But Moscow was still silent.
Tony Abrams walked quickly into the north wing of the attic and knelt beside Marc Pembroke in the alcove. “Pembroke?”
He opened his eyes slowly. Abrams thought he looked very pale. Abrams said, “How are you doing?”
“Relative to what?”
Abrams smiled. “Listen, Van Dorn’s sending that Sikorsky helicopter to get us all out of here. You’ll be in a hospital soon.”
“Good. That’s where I belong. How is the mission progressing?”
“We’ve won the battle, but the war is still touch-and-go. Ann is broadcasting. It’s up to the Russians now.”
“Too bad. They’re an unpredictable lot of beggers. What time is it?”
“Approaching midnight. At least we won’t have long to wait.”
“No… and we’ve accomplished our mission, haven’t we?”
“Yes.”
“I lost some good people… Don’t tell me who, I’ll discover that soon enough. Listen Abrams… my job offer still stands. You’re very good.”
“Thanks, but I’m committed.”
“To what? To whom…?”
“The Red Devils.”
Pembroke looked at him. “Never heard of them.”
“Very secret. Okay, I just came by to check your temperature. Will you be all right alone for a while?”
“I’m always alone and I’m always all right. But thanks for dropping in.”
Abrams stood.
Pembroke looked at the open stairwell door. He said, “A few Russkies beat it that way. Only technicians. I let them go—”
“Of course. Just take it easy—”
“Listen, Abrams… Androv was with them—” Pembroke coughed, and a clot of blood passed through his lips.
Abrams knelt beside him again.
Pembroke seemed to be trying to remember something, then said, “I shot the bastard. Be a good chap and go see if he’s dead. Be careful, old man… guards down there… ”
Abrams moved cautiously to the stairwell and peered down. An open hallway door cast a shaft of light into the small foyer below and revealed a collapsed staircase covered with rubble. A ladder extended from the floor up to the attic. There was no sign of life, or of death. Abrams said, “The guards have decamped and taken any bodies with them.”
Pembroke nodded. “They’ve had enough of us. Wonder where they went…?” He thought a moment, then said, “I’m certain I hit the bastard in the head… ”
“I’m sure you did.”
Pembroke said, “Joan… Joan Grenville is down there… in the dumbwaiter… Take a few of my people…”
“Yes, she’ll be fine.” He didn’t want to tell Pembroke that there were few people left. He’d go get her. “Stop worrying about these things. We’re not helpless without you.” Abrams looked at his watch. “I have to go.”
“Wait… wait… Listen, I saw… I saw…”
“Yes?”
“I… I thought I was hallucinating… but I wasn’t… My mind is clear… ”
“Who did you see?”
“I saw Patrick O’Brien.”
Abrams stood motionless, then stared at Pembroke and Pembroke stared back. Abrams said, “Where did you see him?”
Pembroke motioned with his head. “There.”
Abrams shook his head. “No.”
“Yes. He was dressed in black… ”
Abrams stayed silent, then nodded. “Yes, you did.”
“Don’t humor me.”
“No, I believe you.”
Neither man spoke for some time, then Pembroke said, “What are you going to do about it?”
“What would you do about it? The mission is over. You earned your pay. Would you put in overtime and hope to get paid for it?”
Pembroke nodded. “Yes. If I could, I would.”
Abrams drew a deep breath, glanced back at the stairwell, then checked his watch. “Down there, you say?”
“Down there. Look in Androv’s office. That will be where any evidence will be, and he’d want to destroy that before he, too, begins his Odyssey to the nether regions.”
Abrams walked toward the stairwell.
72
Henry Kimberly walked quickly down the long, deserted first-floor corridor. The smell of burnt cordite hung in the smoke-laden air. Kimberly stopped at the bullet-marked door of Androv’s office. He thought Androv might be here to recover or destroy sensitive files.
Kimberly pushed the door open and entered the dimly lit office. He heard the cocking sound of a pistol near his ear. He stood motionless.
A voice close to his ear said in English, “Henry Kimberly, I presume.”
Kimberly nodded slightly. He turned his head and saw a man in a black jump suit. The two men faced each other and stared. Kimberly’s voice was barely audible as he said, “Patrick…”
O’Brien nodded.
Kimberly said, “You’re supposed to be dead.”
O’Brien smiled. “So are you.”
Kimberly’s eyes went to the gun. “If you’re going to kill me, do it and spare me another mawkish reunion.”
O’Brien lowered the pistol and said, “I caught a glimpse of you in the attic. Androv apparently was too preoccupied with dodging bullets to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
O’Brien replied, “I’m one of you.”
Kimberly stared at him, then said softly, “My God… No… you can’t be…”
“Why not? I was under suspicion during the war, and for good reason. You, however, never were the subject of the great werewolf hunt.” O’Brien thought a moment, then added, “It should have been I who disappeared and went to Moscow, Henry. And you should have come home and run the firm. You had family, and you had more prestige and better contacts here… but the people in Moscow work in strange ways, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
“And we never question orders, do we?”
“No, we don’t.” Kimberly glanced around the office and his eyes fell on the body of Claudia Lepescu, then returned to O’Brien. Kimberly said, “Where’s Androv?”
O’Brien shrugged. “I was waiting for him. Have you seen him?”
Kimberly replied, “He may be in the basement with the others. Let’s go.” He moved toward the door.
O’Brien made no move to follow. He said, “We’ll wait for him here.”
“Why?”
“Because, with the exception of you two, no one in America knows I’m alive, or who I really am.” O’Brien paused, then said, “I think we’ve lost this round, and I don’t want Androv to fall into the hands of our former compatriots.”
Kimberly looked at him, then nodded slowly. “Yes… I see… I think Moscow would approve.”
“I’m certain they would.” O’Brien smiled and said, “So, you were to be the next President.”
Kimberly nodded. “I may still be.” He glanced out the broken stained-glass windows. “We may yet see that flash of light.”
“We may. Only Moscow knows what Moscow will do.” O’Brien motioned to Kimberly. “Let’s wait for Androv here.” He walked to the window and sat on the sill. Kimberly drew closer and remained standing. O’Brien spoke softly, “You see, Henry, while life may have been hard for you in Moscow, at least you weren’t living the daily nightmare of a double agent. I’ve played the most dangerous and difficult game a man can play. I headed an intelligence network of extremely clever people — our old people — while at the same time I served the interests of our friends in Moscow.”
Kimberly asked, “How did you do it?”
O’Brien smiled. “With mirrors. I’m a magician, an illusionist, also an acrobat, and a juggler.” O’Brien continued, “It’s a tough act, my friend. In the past year, for instance, I had to satisfy the OSS that I was working on what they knew to be an extremely important matter, while at the same time I had to protect Moscow’s Operation Stroke, about which I knew little.”