by Rebecca York
She was just turning back to the phone when the sound of gunfire made her finger freeze over the dial.
Oh, God! Hramov must be here! He must have come upon Aleksei in surprise. Instinctively her hand reached out and flipped the switch that activated the projection system once again. Then she pressed the buttons labeled A1, A2, and A3. Then, with no other recourse to save him, she fled headlong up the stairs.
* * *
AP HARMONY, VERMONT. THREE PERSONS BELIEVED TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH A LEFTIST TERRORIST GROUP PERISHED IN AN EXPLOSION IN THIS SMALL NEW ENGLAND TOWN YESTERDAY. THOUGH FEW DETAILS ARE AVAILABLE, THE FBI HAS INDICATED THAT THE TWO MEN AND ONE WOMAN WERE UNDER INVESTIGATION IN CONNECTION WITH THE MANUFACTURE OF HOMEMADE MUNITIONS. THE BLAST DESTROYED SEVERAL HOUSES AT THE WEST END OF MAIN STREET IN THE LITTLE HAMLET. THE MUNITIONS MAKERS WERE THE ONLY FATALITIES, BUT TWO RESIDENTS FISHING NEARBY WERE TREATED AT AN AREA HOSPITAL FOR INJURIES CAUSED BY FLYING DEBRIS.
ACCORDING TO SERVICE STATION OWNER, BERT GREENTREE, THE BLAST KNOCKED OUT WINDOWS ALL OVER HARMONY. HE ADDED THAT TOWNSPEOPLE WERE SHOCKED TO DISCOVER THAT AN ARSENAL WAS BEING MANUFACTURED AND STORED IN THE QUIET LITTLE TOWN.
* * *
THE FALCON’S expression was enigmatic as he finished the short news story on a back page of The New York Times and handed the section to his assistant. In a way it was fitting that this whole thing had started with an explosion and had ended with one as well.
Connie scanned the article. “Well, you told me to expect something like this, but it doesn’t make it any easier to take.”
In a rare show of affection, Gordon reached out and grasped her hand. “Connie, in our profession, we have to be philosophical. I wanted something a lot better for the Raven, too, but it wasn’t meant to be.”
“I don’t like the way we had to work this out. He should have been proclaimed a national hero and been thanked by the President for his tremendous sacrifice.”
“Well, at least he has the satisfaction of knowing that the Topaz material got into the right hands. It’s already having the stabilizing effect on the balance of world power that he hoped it would.”
“We owe him a lot, and Julie McLean too.”
Epilogue
His name was Adam Ross. Once he had been a raven. Now he cast his lot with the eagles soaring majestically above the pine-covered mountains. The Black Hills of South Dakota were a perfect refuge for a man with a new name, a new identity, a new profession and a new country, he thought as he looked out over the rugged landscape.
Pushing his chair away from the word processor, he stood up. One thing was certainly true. It hadn’t taken long to get used to his new wardrobe of comfortable jeans and bulky sweaters, he thought, stretching his long arms over his head. There was a nip in the air, and snow flurries had already danced past the floor-to-ceiling windows of the redwood and stone house that was perched to take advantage of the mountain view. He was looking forward to seeing the landscape blanketed in white.
The past few months had been difficult, and he knew there were still plenty of problems ahead. But the solitude and natural beauty of this place were having their own healing effect on the wounds of his body and soul. Throwing open the French doors to the deck that cantilevered over the valley, he stepped out and took a deep breath of the pine-scented air.
Nicole Ross, his slender, dark-haired wife, was standing by the railing. Nicole. They’d picked the name together. He loved the sound of it. He loved her. And he owed her so much.
She had saved his life, not just at the warehouse when Hramov had been pointing a gun at his stomach, but also in Harmony, Vermont. When the killer had surprised him working on the electronics equipment and wounded him in the side, she’d flipped the switch that activated the projectors. Suddenly Hramov had been confronted with multiple images of the man he’d come to kill. They’d drawn his fire long enough for the Raven to finish him off.
It had been Gary Conrad’s decision to blow up the house and Hramov with it.
“That’s what he came here for,” the agent had pointed out. “Bogolubov will think you’re dead and that Hramov somehow got himself killed in his own trap.”
The Raven had seen the wisdom of the decision. The whole point of the Harmony charade had been to satisfy the general’s lust for revenge. The amazing thing was that the CIA had been able to direct Hramov’s actions with posthypnotic suggestions before they allowed him to escape. But as Conrad had explained it, “We’re not programming him to do something that goes against his training or his character. We’re just making sure he does it our way.”
Of course, the assassin was supposed to do his job and report back to the general. The gun battle and his death hadn’t been foreseen. But they’d made that work for them. And now the Raven no longer existed.
As Adam stepped outside, Nicole turned and held out her hand.
“Well, hello,” she said simply. The words were casual, but they conveyed a wealth of emotion. Every time she looked at this man, she realized all over again how deeply she was committed to him. She’d been his wife for only a few months, but already her old life seemed like an eternity away. “What are you thinking?” she asked, seeing the emotions that played across his face.
“How lucky I am to have you.”
“I was just standing here marveling at the same thing.”
Coming up behind her, he wrapped her in his arms and drew her close against the length of his body as he looked out over the valley.
There were still many nights when he woke and reached for her, needing the reassurance that she was really here with him. If his own change of circumstances had been a necessity, hers had been voluntary. She could have opted out before the charade in Harmony, Vermont, and gone back to her own life. Instead she’d chosen to give up everything familiar to come with him. Every time he thought about it, his heart was pierced with a fierce ache that he’d found a woman like her. He knew it was more than luck. Fate must have intervened in their lives to bring them together.
“How’s the writing coming?” she asked softly.
“I finished the chapter,” he announced. He was setting down some of his own experiences now, getting more comfortable with English, letting Nicole show him the fine points of the language with her invaluable editing. That project was a form of therapy for both of them. But soon he was going to try his hand at the fictional stories he had wanted to write for so long.
“That’s wonderful, but I thought it was going to take you till dinnertime.”
A warm smile flickered at the corners of his well-shaped lips. “I believe you mentioned a little incentive for finishing early.”
She smiled back, the golden highlights in her eyes glowing possessively as they caressed his face. “Then perhaps you ought to collect your reward.”
ISBN: 978-1-4592-8361-9
Flight of the Raven
Copyright © 1986 by Ruth Glick and Eileen Buckholtz
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