“How would you do it?” Shevenko asked.
“A simple wet job. I’ve got people in my department who have made a career out of that sort of thing. It would appear to be a lovers’ quarrel between two homosexuals. Not uncommon, not even for Moscow.”
“Weapons?” Shevenko asked.
“Probably kitchen knives. A dual stabbing. We’d wait until after your aide had buggered his friend. The medical examiner could be coached to examine the artist’s bunghole for semen. Simple.”
Shevenko pushed back his chair and looked at the bill the waiter had laid on the table. He put some money on top of the bill and took the briefcase Simonov handed to him. He stood up.
“Tonight,” he said.
“Agreed,” Simonov said. “But we may have to wait a day, wait until your aide does his job on his little friend so the medical examiner will be able to find the evidence.”
“I’ll owe you for this,” Shevenko said as the two men walked toward the door of the cafeteria. “I always pay my debts, Anton.”
“There will be no debt,” Simonov said firmly. “I can never repay you what I owe you. For many things. Not the least of which is my wife’s peace of mind. Her mother is safe and happy in Israel, thanks to you. She and my wife pray for you each night. Think no more about it. Think about finding someone to be your aide.”
“I have someone in mind,” Shevenko said as the two men walked slowly along the sidewalk. The misting rain had stopped and a cool wind was blowing. “It will freeze by tomorrow,” Shevenko said.
“Who do you have in mind?” Simonov said. “I have a good man in my department who might be the man for you.”
“Sophia Blovin,” Shevenko said.
“Sophia?” Simonov grinned. “A man would be a fool not to bring that one along, to raise her up. And to lay her down!” He banged on Shevenko’s shoulder with a heavy fist and laughed.
“You never change, old friend! You know what we used to say in the Academy, about the girls? We used to say that if you made it the first time with a girl then you could be certain that Igor had been there ahead of you!”
Shevenko shook his head, smiling. “Those were good days. Tonight, if you can.”
“Leave it to me,” Simonov said.
CHAPTER 14
The early morning winter winds rattled a loose window in Captain Steel’s office and he went over to the window and pulled the drape across the glass, shutting out some of the cold air that came through the loose-fitting window frame and muffling the noise of the wind. He went back to his desk and sat down and watched as a Chief Electronics Technician patiently searched for hidden electronic bugs in his office. The Chief finished and packed away his gear in a box.
“Not a thing, sir,” he said to Captain Steel. “Everything’s as clean as a whistle.” Steel nodded and the Chief left the office. He stopped at the desk of Captain Steel’s Chief Yeoman, looking back over his shoulder to make sure the door to the office was closed tightly.
“What’s with him, he paranoid? Every other week he wants this place swept. Who the hell is going to bug an office in this area of the Pentagon?”
“Someone did, about eight years ago. Before I got here. He found the bug under his desk. That was back when he was fighting for appropriations for his submarines. He’s never forgotten it.”
“Why didn’t you get yourself a transfer,” the Chief Electronics Technician growled. “Got to be better billets than this one for a Chief with as many years in as you got.”
“It’s not too bad. He’s hard but he’s fair. Worst thing about him is you can’t drink coffee or smoke during working hours. He says coffee and cigarettes are poison. He might be right. I feel a hell of a lot better, not smoking or sucking up coffee all day long.”
Satisfied that his phone lines were electronically clean, Captain Steel dialed the private number of Representative Walter W. Wendell, Chairman of the House Armed Services Committee.
“Us country boys get up early,” the old Congressman drawled into the phone. “Yeah, I can meet you at that place. In about twenty minutes. Can’t give you too much time. Got to call a committee meeting and sort of take a fall out of one of my new members. Damned fool thinks he’s gonna get a new Naval Reserve Armory for his district. Hell, the Naval Reserve is the biggest boondoggle we got and I ain’t releasin’ no funds for another pile of bricks. Twenty minutes.”
The Congressman ordered coffee, ignoring the cold stare of disapproval from Captain Steel. He hunched over the table and dug a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack and straightened it between his arthritic fingers and lit it, not bothering to blow the smoke away from Captain Steel.
“Had one of my best bird dogs do a rundown on Brannon,” he said. “The bird dog’s good at his trade. He can find rich black dirt where you and me see nothin’ but gravel. He couldn’t find nothin’ in Brannon’s life, official or private, we can use against him.”
“Which means?” Captain Steel rasped.
“Which means the easy way ain’t there. I even had a friend ask old J. Edgar if they had anything on Brannon in J. Edgar’s private files. Negative, as they say in the military.”
“I gave you enough information to use, enough to haul him before a congressional investigation committee,” Steel said.
“And I told you what I thought of that information. I know what he did was wrong. General MacArthur was wrong too, but Brannon’s smarter than MacArthur was. Brannon did something wrong that was so damned big and wrong that I’d say every mother’s son of a voter out there in this great nation would stand up and holler that this is what we should have been doing ever since the Roosians euchred us out of half of Europe after the war.” He sat back in his chair and sipped at his coffee and then he leaned forward, his elbows on the table.
“The Roosians sank one of your missile submarines. And Michael P. Brannon gave the order to sink the submarine that sank our submarine. And he got that submarine sunk. And the Roosians ain’t done nothin’ in return. And probably won’t.”
“The Soviet Navy has put all its submarines on full war alert,” Captain Steel said.
“I know about that,” the Congressman said. “Used an old code, didn’t they? A code that everyone can read without no trouble. They want everyone to know that they’re chompin’ at the bit, ready to go to war.
“Well, shit! Reminds me of a bully we had in our town when I was a boy. He’d put a stick on his shoulder and dare the smaller kids to knock it off. If no one knocked it off he’d punch some of the littler kids and then laugh. Told my pappy about that and he told me that the next time it happened I should knock the stick off’n his shoulder and if I didn’t he’d whop me with his belt. My daddy could whop the shit right out of you with that belt of his.”
“And I suppose you knocked the chip off the bully’s shoulder,” Captain Steel said in a bored voice.
“I did and I purely kicked the shit out of that old boy.” The old man smiled at the memory. “I don’t know whether it was he couldn’t really fight or if it was that I was more scared of my daddy and his belt than I was of that bigger boy. Didn’t make no never mind. He never bothered us kids again.” He signaled the waitress for a refill for his coffee cup and lit another cigarette.