Brian Freemantle - Kings of Many Castles

Natalia frowned. “What else can I do?”

How would she confront the actually suspicion? “Something curious came up during our review.”

“What?”

“The thought that someone connected with the investigation might be part of the conspiracy: misleading or blocking things.” Charlie spoke looking directly at Natalia who looked directly back.

“Who?” she demanded.

“It was a general remark. You’ve probably got the widest overview of anyone. What do you think?”

Natalia shook her head. “I don’t see it. If we chase that we’ll confuse ourselves even more than we’re confused now.”

Charlie decided he knew her too well-had spent his entire life spotting deceit-not to have detected something in that reply, which he hadn’t. And yet..

Two planes were needed in addition to Air Force One to carry the number of Secret Service personnel, the travelling White House, Surgeon Admiral Max Donnington’s mobile hospital facilities and virtually every nationality of every accredited White House journalists, television as well as print. A carefully selected group of correspondents-the TV majors, commentators as well as political reporters from what was considered America’s national press and all the Texas media-travelled on the president’s aircraft. Anandale, word perfect from the secretary of state’s briefing papers, spent a full thirty minutes in the back of the presidential jet talking unattributablyon the European Union trade protectionism scheduled for discussion with British and French leaders. Despite limiting to hours the amount of time he would be in Moscow, he also intended to meet acting president Aleksandr Okulov. Because of the circumstance of the visit, it was inappropriate to go into any detail of the Star Wars treaty negotiations but as they all knew Secretary of State James Scamell had remained in Moscow, apart from this short trip to London. It was, quite naturally, a difficult personal return to Moscow for him. He had no safety concerns whatsoever, having complete confidence and trust in the joint security measures of the American Secret Service and the Russian presidential protection service. As its former and forever proud governor he deeply regretted the pointless time, money and effort being wasted by the politically hostile Texas legislature, time, money and effort that would these past months have been spent better and more properly governing the best state in the Union. He was pleased to say that the First Lady was responding to treatment and there was every reason to hope she would make a full recovery.

Back in his separate, private section of the aircraft, Anandale said, “OK?”

“You gave them enough for a whole month’s coverage,” judged Wendall North.

“I’ll have public affairs circulate it to the media on the other plane,” said Scamell. “Don’t want to leave anyone out.”

“You know what they’d rather see?” demanded the president, rhetorically. “They’d rather see me shot by the sons of bitches who missed me last time because it’s a better story.”

“They’re not going to get it,” assured North. “You’re coming back like this is good enough.”

“You speak to Donnington?”

“He talked to people in England, before we left. We’ll have names when we get back tonight.”

Jeff Aston, the head of the Secret Service detail, appeared from the flight deck. “We’re on our way down. The advance planes are already there. Everything’s set up.”

Anandale looked out of the window as the aircraft descended through the clouds and the flat, tree-tufted plain came into view.He said, “God awful place. No wonder no one smiles.”

They landed as before at the same military installation on the eastern outskirts of the city. There were three television positions, none elevated, and five still camera places. Between them and the arriving aircraft was an outwardly facing wall of Secret Servicemen through whom there were minimal gaps for unimpeded pictures. The specially-flown in bullet and blast proof Cadillac was hard topped, with darkly tinted windows, and drew up to within ten meters of the steps even before they were secured into position. At the same time Aleksandr Okulov and Boris Petrin emerged from their waiting, smoke-windowed Zil, to make their way forward in a greeting line with individual interpreters. There was a second, shielding line made up equally of Russian and American protection officers.

Walter Anandale emerged the moment the doors of Air Force One opened for the required, top-step photo opportunity but was dwarfed almost at once by Jeff Aston. Two more similarly-sized Secret Servicemen covered the president from the back and side, making awkward the crowded descent to the ground. Okulov was several inches shorter than Anandale and appeared even smaller against the American guards when he came forward to embrace Anandale, Russian bear-hug style. Anandale barely responded, anxious to be released.

The group moved so quickly towards the waiting vehicles that Scamell and Wendall North had to hurry down the steps to avoid being left behind. The American chief of staff supervised the transportation, ushering Aleksandr Okulov and Walter Anandale into the Cadillac, alone but for their interpreters. Anandale and Okulov sat side by side, their translators facing them from the jump seats. Lev Lvov, the Russian presidential protection chief, was crammed into the front seat alongside Jeff Aston, the raised glass partition closing them off from the rear of the vehicle.

Okulov said, “How’s the First Lady?”

“Recovering,” said Anandale. “Thank you.”

“Fully, I hope.”

“There’s still a lot of specialist treatment necessary.”

The armor plating, which extended from the sides down to theunderside of the car, brought its weight up to nine tons but it was still travelling at ninety m.p.h. down the central reservation of the cleared road. There were two ranks of escorting motorcycles, the outer line closing off any space left by the inner. It was impossible to hear the overhead helicopters, through the steel-reinforced roof.

Orkulov said, “I trust all the misunderstandings are resolved between us, over this investigation?”

“I believe they are. But the progress is slow,” said Anandale.

“The Englishman is appearing in court today.”

“Slow in detecting the others with whom he is involved.”

“I understand that immediately prior to the outrage no substantive difficulties remained between our two sides over the missile defense system?”

“There were some. There had been no independently confirmed statistics for nuclear holdings.”

“They have now been exchanged between our foreign minister and your secretary of state.”

“There remain uncertainties with China. And North Korea.”

“Uncertainties that existed-and stayed parallel-before and during our negotiations.”

“According to our intelligence North Korea is increasing its nuclear capacity, with Beijing’s assistance.”

There was a momentary silence. They were entering the city now, along barriered streets this time totally devoid of people apart from regularly distanced uniformed militia officers.

Okulov said, “That is not our information.”

Anandale shrugged. “You’ll accept, of course, that I have to make judgments upon the best advice I receive.”

“An enormous amount of time and even more commitment has gone into bringing our two sides to where we are now. It would be very unfortunate if at this stage it were to fail.”

“My secretary of state has remained in Moscow,” reminded Anandale. “We have publicly travelled into the city together today.”

“Does that mean our negotiations are going to be concluded with the signing of the treaty?” demanded Okulov, directly.