Ivan Morozov swore again under his breath.
“So what do you think, Ivan Morozov? Who did Ammon try to call? What kind of outfit has untraceable numbers?”
Morozov didn’t look up. Inside his head, his mind was racing. “That sonofa…,” his voice trailed off.
Morozov finally looked up from the paper. “Get the girl!” he commanded in a raspy voice. “Get the girl! No more excuses! No more delays! I want her by the end of the week!”
He turned and stalked from the room.
TWELVE
Jesse Morrel stared out the cabin window at the top of the Sierra mountains. It had snowed for the first time last night, much earlier than usual, and the highest peaks were blanketed in a deep white powder. But the lower valleys received only a light dusting, leaving clumps of desert wiregrass to stretch their brittle fingers through the thin layer of snow. The morning sun created millions of sparkling prisms as it reflected off the grainy white powder.
It had been more than two weeks since Jesse had come in from her morning walk to find the message Ammon had left her on her answering machine. Within two hours of receiving the message, she was driving the winding mountain roads that led to their summer cabin above the small town of Lone Pine.
As she drove along the highway toward the thin air of the Sierras, she wished for the thousandth time that this was just another weekend getaway. She glanced at the empty passenger seat, remembering the many happy days that she and Richard had spent in the cabin. It had been their mountain hideaway. Every weekend they could, they drove up to the cabin, where they spent the days hiking and swimming and sleeping in each other’s arms in the hammock that swung from the back porch.
One morning, just over a year ago, when they had been married for just a few weeks, they had come up to the cabin for Easter break. Early one morning they were hiking along a steep ridge line when they encountered a small black bear. The bear was high on the ridge, about fifty feet up the trail, but still Jesse quickly scrambled back down the trail to safety. While Jesse retreated, Richard stood his ground, insisting there wasn’t any danger. Suddenly the furry black bear hoisted herself onto her hind legs and began to swat at the air. She growled and tossed her head around as she glared at Richard Ammon. His evaluation of the harmless bear changed very quickly and he ran for the nearest tree. And that’s where Jesse found him, when, half an hour later, she cautiously hiked back up the mountain. Richard sat treed like a coon, perched high in an old white aspen, while the small bear waited patiently below. When the bear heard Jesse approaching, she must have felt outnumbered, because she quickly ran off into the trees. Richard shyly climbed down from the aspen while Jesse doubled over with laughter. From then on, if Ammon ever acted just a little too cocky, Jesse would smile at him, then growl like a bear.
Memories such as these had made Jesse happy to be back in their old mountain refuge. But as time wore on, the rooms seemed to grow more empty and a heavy loneliness began to set in.
The plan had been very simple. If Richard Ammon ever gave her the code, she was to go immediately up to the cabin. He would call her there as soon as he could. It might take some time, he had warned her, but eventually he would get to a phone. For more than two weeks, Jesse Morrel had been waiting, literally living each minute by the phone. She would stay all day in the cabin, then usually sleep in a bundle of quilted blankets by the fireplace, the telephone sitting next to her ear. Once or twice a day, she would pick up the receiver and listen for a dial tone just to make sure the phone was still working.
One morning, very early, the telephone rang. She awoke instantly from a deep slumber and snatched up the receiver with trembling hands. A bright female voice asked if Benny was there. “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number,” Jesse muttered. The girl giggled an apology and hung up. Jesse’s heart nearly broke. She held the receiver next to her chest and listened to the perfect silence of the room.
Late one evening she called a close friend. She couldn’t stand the loneliness anymore. They had only talked for a moment, but since then, Jesse had lived with a constant fear that Ammon had tried to call her while she was on the phone. Her mind knew it was unlikely, maybe one chance in ten thousand. But so many unlikely things had happened. She figured her chances of falling in love with a former spy had been pretty unlikely, too.
The waiting and wondering was driving her crazy. But where could she turn for answers? What was she to do? Drive to Nellis Air Force Base in Las Vegas and walk into the base commander’s office and ask if they knew that one of their F-16 pilots was a Soviet spy? Well, not really a Soviet spy, she would explain. The Soviet Union no longer existed, of course. He was a former Soviet spy, former in the sense that he was now a good guy. He wasn’t a spy anymore. Never really was. Didn’t ever have the chance. And he certainly had never done anything illegal. He was forced into the situation by ambitious and evil men who took advantage of his childhood. Now he considers himself an American. And he is completely loyal. He loves this country and he loves me, too, and he wouldn’t leave us voluntarily. He was taken in against his will. Why are you looking at me that way? I’m not crazy! I’m his wife!
Jesse could picture the expression on the base commander’s face as he threw her out of his office and had her shipped back to Circus Circus.
Of course he wouldn’t believe her. Jesse hardly believed it herself. And that meant she was on her own.
And so she waited. As long as she could. But after two weeks, she couldn’t take it any longer. She couldn’t stand the loneliness of the cabin or the frustration of not knowing what to do. She was tired of waiting for Ammon, and she wasn’t going to wait anymore. Fourteen days after arriving at the cabin, she packed up her small bag of belongings and headed home to Santa Monica.
She arrived late that afternoon. She parked her red Mazda next to the complex pool, then got out and cut through the grass, ignoring the winding sidewalks that led through the maze of buildings. Dressed in white summer shorts, a striped cotton shirt, and white sandals, she walked quickly toward her apartment and let herself in. The first thing she did was check the answering machine. Perhaps Ammon had tried to call her here. Pushing the play button, she tapped impatiently on the counter top as she waited for the tape to start playing. But nothing happened. When she remembered that she had turned the machine off after getting Ammon’s code, she let out a long, whispered sigh. It was just another link in a chain of disappointments. She was starting to get used to them now.
It wasn’t until then that Jesse noticed the stale, musty air. The apartment smelled like an old tangy sweatshirt. She walked to the sink and saw the spilled orange juice that had been left there for over two weeks. It was now a smelly puddle of brown pulp. She opened the drain and turned on the water to wash it away, then propped open the front door and raised the kitchen window to let the outside air circulate through the room.
Jesse walked through the apartment, looking things over. Everything appeared just as she left it. She grabbed a notebook and pencil, sat down at the kitchen table, and tried to collect her thoughts. You’re a smart girl, she said to herself. You can figure this out. After all, this wasn’t brain surgery. The problem was where to begin?
She tried to consider every angle. But Jesse was not trained in counter-espionage and one very important consideration never entered her mind. It never occurred to her that Ammon’s former master would have any interest in her. And though Ammon had warned her to go to the cabin, she never really thought that her life might be in danger.