“In due time, we will lay out the proof. We have much. We are gathering more. And you will be the first to know. But now you know why action had to be taken — now, this weekend, before it was too late. It was not pleasant. I do not pretend that it was. But it was necessary.”
MacPherson couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Was any of it true? Had Vadim been on the take? Could he have conspired with Chechen terrorists to provoke a crisis with the U.S.? What would have been his motive?
The questions kept coming, but even as they did, the president found himself riveted by Gogolov’s performance.
The man looked different from the grainy, slightly out-of-focus photos the FBI and CIA had of him. He seemed younger, in better shape, with a lean face, a sharp European nose, square jaw, and a thin, cruel smile. His golden hair was shorter, though not quite a crew cut, and his complexion was fairer, almost Aryan.
But those azure eyes were the same — intense and hypnotic — hidden though they were behind round, gold, wire-rimmed spectacles that almost made one forget that Gogolov was nothing more than a cold-blooded killer.
Ruth Bennett just stared at the television.
She could not remember a single time in all the years she had been coming to this beauty salon that it had been so quiet. It was usually a beehive of good gossip, and thus one of the few outings she looked forward to each month. But today was different. Everyone understood the stakes, and Ruth and the other ladies were glued to the set. What’s more, they knew she had once lived in Moscow. They knew her son and future daughter-in-law were caught up in all this somehow. And when it was done, they would have a million questions, she had no doubt.
But what could she possibly tell them?
Who was this man Gogolov? What did he really want?
Something about his eyes, about the way he spoke, terrified her. And suddenly she was back in Moscow, newly married, caring for a baby, trying to survive in a city that seemed to hate Americans, in a country that openly threatened to bury them alive.
Her late husband, Sol, had loved their years in Russia. She had hated every minute — the parties, the constant travel, the constant fear that the KGB might be listening in on everything you said, the bone-chilling cold. Most of all she’d hated playing the “little woman,” constantly leaving little Jon-Jon with some toothless nanny just to show up in public with her globe-trotting, chain-smoking, deadline-worshiping, emotional vacuum of a husband.
For what? To raise a son who resented everything about her?
She stared into Gogolov’s soulless eyes, and her hands began to tremble. Call it a woman’s intuition, a mother’s instinct, a sixth sense. In that moment she knew this man was holding her son, and she knew she would never see him again.
“Which brings me to the task at hand,” said Gogolov.
“Due to the deaths of so many who fought for this liberation, the responsibility for rebuilding a new Russia falls to me. I did not ask for this task. But, however reluctantly, I have been persuaded to believe it is my destiny. Thus, I will devote all that I am to the task ahead. I will build a team around me of good and faithful servants of the people, men of honor and courage and unquestionable integrity. I will restore order in the streets and cleanse our capital from this stain of corruption.
“To begin with, I will order our security forces to round up those responsible, at home and abroad, for the rape of Russia, and I will not rest until justice has been done, nor will I ever forget those who have aided and abetted our enemies.
“As such, I hereby authorize the doubling of pay for every man and woman serving in our military and intelligence services. Those who have honored us, we shall honor. Moreover, I hereby announce a new initiative to modernize and expand our military. Over the next ten years, we will go from one million to three million active-duty personnel. We will also expand our intelligence and security services to a full one million officers over the same period. But we will do away with the draft. A new Russia demands a new military — a professional, motivated, highly trained force of the willing and the committed. We will recruit the best and the brightest Russia has to offer. We will pay them competitively. We will equip them with the latest technology.
“No longer will the United States be the world’s policeman. No longer will Washington impose her will upon the rest of the world. No longer will she alone shape the world our children and grandchildren will inherit. I am, therefore, suspending relations with the United States, effective immediately. I have ordered our embassy in Washington to be shut down. I have ordered our ambassador to be recalled. I am also ordering all those holding a U.S. passport — including those working at the U.S. Embassy here in Moscow and in U.S. consulates throughout the Russian Federation — to leave Russian soil within the next seven days or risk imprisonment on suspicion of espionage.
“No other foreign citizens visiting or working in the Russian Federation will be affected. Indeed, in the days ahead I look forward to speaking by phone or in person with the leaders and ambassadors of Russia’s friends and allies, beginning with members of the European Union with whom we see our future aligned.
“Have no doubt, sons and daughters of Mother Russia. I am aware that the responsibilities I have undertaken are enormous, and I do not take them lightly. But I do take them with confidence that our best days are ahead of us. Today is a historic day, my friends, the dawn of a new age, the birth of a new Russia — free, prosperous, rich, and strong, a Russia whose citizens are proud at home and have respect around the world — and I consider it my sacred duty to unite the people of Russia for this very purpose.”
20
The drugs were wearing off.
Bennett had tossed and turned for hours, unable to sleep yet unable to turn over, even onto his side, handcuffed as he was to the bed frame. Now the pain was excruciating, and he was alternately burning up with fever and chilled to the bone.
Since the end of the speech, Bennett’s thoughts had toggled back and forth from worrying about Erin to worrying about Gogolov. For now he was consumed with the latter. How had it come to this? How was it that the world’s most wanted man now possessed the world’s most dangerous weapons? And was Ilyushkin waiting somewhere in the wings? It didn’t wash. Could he have been killed after leaving Vadim’s office?
Bennett tried to sit up but again felt the handcuffs cutting into his wrists. He stared at the bars of fluorescent lights on the ceiling, then closed his eyes and again tried to reconstruct the scene at the Kremlin.
He recalled Ilyushkin giving the gun to Jibril and Jibril telling Vadim, Golitsyn, and Zyuganov to turn around and kneel down. He had heard the gunshots — one, then another, then a third. Had there been four? He remembered only three. So who had walked out of that room alive?
Ilyushkin, he was suddenly convinced, had not.
Suddenly, Bennett heard voices and footsteps, and then keys. The door burst open. A guard unlocked his handcuffs.
“Get up,” someone barked in English, pointing an automatic pistol at his face.