Jake Maroc - Shan Part 57

Simbal was very still. He could hear the rasping breath of the old man as he sank further and further away from them. "Which is what? The old ways are the best ways?"

"Not precisely," Jake said. "I recall that one of the old man's watchwords was: change. Beridien felt that flexibility in a network such as the Quarry was essential. He was convinced that the KGB's major defect was that it never changed. Invalid thinking, he called it." Jake p.r.o.nounced it with the emphasis on the first syllable.

"It's more Donovan's att.i.tude that I don't like. The old man thought about his people. He could be ruthless and, I suppose, at times even cruel. But through it all his heart beat for his field executives. He was once with Wild Bill Donovan. He knew what it was like. Rodger Donovan hasn't a clue what it's like out here."

"But he's smart," Simbal said.

"Smarter than any of us thought."

"That could be true," Simbal admitted. Coming to a decision, he pulled out a sheaf of papers. "Take a look at these."

Jake riffled through the flimsies that Max Threnody had given Simbal. "What are they?" Bliss wanted to know.

"Evidence," Jake said. "Proof that someone has been systematically blowing Quarry networks to the KGB."

"Then Apollo's for real," Bliss said.

Jake looked up. "It would appear so."

"Apollo?" Simbal said.

"Henry Wunderman's legacy," Jake told him, "A deep a.s.set inside the Kremlin. My a.s.set now."

Simbal produced a photo. "This was with the evidence." He handed it over.

"It's a surveillance shot of Daniella Vorkuta," Jake said.

"Right." Simbal sighed. "When we were younger Rodger was hung up on a girl in college. Leslie. She and Daniella Vorkuta could easily be sisters."

"That's how Donovan was recruited? Through Daniella Vorkuta?"

"Her and a Seurat in Paris," Simbal said. "It seems so, yes." He gave Jake an odd look. "It occurs to me now that if Apollo really was Wunderman's a.s.set, he'd've known that Wunderman could not have been Chimera."

Jake nodded. "That's true enough."

"Then this evidence can be corroborated by another source."

"It already has," Jake confirmed.

Then Max wasn't lying, Simbal thought. And then, Can I trust this man? He's ex-Quarry. Does he still hold a grudge for his abrupt dismissal? Threnody had called Simbal a paladin, and now he recognized in this man standing before him a kind of kindred spirit.

"But Donovan can't be why you're here now," Jake said.

"No," Simbal admitted. It was easier this way. He was not yet certain what he would do when he met up with Rodger Donovan. "I'm after the end product of two voodoo spooks: Peter Curran and Edward Martin Bennett. They've sold out, joined the diqui. Now they're set to meet the Naga."

"We're here to find the Naga," Jake said. "He's set out to destroy me, my work and everything my father built."

Bliss was by his side, staring into his face. "Chen Ju" "Who's Chen Ju?" Simbal interrupted. "The Naga."

"The head of the diqui?" He was incredulous. "You know who he is?"

"Yes." Jake's voice was hoa.r.s.e, as if he had been screaming for hours. "My father, my family knows him." He wiped at his face. "It all boils down to Kam Sang. My father's secret. You see, Kam Sang is a nuclear project in Guangdong province. Ostensibly, work is being done there on a radical way to desalinize water in a cost-effective way for Hong Kong. But there is another, far more secret side to Kam Sang. It is a discovery that my father told me had already changed the world. Until this moment, I did not truly understand how irrevocably it had been changed."

In the ringing silence, the noise of the rain reverberated eerily through the smoke-filled house, repository for dreams of faith and, now, abruptly, of fear.

Daniella Vorkuta hugged the honey-colored rabbit to her breast. Its shining brown eyes stared up at her with an inherently adoring expression.

"He's perfect," Mikhail Carelin said. He was obviously anxious to leave.

Daniella's lips pressed inward in a pout. "How do you know it's a he. I think it's a she."

"Fine," he said. "She's perfect Buy her."

"I don't know. Martina's particular about her animals."

"Your Uncle Vadim's grandchild is going to be seven, isn't that what you told me? How particular could she be?"

Daniella put the rabbit back among her sisters and they moved on. It was not so easy. They were in Detsky Mir, Children's World, what was renowned throughout the Soviet Union as the largest children's department store in the world. It seemed more crowded than Lenin's Tomb, unarguably the most popular tourist attraction the entire country had to offer.

"It's d.a.m.ned hot in here, Da.n.u.shka," Carelin said. "I hope we're not going to spend all morning looking." He had more time to spend with her now that his wife had gone to visit her mother in Leningrad.

"When I find Martina's gift, I'll know it immediately," she said.

"Personally, I liked the rabbit."

"Because it was the easy thing," she said lightly, taking his arm.

"No, I quite fancied her face. I could see her whiskers twitch."

She laughed, her eyes scanning the counters on either side of theaisles. "You know," she said, sometime later, after running the daunting gantlet of the store's stock, "you were right." And led him back to the counter full of honey-colored rabbits. She picked up the stuffed creature.

"How do you know your cousin will like it?" Carelin asked.

Daniella stared into the rabbit's face. She could not tell him that this rabbit was for her unborn baby, that she had wanted him here with her this one last time so that, together, they would choose a creature that eventually the baby would come to love, and by which Daniella could someday recall this moment encysted within time, free of anger, rancor or regret.

"Take her," he said. "She's perfect."

Daniella produced her Party card and received immediate service. While the rabbit was being gift wrapped, she opened her purse and took out a square manila envelope. She handed it wordlessly to Carelin.

He glanced at her, then opened it cautiously. "Good G.o.d," he said softly. He flipped through the photos, feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was disorienting, seeing himself and Daniella in intimate embrace. He, too, was drawn to the facial expressions; his embarra.s.sment was acute.

When he came to the last one, he said, "Where are the negatives?"

"I burned them," Daniella said, paying for the rabbit.

"How did you manage that?"

"Don't ask."

"Da.n.u.shka, I want to know."

Now he sounded like Maluta. "Trust me. You don't."

"How did you get these? Steal them?"

"Hardly," she said, taking possession of the bulky, beribboned box. "He gave them to me."

"Something serious had to have happened for Maluta to just hand them over to you."

"He thinks I'm cute."

"Daniella!" He went after her as she began to walk away. "He hates your guts."

She said nothing.

He took her elbow, turned her to face him. The crush of shoppers pushed them quite close and Daniella was obliged to switch the package from one arm to another. "I want to know."

"Why?" Abruptly she felt put upon. "Why must you know everything? Do you tell me everything?"

"Yes. Of course."

"You're a liar," she said hotly. "How do you expect me to put my trust in a liar."

"I don't understand."

She put her head closer to his. "I know, Mikhail. Do you understand? I know who you are,"

"What are you talking about?"

"Stop it," she snapped. "Let's get out of here." Abruptly, the huge store with its surging crowds was making her feel claustrophobic.

She took him to the Hermitage Garden along Karetny Ryad because it was less crowded than Gorky Park at this time of the year. She had had enough of crowds.

They sat on a wood-and-ironwork bench near the open-air puppet theater. It was near dinnertime. Gray squirrels scampered down the boles of oak and beech trees to sit near them, hoping for sc.r.a.ps. Nearby, pigeons waddled, pecking now and again at nothing at all.

The sound of children's laughter was strong on the air and, unconsciously, Daniella touched the firm roundness of her lower belly, imagining the little life growing there. She had almost broken down and cried at Children's World. All the toys, all the children running, pointing, laughing, wanting. She felt a longing deep inside her.

Large, fleecy clouds drifted above their heads and there was only the occasional rumble of the large diesel trucks. "What will you do now that you know?" He did not look at her.

"I want you to understand something, Mikhail," she said deliberately. "Maluta is no longer a factor in anything I do or say."

He looked at her. "Do I have to guess at what that means?"

"I think you already know," she said simply.

"How did you find out about me?"

"Mitre signaled me." He knew that Mitre was her code name for Sir John Bluestone. There was no reason not to tell him now. "You were blown somewhere in Hong Kong."

A little girl came racing by, her arms stretched out to grab the tail of the dog that raced, barking happily, just in front of her. Her cheeks were red, her eyes wide with delight.

"Tell me," Carelin said, envying the girl's innocence. "Do you love me?" His back was ramrod straight. He knew that it would be many years before that girl would have to ask such a question. "Have you ever loved me?"

"I think," she said, "that is a question that we are better off not asking one another."

"Daniella," he said seriously, "I don't believe that I have sinned. It is importantessential, eventhat you understand that."

"Do you hate Russia so?"

"I hate what Russia does to its people. To all people it comes in contact with. And Russia is what Russia does. We have not come so far from Stalin as we would like to believe. We Russians are very adept at self-deception,"

"No more than any other people, Mikhail."

"In that, I think you are quite wrong. Our capacity for"

"I will notwill notdebate the morality of this with you," she said sharply.

"It was my choice, my decision only, and I do not regret it." He looked away for a moment. "At least, very little of it."

"To answer your question, whatever you are has nothing to do with what I feel inside."

He looked down to see the small-caliber pistol with its silencer pressed against his coat. It was between them. No one could see it but them.

Daniella saw that his expression had grown sad. "Is this how you disposed of Comrade Maluta?"

"This is the answer, Mikhail," Daniella said. "The only answer." In the corners of her eyes, liquid diamonds danced. "There are only lies between us. And that's all there ever could have been. Lies are all that are allowed us in our profession. We knew that when we chose to be who we are. Nothing can change that."

"Are you so certain?" he said.

"I have the power now, Mikhail. What deadly secrets Maluta once possessedwhat made him rich, what made him strongare mine."

"So that's it," he said softly. "You got more than the photos. In the end you got everything." He watched her eyes for signs of life. And when he was certain that she would give him nothing, he offered her all he had left. "You may know who I am," he said, "but you know nothing of my final directive." He looked from the pistol she held at his side to her face. It was such a strong face, he thought. And thought again of Circe, the ancient sorceress out of Greek mythology in whose image he felt she had been molded. How well she had manipulated everything and everyone around her, he marveled. "It was to terminate you, Da.n.u.shka." He saw the shock forming in her features and pressed home whatever advantage it might have given him. "What else would Jake Maroc want of me?"

In a moment, he rose. "Goodbye, Koshka."

Daniella watched him walk away, wending his way past the running groups of whooping children whose nannies were vainly attempting to gather them up. It was time to go home.

Hours later, she found herself in her office without having any idea of how she had gotten there. She remembered her mother in just such a dazed state after she had been in an auto accident. For a moment Daniella wondered why she had come here instead of to her apartment. Then, as if a veil had lifted from her consciousness, she remembered.

She went to the window and looked out at the night. Stars spangled the heavens. She felt somehow grateful that she was far enough from the center of the city to see those of first magnitude. Below them, the dark ma.s.s of the forest, blacker even than the night sky. Part of her wished that she could lose herself in that stygian maze.

She thought of the onion domes gleaming in the spotlights, the crenellated walls within which crouched, like a savage beast, the power to change the world. Now she had within her grasp the means to tame that beast.

She turned and picked up the phone, spoke into it for some time. She thought she knew in which direction Carelin would choose to flee. He was heading for Hong Kong, after all. That much was obvious. But even if he chose another route, her people would intercept him. She had faith in them.

"One more thing, Lieutenant," she said into the phone. "I want the traitor shot on sight. Terminated, do you understand? Terminated."

At that moment, she felt something that she could not possibly feel: a stirring in her belly. She gave a strangled little cry and put down the phone, feeling as if she had come to the very edge of the world.