed the better alternative since he didn't trust the KGB man to react rationally to the small Beretta.
"That was for Elena," Roddy said, his voice flat. He looked down at the body sprawled on the floor. "I don't understand Russian. What was he saying?"
Yuri quickly repeated what he had heard. "I have my own score to settle with this man," he said. "You need to get with Burke and find that dump truck. It must be somewhere around the Capitol. Take the car and go on."
Roddy shook his head. "He should be out of commission for awhile. We can throw him in the back of the car. Come on."
Shumakov was insistent. "You don't have any time to lose. Neither do I. I have to call Belarus, try to find General Borovsky or Chairman Latishev and warn them."
Roddy glanced at the clock. It was 8:20. The concert had been under way for twenty minutes already. No doubt the Peruvians had reached their destination, somewhere in the vicinity of the Capitol. He grabbed the keys Yuri held out. "Okay. Take care of this character and call me on the cellular phone. You can use his van."
Yuri turned to the desk, which supported a panel covered by numerous lights and switches. One was designated "Main Gate," with switch positions labeled "Open" and "Closed."
"I can let you out the gate," he said, pressing the switch to "Open."
71
Romashchuk was breathing, but he was strictly dead weight as Yuri dragged him aside. From the looks of it, Roddy had given him quite a lick. It should keep him quiet while he contacted General Borovsky, Yuri thought. The prudent thing would be to find a place where he could secure the traitor to a chair or post. But he was impatient to get on with the mission he had worked so hard to wrap up these past few weeks. Now that he had answers to the questions that had bedeviled them, Yuri was anxious to warn General Borovsky. Unless action was taken immediately to counter Sergei Perchik's New Party Commmittee, his country was in grave danger.
He pulled Romashchuk's belt off and tied his hands in back. Then he picked up the gun that had fallen to the floor and shoved it in his pocket.
There were two telephones on the desk. Yuri chose one and called for an overseas operator. His briefcase would have had the number, but it was back at the Brackins' home. He asked to be connected with Belarus KGB Headquarters in Minsk. After a few minutes, a night watch officer came on the line.
"I have an urgent message for General Borovsky," Yuri said. "Give me his phone number, or get him on the line for me."
"Who is this?"
"Chief Investigator Yuri Shumakov. I've been working on an investigation for the General. This is urgent. I must speak with him immediately."
"I know who you are. Do you know what time it is? Where the hell are you?"
"Washington, D.C. United States of America."
"Well, my advice is to get your ass over to the Belarus Embassy and turn yourself in. If they think you have something worth talking to the General about, they can call."
"Don't give me that, you imbecile. The information I have is vital to the national security of Belarus. I've been working on an undercover mission directly under General Borovsky. If he finds out you delayed his getting this message, you're in deep trouble. Hurry!"
The officer began to weasel and with a little more cajoling, he transferred the call to the General's private line at home.
Yuri heard a sleepy voice growl, "Borovsky."
"This is Yuri Shumakov in Washington, D.C., General. I just had an encounter with Major Nikolai Romashchuk."
The state security director was suddenly wide awake. "You what?"
"He thought he had me trapped. While he had the upper hand, he told me what they were planning. It's nothing short of a revolution. They intend to take over the CIS meeting in the morning."
The General replied in a skeptical tone. "They won't get far. General Nikolsky has his troops on standby. I have my people everywhere. The militia are out in force."
Yuri informed him that Nikolsky was part of the plot, that Sergei Perchik was the ringleader.
"Romashchuk said that?"
"And a lot more. He has a terrorist operation going on over here, set to take place at any moment. He plans to cause massive panic and confusion to keep the American President from offering help to Belarus." Yuri explained about the Shining Path guerrillas, the plan to fire nerve agent-filled mortar rounds into a crowd that included most of the leading members of the U.S. Congress.
"Where would he get chemical weapons?"
"Remember that grave they dug up in Kiev? The weapons are what they had hidden in it. They were stolen from my brother's outfit in Ukraine back in 1991."
"How do you know they're chemical weapons?"
"If you want confirmation, call Forensic Analyst Selikh with the Minsk militia crime lab. He tested a piece of cloth from the casket and identified traces of a nerve agent. Oh, and Paul Kruszewski from your office tracked down the shipment from Kiev containing the weapons. It was aboard a ship sailing from Gdansk to Mexico. That's where I caught up with Major Romashchuk."
Borovsky sounded hesitant. "Kruszewski told me about that ship, but I never thought… damn, Shumakov, if you're right—"
"I know I'm right, General. I followed the bastard through Mexico and saw his people practice-firing mortars from a truck. I tracked him halfway across the United States. I saw the same kind of truck he plans to use here."
"Did you know that Perchik has been looking under every rock for you?"
"Based on what I learned tonight, I'm not surprised. Now I know who killed Vadim Trishin. It was two former KGB men named Maximov and Metreveli. They were with Romashchuk and General Zakharov when they stole those weapons. The Major admitted he was the one who killed my brother."