“Back then it seemed clear that he was. Now, perhaps less so. I have to investigate further.”
“You do that, Carter. You do that. And if the truth is that this man was innocent, we will make it right, do you understand?”
“I’d have it no other way. Ray Solomon was my friend.”
“My God, two Soviet leaders assassinated by this country. I can’t believe it.”
“Not many of us could, sir.”
“You’re saying you didn’t know?” the president asked sharply.
Gray chose his words carefully. “Things operated differently back then. We had evidence of Soviet plots to kill U.S. presidents from time to time, but we took measures to counter them. The truth couldn’t come out because it might have led to nuclear war. They were never official plots of the Soviet leadership, you have to understand, but the Cold War was played for all it was worth.”
“So who the hell ordered the assassinations of Andropov and Chernenko?”
“The orders didn’t come through me.”
“Are you telling me that Roger Simpson, who if I recall was merely a case agent, did this on his own?”
“No, not at all. He never would have done something like that by himself. He must have received authorization from higher channels.”
“Channels that circumvented you? Why? You were his superior, were you not?”
“Not for all matters, sir. And my feelings on assassinations of foreign leaders was clear. There was an executive order making it illegal, and that was where I drew the line.”
“Well, perhaps I should talk to Roger about this directly.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise, sir. He’s going to make his own run for the White House. He’s a fellow party member of yours. You start making inquiries, then there’re leaks to the press and eventually everything comes out. As you know it’s much harder these days to keep secrets.”
“Damn whistleblowers; yes, I know.”
“And what would Senator Simpson say? His signatures are on these orders. He will claim that higher-ups ordered the killings. He might even say I knew about it. You can hardly blame him for trying to cover his tracks. But the matter is over. Two men were killed. Illegally? Probably. Did the result justify the means? I think humanity would judge that it did. I say we let sleeping dogs lie, Mr. President. Just let sleeping dogs lie.”
“I’ll think about it, Carter. But keep me informed of further developments.”
“One more thing, sir.”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to come back to work. As the intelligence chief. I want to serve my country again.”
“Well, as you know, that slot is presently unfilled. So it’s yours if you really want it. I doubt the Senate will have any problem confirming a Medal of Freedom winner.”
“I really want it, Mr. President.”
He shook Gray’s hand. “I appreciate your frankness today, Carter. You’re a true patriot. Wish we had more like you.”
“I’m only doing my job, sir.” Actually, Gray was thinking that with Carr still out there, he wanted to be surrounded by as many heavily armed men as possible.
“You know, I believe you’d make a good president.”
Gray laughed. “Thank you, sir, but I don’t think I have the right qualifications.” What Gray left unsaid was he believed he was overqualified for the job. Plus, he wanted a position with real power. All a president could really do was start wars, and those came along all too infrequently. Other than that, the office was fairly impotent, Gray felt.
He left the White House and climbed into his chopper. As it rose into the air, he knew he should feel good, victorious. Yet he didn’t. In fact, he had rarely felt this depressed in his life.
CHAPTER 94
OLIVER STONE DIDN’T ATTEND Milton’s funeral, though most of the others were present and grief-stricken. Caleb was so distraught at his friend’s death that Alex and Annabelle had to hold him upright. Harry Finn had wanted to come but he was still in hiding with his family.
Alex had checked in with his supervisor and had found that all of his problems had gone away. “I don’t know what the hell it was all about,” the supervisor said, “and I don’t think I want to know.”
They all gathered a week later at Caleb’s condo to honor Milton’s memory. This time Finn came with Lesya.
“I can’t believe Oliver missed Milton’s funeral,” Reuben said, staring down into his beer. “Can’t believe it,” he said again, his eyes red.
Annabelle looked at Alex. “No word from him at all?”
Alex shook his head. “Harry, you were the last one to see him. Did he say anything about where he was going? What he was going to do?”
Finn shook his head. “I know he blames himself for Milton’s death.”
Caleb said angrily, “And I read in the paper where Carter Gray is going to be the head of the intelligence community again. Isn’t that just wonderful? We all know what he’s done. We know, but we have no proof.” He slumped down in a chair and stared at a photo of Milton that he’d placed on a shelf for all to see. Tears slid down his fat cheeks.
Finn said, “My family and I will have to leave the country, somehow. Gray won’t stop until he gets us.”
“I think not. It is time to end this foolishness.”
All eyes swung around to Lesya, who sat in one corner.
From her bag she pulled an item, a very unusual object for an elderly woman to be carrying around. It was a bear.
“My granddaughter’s beloved bear. My beautiful Susie’s bear that I gave her when she was very little.”
Everyone simply stared at her, no doubt wondering if she had at that very instant lost her mind.
“It is with Susie’s permission that I do this.” She took a small penknife from her purse and cut the stitching holding the bear together. She parted the seam, reached in and pulled out a small box.
“I had a craftsman in Russia make it for me.” She took out a key, unlocked the box and took out a thumb-size electronic device with a USB port. “Does anyone here have a computer?”
The scene on the computer screen was a small sparsely furnished room. Four people were seated around a wooden table. A younger Lesya and Rayfield Solomon were on one side. Across from them was Roger Simpson as a young man. And next to Simpson was another man who hadn’t really changed all that much.
“Carter Gray,” Alex said.
Lesya nodded. “It was Rayfield’s idea to secretly film this. The mission was so monumental, you see.”
As they watched the four discussed the assassination. It seemed that Andropov had already been killed, and they were now focusing on Konstantin Chernenko as the only man standing in the way of Gorbachev’s rise to power.
“You did wonderfully the first time, Ray and Lesya,” Gray was saying. “There wasn’t the slightest doubt that Andropov died from natural causes.”
“There are certain poisons that leave no trace,” Lesya commented. “And there are those high up in the Soviet Union who were not sad to see poor Yuri go.”
“Perhaps it will be the same with Chernenko,” Simpson said, “now that he’s been named the general secretary.”
Gray cut in. “But wait a bit. At least a year. It will allow us time to arrange things on our end and cut down on suspicion. All roads now point to Gorbachev taking power after Chernenko dies.”
“If we wait, Konstantin may accommodate us without poison. He is not a well man,” Solomon pointed out.
“So we give it a year,” Gray said again. “Then if he’s still alive, you and Lesya can make sure he isn’t living much longer.”
“And the director and the president are on board with this too?” Solomon asked.
Simpson answered, “Absolutely. They see it as critical to world peace and the destruction of the Soviet Union. As you know, there are many on the Soviet side who want this too.”