Peter Sasgen - War Plan Red

“Mr. Stretzlof, I can explain everything—”

Stretzlof cut Alex off with a vigorous chop of his hand that made his jowls oscillate. “I want to hear Captain Scott’s explanation, not yours, Dr. Thorne.”

“My ‘adventure,’ as you call it,” Scott said, “concerns the murder of an American naval officer—”

“Total conjecture on your part, Captain, isn’t that so?” Stretzlof interrupted. “The official FSB report states that Drummond committed suicide.”

“The FSB report is wrong.”

Stretzlof showed mock surprise. “Is it, now? And I suppose you have ironclad proof to refute the FSB.”

“Yes, I do have some information, and I expect to have more soon. Alex—Dr. Thorne—has assisted in the investigation. I believe Frank may have been murdered because he uncovered information about Chechen terrorist activity in Russia.”

“My, my, you are quite the detective,” Stretzlof said. He put his cola aside. “But General Radford’s orders don’t authorize you to conduct a police investigation.”

“They also don’t authorize you to enlist Alex to help you,” Hoffman added.

“I volunteered, David,” said Alex. “Because I had worked with Admiral Drummond, I thought that any information I had might be helpful to Captain Scott’s investigation.”

“There you go again,” Stretzlof said. “Captain Scott is not here to conduct an investigation. Is that understood?”

Alex said, “Mr. Stretzlof, David, I was very skeptical when Jake told me that he believed Frank was murdered. But I’ve seen evidence—some of it circumstantial, I admit—that challenges the FSB report. Also, we think—”

“Alex, that’s enough,” Scott said.

“No, let her speak,” Stretzlof said.

“I’m not authorized to reveal what we know, nor is she,” Scott said.

“Really? Aren’t you lucky that you are able to interpret your orders to suit your every whim.”

“You’ve got it wrong, Mr. Stretzlof. I’m not doing any such thing and I’m not playing detective. What I am trying to do is find out why an American was murdered in Russia. If it involves terrorism, it should concern you too.”

Stretzlof’s face turned hard as flint. “Don’t presume to tell me what should or should not concern me. I know something of your background, Captain, and you appear to have a penchant for taking matters into your own hands when the orders you’ve been issued don’t suit.”

“The facts, if you bothered to look at them, may prove your assumptions wrong,” Scott said.

Hoffman cleared his throat. “Alex, Mr. Stretzlof and I have decided that you are to withdraw from further involvement in Captain Scott’s assignment. Is that understood?”

“David, I—”

“Is it?” Hoffman insisted.

She nodded.

“Good. The President arrives in St. Petersburg next Wednesday….”

“I know the President’s schedule, David.”

“Then you also know we still have a lot to do to get ready.”

“And I’m doing it,” Alex said, not hiding her annoyance and embarrassment at being treated like a glorified secretary.

“Don’t take it out on Alex,” Scott said to Hoffman. “I drafted her to work with me on this investigatic and she’s done a great job.”

“I told you, Scott, she works for DOE, not the U.S. Navy.”

Stretzlof raised a hand. “And how far have you gotten with this ‘investigation’?” he asked drily.

“I plan to report my findings to General Radford this evening.”

“Yes, do that,” Stretzlof said. He opened a file folder and took out a message flimsy, which he slid across the table to Scott. “This is from General Radford. You’ll note that I am also an addressee.”

Scott took a quick look at the message and said, “Thank you.”

Stretzlof stood. “Until General Radford either countermands your present orders or modifies them in some way, and as long as you are in country, you will cease making further inquiries into Admiral Drummond’s suicide. For the record, I will report this conversation to the ambassador.”

They were all standing. “For the record,” Scott said, “I will report this conversation to General Radford.”

“Good day,” said Stretzlof, departing.

Hoffman said to Alex on his way out, “There’s a staff meeting at four.”

Alone with Scott in the safe room, Alex said, “I’m sorry. Stretzlof could use a good kick in the balls. David too.”

Scott wasn’t paying attention, so she sidled up to him and said, “What does General Radford want?”

Scott showed her the message flimsy. It said, REPORT AT ONCE.

There was a knock on the door. “May I come in?”

“We’re supposed to stay away from each other,” Scott said.

Alex entered Drummond’s apartment. She had on the down-filled vest, a silk shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Her hair looked freshly washed and she smelled good. “Professionally, not socially. Anyway, what I do on my own time is none of Viktor’s or David’s business.”

“How’d the staff meeting go?” Scott said.

“Boring. I thought I’d find you here. What are you doing?”

“I’ve finished packing Frank’s things.” Scott pointed to several boxes sealed with special tamperproof tape sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room. There were also two zippered garment bags filled with Drummond’s uniforms and civilian clothes, and a big battered aluminum suitcase. He kicked one of the boxes. “Files.”

Alex looked around the apartment. “It’s like Frank was never here.”

“That’s how Stretzlof wants it.”

“Did you talk to General Radford?”

“When I’m good and ready.”

“Won’t that make things worse?”

Scott snorted. “What can he do? Order me back to the States without Frank’s body?”

Alex hugged herself. “Have you made final arrangements?”

“The paperwork is all filled out.” He pointed to it on the coffee table. “I’ll give it to Abakov tomorrow. He’s involved with the investigation into the two shootings, the one in St. Petersburg and the one in Murmansk.” He stopped being busy and looked at her.

She met his gaze but said nothing.

“Care for a drink?” he asked. “I saw a bottle around here somewhere.”

“Sure.” She removed her down vest and hung it over a chair.

They sat on the sofa and drank iced vodka. Alex put her feet up on the coffee table, careful to avoid the paperwork for Abakov. “When you leave Russia, will you go back to your submarine?”

“That’s up to Radford,” Scott said.

“He’s not your commanding officer.”

“He is now. He’ll have a lot to say about what happens to me after this stint in Moscow. I have a feeling he’s not going to be happy with the fact that I—what was it Stretzlof said? ‘Expanded my warrant.’ How fucking quaint.”

Alex hesitated but after reflecting, said, “What did Stretzlof mean when he said he knew about your background, about you taking matters into your own hands? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“He was referring to something I was involved in a while back. I had some problems.”

“In other words, you don’t want to talk about it.”

Scott, hunched on the edge of the sofa, said nothing.

“I’m sorry.” She came upright and put her glass on the table. “Maybe I should go.”

He looked back at her. “No. Don’t go.” He reached for her arm to stop her.

She sat back, turning slightly so she could look at him.

Scott flopped against the cushions. “It was a special-ops mission. We almost lost some men; orders got fouled up. I did something I wasn’t supposed to do and it’s followed me wherever I go. Even to Moscow.”

Part of his past had hurtled out of a dark place and he wasn’t sure how it had happened. Her silence made him hesitate to say any more about it.