No! They can’t be doing that, reason told him. I have a diplomatic passport. I was seen alive by too many people. Probably the Ambassador is already—But he wouldn’t be. He wasn’t cleared for what had happened, and unless they got word off the plane . . . Regardless, they couldn’t possibly . . . But in the Soviet Union, the saying went, things happened that simply didn’t happen. The car’s door flew open. Golovko got out and pulled Ryan with him. The only thing Jack was sure of now was that there was no point in resistance.
It was a house, a quite ordinary frame house in the woods. The windows glowed yellow from lights behind the curtains. Ryan saw a dozen or so people standing around, all with uniforms, all with rifles, all staring at him with the same degree of interest given a paper target. One, an officer, came over and frisked Ryan with considerable thoroughness, eliciting a grunt of pain when he got to the bloody knee and torn trousers. He surprised Ryan with what might have been a perfunctory apology. The officer nodded to Golovko and Vatutin, who handed over their automatics and led Ryan into the house.
Inside the door, a man took their coats. Two more men in civilian clothes were obvious police or KGB types. They wore unzipped jackets, and they had to be packing pistols from the way they stood, Jack knew. He nodded politely to them, and got no response other than another frisking from one while the other watched from a safe shooting distance. Ryan was astonished when the two KGB officers were frisked as well. When this was complete, the other one motioned them through a doorway.
General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union Andrey Il’ych Narmonov was sitting in an overstuffed chair in front of a newly built fire. He rose when the four men entered the room, and gestured for them to sit on the sofa opposite his place. The bodyguard took position standing behind the head of the Soviet government. Narmonov spoke in Russian. Golovko translated.
“You are?”
“John Ryan, sir,” Jack said. The General Secretary pointed him to a chair opposite his own, and noted that Ryan favored his leg.
“Anatoliy,” he said to the bodyguard, who took Ryan’s arm and walked him to a first-floor bathroom. The man dampened a washcloth with warm water and handed it over. Back in the sitting room, he could hear people talking, but Ryan’s knowledge of Russian was too thin to catch any of it. It was good to wash off the leg, but it looked as though the pants were finished, and the nearest change of clothes—he checked his watch—was probably near Denmark by now. Anatoliy watched him the whole time. The bodyguard pulled a gauze bandage from the medicine cabinet and helped Jack tape it in place, then walked him back as gracefully as Ryan’s aches and pains allowed.
Golovko was still there, though Vatutin had left, and the empty chair was still waiting. Anatoliy took his former place behind Narmonov.
“The fire feels good,” Jack said. “Thank you for letting me wash the knee off.”
“Golovko tells me that we did not do that to you. Is this correct?”
It seemed an odd question to Jack, since Golovko was handling the translating. So Audrey Ily’ch speaks a little English, does he?
“No, sir, I did it to myself. I have not been mistreated in any way.” Just had the piss scared out of me, Ryan thought to himself. But that’s my own damned fault. Narmonov looked at him with silent interest for perhaps half a minute before speaking again.
“I did not need your help.”
“I do not know what you mean, sir,” Ryan lied.
“Did you really think that Gerasimov could remove me?”
“Sir, I don’t know what you are talking about. My mission was to save the life of one of our agents. To do this meant compromising Chairman Gerasimov. It was just a matter of fishing with the proper bait.”
“And fishing for the proper fish,” Narmonov commented. The amusement in his voice did not show on his face. “And your agent was Colonel Filitov?”
“Yes, sir. You know that.”
“I just learned it.”
Then you know that Yazov was compromised also. Just how close might they have come, Comrade General Secretary? Ryan did not say. Probably Narmonov didn’t know either.
“Do you know why he turned traitor?”
“No, I don’t. I was briefed only on what I needed to know.”
“And therefore you do not know about the attack on our Project Bright Star?”
“What?” Jack was very surprised, and showed it.
“Don’t insult me, Ryan. You do know the name.”
“It’s southeast of Dushanbe. I know it. Attacked?” he asked.
“As I thought. You know that was an act of war,” Narmonov observed.
“Sir, KGB officers kidnapped an American SDI scientist several days ago. That was ordered by Gerasimov himself. His name is Alan Gregory. He’s a major in the U.S. Army, and he was rescued.”
“I don’t believe it,” Golovko said before translating. Narmonov was annoyed by the interruption, but shocked by the substance of Ryan’s statement.
“One of your officers was captured. He’s alive. It is true, sir,” Jack assured him.
Narmonov shook his head and rose to toss another log on the fire. He maneuvered it into place with a poker. “It’s madness, you know,” he said at the hearth. “We have a perfectly satisfactory situation now.”
“Excuse me? I don’t understand,” Ryan asked.
“The world is stable, is it not? Yet your country wishes to change this, and forces us to pursue the same goal.” That the ABM test site at Sary Shagan had been operating for over thirty years was, for the moment, beside the point.
“Mr. Secretary, if you think the ability to turn every city, every home in my country into a fire like the one you have right there—”
“My country, too, Ryan,” Narmonov said.
“Yes, sir, your country, too, and a bunch of others. You can kill most every civilian in my country, and we can murder almost every person in your country, in sixty minutes or less from the time you pick up the phone—or my President does. And what do we call that? We call it ‘stability.’ ”
“It is stability, Ryan,” Narmonov said.
“No, sir, the technical name we use is MAD: Mutual Assured Destruction, which isn’t even good grammar, but it’s accurate enough. The situation we have now is mad, all right, and the fact that supposedly intelligent people have thought it up doesn’t make it any more sensible.”
“It works, doesn’t it?”
“Sir, why is it stabilizing to have several hundred million people less than an hour away from death? Why do we view weapons that might protect those people to be dangerous? Isn’t that backwards?”
“But if we never use them . . . Do you think that I could live with such a crime on my conscience?”
“No, I don’t think that any man could, but someone-might screw up. He’d probably blow his brains out a week after the fact, but that might be a little late for the rest of us. The damned things are just too easy to use. You push a button, and they go, and they’ll work, probably, because there’s nothing to stop them. Unless something stands in their way, there’s no reason to think that they won’t work. And as long as somebody thinks they might work, it’s too easy to use them.”
“Be realistic, Ryan. Do you think that we’ll ever rid ourselves of atomic arms?” Narmonov asked.
“No, we’ll never get rid of all the weapons. I know that. We’ll both always have the ability to hurt each other badly, but we can make that process more complicated than it is now. We can give everybody one more reason not to push the button. That’s not destabilizing, sir. That’s just good sense. That’s just something more to protect your conscience.”
“You sound like your President.” This was delivered with a smile.
“He’s right.” Ryan returned it.
“It is bad enough that I must argue with one American. I will not do so with another. What will you do with Gerasimov?” the General Secretary asked.
“It will be handled very quietly, for the obvious reason,” Jack said, hoping that he was right.
“It would be very damaging to my government if his defection became public. I suggest that he died in a plane crash …”
“I will convey that to my government if I am permitted to do so. We can also keep Filitov’s name out of the news. We have nothing to gain by publicity. That would just complicate things for your country and mine. We both want the arms treaty to go forward—all that money to save, for both of us.”
“Not so much,” Narmonov said. “A few percentage points of the defense budgets on both sides.”