by Allan Topol
Betty placed the call. “He’s here,” she said.
Craig checked his watch. A little past four. “Rush hour traffic to Potomac is a bitch. I better get started if I want to get there before Hennessey. Meantime, I’d like you to stay in the office this evening, Betty.” He turned to Elizabeth. “You should go home. I’ll see you there.”
“You want to tell us what you’re planning to do with Hennessey?” Betty asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
Hennessey lived in a huge estate that Craig estimated to be in the eight million plus range. With three large, round white columns in front, the house was set back from River Road, at the end of a long driveway that gradually sloped upwards. The grounds were perfectly manicured.
As Phillip, his driver, made the circle in front of the house, Craig noticed the house was dark inside. Craig reached for the door handle and asked Philip to go back to River Road and wait about a quarter of a mile away.
It only took Craig twenty seconds to pick the lock and another twenty to disarm the security system in the dark house.
Craig walked through the house to make certain it was empty. Even into the wine cellar. Hennessey had good taste. Only cases of Margaux, Mouton, and Haut Brion. Must be nice to be rich and drink five hundred dollar bottles of wine every night.
Satisfied no one else was there, Craig sat down in the living room; and he waited.
An hour and a half later, he heard a car drive up, the garage door go up, and a key in a side door.
As soon as Craig saw Hennessey walk into the entrance hall, and turn on the lights, Craig stood up and came forward. “Hello, RJ.”
Hennessey jumped back in surprise. “How’d you get in?”
“Your security isn’t very good.”
“What do you want?”
“Come with me into the living room. I think we should talk.”
Hennessey turned on a couple of lamps and sat down on the sofa. Craig was in a wing-back chair facing him.
“What do you want?” Hennessey repeated.
“Tell me the last time you met or spoke with William March.”
“We had dinner in Washington last week at the Capital Grille. The same day as the Task Force meeting. Whichever day that was. Why do you want to know?”
“What’d you talk about?” Craig said in a sharp, accusatory tone.
“Why are you asking me?”
“You’re in a lot of trouble. Now answer the question.”
“I want to call a lawyer.”
“Is that how they taught you to respond at Princeton? Or maybe in the Harvard MBA Program. Plenty of those hot shots on Wall Street need lawyers.”
Hennessey pulled a cellphone from his pocket.
Before he had a chance to dial, Craig removed a gun from a shoulder holster. “Drop the phone and answer the question.”
“Or what?”
“I’ll shoot your left knee cap first. Then I’ll move onto the right one if I have to. Generally I don’t. The pain is too great.”
Hennessey was perspiring. The phone fell out of his hand and hit the floor with a thud. “You can’t do this.”
“But I am. You put Jill Morgan’s life at risk. The woman whose safety you were so worried about. You don’t deserve to live.”
Hennessey’s hands were shaking.
“Now answer my question.”
“It was a social dinner. Bill and I talked about lots of things.”
“And you told him about the Task Force meeting that day. How upset you were that I was putting Jill Morgan out there as a dangle. Didn’t you?”
“Yes. Because I thought what you were doing was wrong.” Speaking in a self-righteous tone, Hennessey continued, “And your attitude toward us was outrageous. Nobody elected you president. You were treating us like schoolchildren. Not your professional equals who could have helped formulate policy. It made me so sick that I decided to leave the government. I wanted to go back to Hansell Gray. I was treated with more respect there.”
“What did March say?”
“That you were a real shit and didn’t care about anybody else.”
“Are you aware that your friend, March, committed treason against the United States a year and a half ago, when he was Ambassador to China, and wasn’t charged because of political considerations?”
The color drained from Hennessey’s face. “Is that true? I had
no idea.”
“Give me all of March’s contact info. Telephone numbers and home address.”
Hennessey reeled them off from memory while Craig wrote
them down.
Then Craig called Betty and explained what he had learned from Hennessey. “Have someone check the records of all of March’s phones and email. I’m looking for any communications with anyone in China. Also check flight manifests for the last week. New York or Washington to Beijing or Shanghai. See if William March was a passenger.”
Thirty minutes later, Betty called with the information.
“At ten forty-eight on the evening March had dinner with Hennessey, March used his cell phone to call Beijing. The next day he flew from New York to Beijing. He returned the following day.”
“Perfect,” Craig told Betty. “Set up the safe house on Route 29 near Charlottesville for a visitor this evening. Have two agents come out to Hennessey’s house to pick him up and take him to the safe house.”
Craig called Philip to come to Hennessey’s house. Then he turned to Hennessey. “I’m putting you into protective custody for a few days for your own protection. If March learned what you just told me, he’d kill you. Besides you leaked confidential information to him. It’ll be up to the AG to decide whether to charge you.”
“You can’t just do this summarily. I’m an American citizen. We have laws in this country.”
“That’s true, but since 9/11 they’ve gotten a little squishy where matters of national security are involved.”
While waiting for Philip, Craig instructed Hennessey to call his office and put a message on his secretary’s voice mail, telling her that Hennessey would be going out of town on State Department business for a few days.
Once Philip arrived, Craig handed him the gun and said, “Watch Hennessey until two of our people come to pick him up.”
“Will do, Mr. Page.”
“Oh, and give me the keys. I need the car. They’ll drop you somewhere convenient when they’re taking Hennessey to Charlottesville.”
Once Craig got into the car, he checked his watch. Eight o’clock in the evening. He called Ralph Donovan, the president’s Chief of Staff. “I have to see President Treadwell.”
“Can it wait until morning?”
“Unfortunately not.”
Craig heard a sigh, “Hold on. I’ll check.”
A minute later, Donovan was back. “The president will meet you in the Oval Office at ten o’clock this evening.”
“Thanks. Please tell him I’ll have Elizabeth Crowder with me. Also, I think it would be good if you could have Attorney General Wilson there or someone high ranking from DOJ. It’s time to make this legal.”
Exactly at ten, Craig and Elizabeth filed into the Oval Office. The AG, Treadwell, and Donovan were already there. The AG and Donovan, dressed in suits and ties; Treadwell in slacks and an open collar shirt.
There was a fourth man whom Craig didn’t recognize. Dignified and patrician was how Craig would have described him. About sixty, with a full head of gray hair, dressed in a starched white shirt with diamond studded French cuffs and a red silk Hermes tie, loosened at the neck. No jacket.
Treadwell made the introductions. “Craig and Elizabeth, you know Donovan, my Chief of Staff, and the Attorney General.”
Craig and Elizabeth nodded. Treadwell pointed to the other man. “This is Edward Bryce. He’s a close friend, powerful Washington lawyer, and my informal advisor on certain sensitive issues. We were having dinner upstairs, so I asked Edward to join us.”
Craig picked up the bal
l. “Sorry to disturb all of you, but I believe this is extremely important.”
“You have our attention,” Treadwell said.
Craig described everything that had happened beginning with Orlov’s call to Elizabeth changing the meeting to Europe. He left out the threats he made to Hennessey. At the end, he said, “I want you to arrest William March, charge him with treason, and put him in solitary confinement. No phone calls permitted so he can’t tip off President Zhou.”
“That bastard, March,” Treadwell said.
Wilson, heavy-set, jowly and ruddy-faced, looked as if he’d had several drinks at dinner. And why not, Craig thought. He hadn’t expected to be called to the White House this evening.
“You won’t like to hear this,” the AG said to Craig. “But the evidence you presented to arrest March, much less subject him to the drastic treatment you want, is simply insufficient.” The AG held out his hands, palms up, as if he were making an argument to a jury. “What do you have? A dinner discussion and a call and trip to Beijing, where we have no idea whom he met. Talk about circumstantial evidence.”
Craig felt as if the air was sputtering out of his balloon.
The AG continued. “I sense that you have a history with March that I’m not aware of, but that won’t fill the gap.”
The AG looked at the president. “You understand what I’m saying?”
Treadwell replied, “I do. However, the history here is quite relevant. This all happened under your predecessor, Attorney General Wes Simmons, when Brewster was president. Craig had built an ironclad case of treason against March. Simmons studied the evidence and concluded it was sufficient. But he persuaded Brewster that a public trial would have a devastating effect on our relations with China. So Brewster let March walk. It was all kept secret. I was then Chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee. Brewster briefed me. I disagreed with his decision and tried to convince him to prosecute, but he wouldn’t budge.”
The AG perked up. “What kind of case was it? Give me the short version.”
Craig responded, “March aided Chinese General Zhou, now their president, in a plot with Iran to cut off the flow of imported oil to the U.S., wrecking the American economy, and leapfrogging China over the United States in world domination.”
“When was this?”
“About a year and a half ago.”
The AG replied, “So the statute of limitations hasn’t run.”
Bryce interjected, “You could arrest March now and charge him with both that prior situation and this one. All of which would justify the solitary confinement Craig wants.”
Treadwell was nodding. “I’m on board.”
“Where’s March live?” the AG asked.
Craig gave him the Park Avenue address he’d gotten from Hennessey. The AG said, “I’ll go outside and call the head of the New York FBI office. Have them arrest March immediately. I’ll let you know when that happens.”
Craig glanced at Elizabeth who was smiling. He mouthed the word, “Yes.” She rolled her hand into a fist.
After the AG left, Treadwell said to Craig and Elizabeth, “Now tell me the status of your operation in connection with PGS. Let’s decide where we go from here after the leak.”
Craig replied, “Since we’re now finished with legal issues, I don’t know if Mister Bryce…”
Treadwell cut him off. “I fully trust Edward with our most confidential information.”
Craig didn’t like airing this information with a non-governmental employee who might not have security clearance, but that wasn’t something he could tell the President of the United States. So he swallowed hard and said, “First, I’d like Elizabeth to show you a video.”
She handed Treadwell her phone. As Treadwell watched General Zhou kill Androshka, his face registered shocked disbelief.
“We have to get him out of power,” Craig said.
“But how can we do that?” Treadwell asked.
“The Spanish government has an outstanding charge of murder against Zhou in connection with the battle for southern Spain last March.”
“Zhou won’t just walk into a Spanish courtroom.”
“I have a plan for getting him there.”
“Before you tell me about that, Craig, how do we know that
whoever succeeds Zhou in Beijing will be any better?”
Elizabeth explained about Mei Ling. “She’s waiting in the wings. So to speak. In Paris. If we get rid of Zhou, she could fly home and take over the presidency.”
“And she’d be better for us?”
“Both for the United States and China.”
Craig said, “I believe Russia is involved in this as well as Zhou. But I won’t be able to do anything about Kuznov.”
The president replied, “I can live with Kuznov. The Russians don’t pose a threat to us now. China is a much different matter. Okay, Craig, now tell me about your endgame.”
Before Craig had a chance to respond, the AG stuck his head in the door. “March is in custody. Being taken to a federal prison in Lewisburg where he’ll be held in solitary. He’s protesting furiously all the way.”
“That’s too damn bad,” Treadwell said. “Good work. You can go home now. What I’m discussing with Craig and Elizabeth doesn’t raise legal issues.”
The AG withdrew and closed the door. Treadwell was looking at Craig, “What’s your next move?”
“Elizabeth wants to fly to Prague to meet Orlov. At least, that’s what she told me a few hours ago.”
She was nodding.
Treadwell looked at her. “You don’t have to go.”
“I know that, Mr. President, but safeguarding PGS is critical for this country. Making Zhou pay for what he’s done is also important. I’ll do what I can to accomplish both of those.”
“You’re a brave young woman,” the president said with admiration.
“Not so young after spending the last year and a half running around with Craig.”
They all laughed nervously.
The president added, “I know Craig will do everything he can to protect you.”
“And then some,” Craig added.
“Now tell me your endgame,” Treadwell said.
Craig began speaking.
Prague
On Tuesday, Orlov checked into the luxurious Intercontinental Hotel in Prague, along the river. With the money he had received from Zhou, he could live well without spending his own money.
Then he made two calls. The first was to Kuznov, asking the Russian president to arrange to have Vladimir Drozny fly to Prague tomorrow and check into the Intercontinental.
“But you are Vladimir Drozny,” Kuznov said.
“No. No. The real Vladimir Drozny.”
“You want to tell me what you’re planning to do?”
“Not over the phone. And I don’t have time to fly to Moscow.”
“Okay, I’ll do it, but this better not come back to bite me in
the ass.”
Orlov powered off the phone before saying, “Let’s hope not.”
Orlov’s second call was to Franz Beran, a former Major in the Czech military intelligence when Russia ruled the country. Franz and Orlov had collaborated on a project to gather information and crush dissidents. After the Russians pulled out, Orlov made a trip to Prague to see what it was like. He and Franz had gotten plastered on Slivovitz in the old town. As they staggered out of the tavern, fireworks were exploding over the river. Franz said to Orlov, “If you ever need anything in this country, call me first.”
Orlov was now ready to take Franz up on his offer. They agreed to meet in the same tavern at nine that evening.
On the way to his meeting with Franz, walking along the
cobblestone streets in the old town, crowded with tourists speaking a multitude of languages, Orlov thought about how precarious his situation had gotten since Zhou had told him the FBI had surveillance on the members of the Epsilon Unit including Jill. They might have focused on her bank account. He pro
bably screwed up there. He should have opened a new account for her in Switzerland instead of transferring to her Washington account the million, then the two million.
That was a mistake. Perhaps the FBI didn’t move that fast. He was hopeful given the lack of speed with which they moved up on Angie in Los Angeles. Another red flag might be raised by Jill making this trip to Prague after she had been to Monte Carlo.
Orlov brushed aside these concerns. If all went with Franz as Orlov hoped, it wouldn’t matter if the Americans sent CIA agents or anyone else to follow Jill to Prague. All Orlov had to do was get Jill to the Czech Republic. Orlov would not only have the home field advantage, he’d control the entire field. Those CIA agents, or whoever the Americans sent, would be at Orlov’s mercy.
Orlov arrived at the tavern first, sat down in a dark corner and ordered a Slivovitz. Waiting for Franz, he went over the operation in his mind one more time.
Originally, Orlov had thought of meeting Jill at the airport, taking her to his hotel, and making the exchange there. But now that he anticipated American CIA agents, Orlov decided to change the plans. He had to separate Jill from those agents before making the exchange.
Orlov had a good plan for doing that, but he needed Franz to supply the remote location and a group of former army officers who, like Franz, preferred the old days and would be thrilled to see action one more time. Orlov was confident that after an evening with Franz and plenty of Slivovitz to lubricate the brain, and to pump up the testosterone, he’d have a willing ally. Success would be assured.
Wednesday, Craig arrived in Prague and checked into the Four Seasons hotel. Giuseppe was waiting for him.
They sat down to lunch in an isolated corner of the hotel’s dining room overlooking the river. How are you enjoying the job,” Craig asked.
“Ever day’s a challenge, but you left me a good organization.”
After they ordered lunch, Craig said, “Elizabeth arrives Friday at noon at Prague airport on AF 964 from Paris. That gives us two days to get ready.”
“What’s your likely scenario?”
“Orlov said he’d meet her at the airport. My guess is he’ll take her somewhere outside of the city to make the exchange.”