“Well, it looks pretty good,” Kendricks announced, surveying the bright ribbons and †ags that decorated the plaza.
The lead agent said, “Yes, sir.” But he was glancing over the rooftops, where soldiers stood in pairs in clear view. There would be snipers tucked into key spots as well.
So far as Ulinov knew, today was only the second time since the plague year that the top levels of the U.S. government would appear in public together. The layers of protection around this spot were intense. There hadn’t been any need to come in two Suburbans. They could have walked. The city had been shut down and the streets were empty, except for the armor and machine guns at key intersections.
“Nice day for it, too,” Kendricks said, directing a grim smile at Ulinov.
Ulinov only nodded. Kendricks seemed exceptionally pleased and was early for his little ceremony. He wanted to make this place his own before the Russian envoys were driven in from the air‚eld. The scene was well-crafted. Kendricks had transformed himself to match. He’d put away his cowboy out‚t and donned a business suit instead, keeping his string tie but giving up his white hat, exposing his rich brown hair to the sun and the cool hint of a breeze.
The squat face of the city building had been lined with red, white, and blue bunting. In the open square in front stood a podium, four cameras, two clumps of folding chairs, and the beginnings of a crowd. There were the ‚lm crews and select media. Ulinov also saw a small pack of children with three teachers who’d wisely decided to keep the kids busy by talking to an Air Force general in dress blues.
Kendricks moved away from his Suburban in a phalanx of men. Ulinov limped after the group. Kendricks didn’t look back, but Schraeder extended his hand to Ulinov’s elbow.
“We’re all the way in front,” Schraeder said gently.
Ulinov nodded again, lost in his thoughts. As if it was possible to hide from the drone of the plane.
He looked exactly like these privileged men, he knew, sharp and tidy. That made him surprisingly uncomfortable. Yesterday, Schraeder had sent over two men with scissors, soap, a razor, and new clothes, and little by little it had felt like giving himself up. He didn’t know why. He’d spent a lifetime keeping everything in its place. For a cosmonaut, neatness and details were critical, and yet Ulinov would have preferred to wear his nation’s uniform. There had been more than one in his duffel bag in the Endeavour, but it was better for the Americans to feel that they controlled him down to the smallest details.
The only thing of lasting importance was his conduct. His heart. His memory. He knew he’d done well, and that helped him control his fear. More and more, he’d taken refuge in his past, recounting the people and places of his life, his father and sister and the simple comfort of home, his girlfriends, the magni‚cent killing beauty of space. He was glad Ruth wasn’t here. He would have liked to listen to her tease him about his haircut and his suit, but the two of them had always been separated by duty and now he realized that it for the best. If she was still alive, he wished her nothing but success.
He thought of the other astronauts and the friendships they had shared in the ISS despite their differences. American. Russian. Italian. None of that had been a problem up there and it made him feel both wistful and glad.
At last, Ulinov looked up.
The noise was unending. Louder now. As the C-17 passed over the nearest peaks, the basins around Leadville had caught and echoed the sound. A moment ago there had been another subtle change as the hum of the engines deepened.
Kendricks missed it, making eye contact with a Special Forces colonel who stood near the last row of folding chairs. “Hello, Damon,” Kendricks said easily, offering his small hand. “Early bird gets the worm, eh?”
“You and me both, Senator,” the colonel said.
But at Ulinov’s side, the lead agent put his ‚ngers to his ear-mike and muttered, “Ah shit.” Ulinov also saw several of the children lift their heads, restless in their perfect clothes. An eight-year-old boy poked an elbow into his friend’s side and was reprimanded. “Stop it,” their teacher said.
At the same time, the silhouettes of the men on the rooftops shifted and turned.
“Sir. Excuse me.” The lead agent stopped Kendricks just as he began to stride through the corridor between the folding chairs. “Senator? We’re on alert.”
Schraeder reacted ‚rst. “Where?”
“The air‚eld. Their plane. It’s not landing.” The agent kept his left hand cupped over the side of his head, listening simultaneously as he talked.
The schoolboys traded jabs again. But their teacher was staring in the other direction.
“It’s coming toward us,” the agent said.
Kendricks’s face shrunk into something made of stone. He shot a long, searching glance at Ulinov and said, “Are you trying to strong-arm us? Change the deal?”
Ulinov didn’t answer.
Schraeder clutched his sleeve and yelled, “Damn it! Tell us what’s going on!”
Kendricks seemed not to see any threat or triumph in Ulinov, however. Kendricks took aside the agent with radio connection and Schraeder ducked his head into the conversation, too, pausing only to stab his ‚nger at Ulinov. “Search him,” Schraeder said.
One of the Army Rangers touched his pistol against Ulinov’s forehead. “Don’t even breathe,” the Ranger said as his partner shuf†ed his hands through Ulinov’s clothes, looking for weapons or electronics. All gone. He’d destroyed his PDA and cell phone two nights ago and ditched the stolen 9mm Glock through a toilet seat into the septic tank beneath.
“Back in the car,” Kendricks snapped.
The bass grumble of the plane rippled over the city, vibrating ahead of the slow-moving aircraft itself. Everyone looked up. Mixed with the sound was the higher, lifting whine of a jet ‚ghter, but neither plane was yet in sight from where Ulinov stood inside the plaza. The row of †ags undulated once in the breeze. Then a woman shrieked and Ulinov staggered as the Army Rangers hustled him after Kendricks and Schraeder, running back to the street. “Move! Move!”
The civilian agents also had their guns drawn, as if this could make any difference. It did. One of them reached the cars ‚rst and waded into the tightly packed vehicles, brandishing his pistol at a GMC Yukon that had just arrived.
“Move over!” the agent shouted.
“I’m with Congressman O’Neil,” the driver said, but the agent yelled, “We’re taking the car!”
Beside them, other units of men slammed into the parked vehicles, pushing and hollering. Within this small chaos, Ulinov’s calm ‚nally broke. Please, he thought. Oh please.
But it wouldn’t stop. Their panic increased his own adrenaline. He saw two soldiers hauling a shoulder-mounted missile launcher out into the open. Some of the children screamed, their voices lost in the noise. Then the human sounds were punctuated by the explosive bark of recoilless ri†es opening ‚re from the rooftops all around the plaza. Hidden weapons teams were trying to take down the plane — and for one instant, Ulinov hoped they would succeed.
* * * *
Kendricks had been rough with Ulinov, outraged at his spying and deceit. Through him, Kendricks had pushed the Russian leadership hard, threatening to abandon them altogether. First he let them beg. Then he relented and agreed to honor their arrangement for U.S. planes to airlift the Russians into the Indian Himalayas. Anything beyond that must bear a steep cost. Limited munitions. Limited food. Leadville would not include any livestock and there would never be any weaponized nanotech.