Brian Freemantle - Kings of Many Castles

One of the larger reception rooms at the U.S. embassy was assigned for the gathering mainly because the satellite screen was large enough to encompass the seated, waiting Washington Cabinet members. It dominated virtually one entire wall, and most of a connecting corner overflowed with cameras and relay equipment to ensure the exchanges were simultaneous. Wendall North resolved the Washington hesitancy at the president’s preoccupied, head-down filmed entry into the Moscow meeting by standing. Everyone followed, in both cities. Anandale waved them down, without speaking, and before sitting himself discarded his jacket and loosened his tie with another gesture for anyone to do the same if they wanted.

From Washington, Vice President Robert Clarke said, “I want toextend the sympathy of everyone here for what’s happened, Mr. President. And wish the First Lady a very quick and full recovery.”

There was a verbal scramble to be placed on record from others in the room, which Anandale curtly stopped with a series of “Thank you, thank you,” after Secretary of Defense Wilfred Pinkton repeated practically word for word what the Treasury secretary had managed to say seconds ahead of him.

“I met with Acting President Aleksandr Okulov earlier today,” announced Anandale. “He wants to continue the treaty negotiations. Suggested that at least we could agree a Protocol of Intent.”

North said, “There needs to be a statement, to go with today’s pictures. Trishin’s proposing a joint press conference, you and Okulov together.”

“Which establishes my supporting Okulov as the successor,” said Anandale.

“He is, under their constitution,” said the secretary of state. James Scamell was another old time ally from Anandale’s governorship.

“Emergency,” qualified Anandale. “Temporarily, until proper elections if Yudkin doesn’t make it. If Okulov runs and loses against the communists, I’m shown to have endorsed the wrong guy.”

“If he hadn’t been shot and Yudkin had still lost to the communists you’d have been doing that coming here,” Scamell pointed out. “We’ve got to say something about the treaty.”

Anandale looked directly at the camera. “What’s Defense’s feeling on this?”

“The Joint Chiefs are nervous about a communist succession,” said Pinkton. “We sure Okulov’s got the following to take over?”

“Maybe we should have the local opinion on that?” avoided Scamell, turning to the ambassador.

Cornell Burton was a career diplomat who’d believed himself on the fast upward track the presidential visit could only further speed up but now he wasn’t so sure. What he was sure about was that he couldn’t afford one misstep. “Okulov’s a closed-doors manipulator. Respected for it in the Duma but he’s alienated some of the smaller parties he’d need for a coalition if the communists do anywhere near as well as is being predicted.”

“So how well will they do?” demanded Anandale.

“Yudkin would have carried a peace vote, with a successful treaty. I’m not so convinced that Okukov will.”

“What’s the KGB story?”

The attention switched to John Kayley. The FBI man said, “Yudkin forced the reforms through and Okulov showed him how to do it. Word is among the old guard that Okulov’s regarded as a traitor, turning against them.”

“Which could be a very clever double-bluff,” suggested Burt Jordan.

“Explain that,” demanded Anandale.

“Okulov was the heir-in-waiting. What if he got too impatient to wait any longer?”

“Keep on top of that,” ordered Anandale. “Okulov’s KGB connections worry me.”

“Aren’t we leaving something hugely important out of the equation?” suggested North. “The guy who did it. And why he did it? If he turns out to be a protesting communist we’ve got a whole new picture to color in.”

“Is he?”

Anandale put the question to those around him but the answer came too eagerly from Washington, from an FBI Director determined the American investigation should be Bureau-led. Paul Smith, a burly former circuit judge, said, “I’ve got twenty more agents on their way to Moscow, arriving later tonight. They’re bringing with them all our files-Agency and Bureau-on Peter Bendall, the father. He was British counter-intelligence’s disaster. I understand from John, who’s with you there Mr. President, that their guy’s let us have all he says they’ve got. The son’s still unconscious, maybe even in a coma. The mother’s in custody. We’ve been promised details of her interrogation but we’ve asked for our own access. And for the witnesses list. They were all rounded up by Russian security directly after the attack. We’ve asked for the rifle, for our own forensic examination here at Pennsylvania Avenue and …”

“We’re not making our own, independent investigation!” cut off Anandale.

Smith unconsciously bit his lip, at once regretting not letting Kayley take the original question. “That’s what I’ve got men ontheir way to do, under John’s command. I think, though, it would be useful for me to come over personally.”

Speaking with ominous quietness, Anandale said, “I want the attempted murder of the American president’s wife investigated by Americans. Until I’m satisfied that’s happening-satisfied that Aleskandr Okulov is keeping every cooperation promise he’s made to me today-any treaty discussions are on the back burner, with the heat down low …”

North and the secretary of state exchanged brief, frowning looks. Scamell urged again, “There has to be a statement of some sort, Mr. President.”

Anandale remained silent for several moments. “Here it is. We’re in consultations with the emergency Russian leadership … need to consider the implications of the attack … our pledge to continued cooperation and detente unaffected … that sort of stuff. It’ll fit the hospital pictures. We don’t agree any joint media event with Okulov until we get all we want.” He went to the secretary of state and the ambassador. “I want you to liaise with Wendall. Really find out the communist strength. It might play better back home to go hawkish and keep the defense system.” He looked around the table. “Any thoughts?”

“Yudkin-or his successor-need the treaty to survive. That’s why we’re here,” reminded Scamell. “We leave them with nothing, we’re edging the door open to the opposition.”

“We don’t leave them with nothing,” said Anandale. “You find the words, Jamie. The only thing they don’t get is the final signature. We’ve surely blown enough smoke about how difficult it all is to make that totally believable!”

“I guess so,” accepted Scamell.

Anandale went to Wendall North. “Get on to Yudkin’s chief of staff.” He stopped, snapping his fingers.

“Yuri Trishin.”

“Trishin,” picked up the prompted president. “I don’t want him-or anyone he’s got to tell-left in any doubt who’s going to run this investigation as far as my wife is concerned. You clear on that?”

“Quite clear,” said North.

“Would you like me to come over personally, Mr. President?” hopefully asked the FBI Director over the satellite link.

“No!” rejected Anandale, at once. “We’ve got enough chiefs here already. What we need is Indians.”

John Kayley, with his early settler family legend of part-Cherokee ancestry, didn’t like the smoke signals he thought he was reading.

The emergency Downing Street meeting was scheduled for the entire day but Sir Rupert Dean, the director-general, returned to the Millbank building with political adviser Patrick Pacey by early afternoon. The rest of the control group were already assembled.