A waiter appeared with a silver coffee service on a tray and poured a cup for Murov.

"Lovely place, the Lobby Bar, isn't it, Sergei?" Lammelle asked.

"I come here often," Murov said.

"So I expect you'll miss it?"

"Excuse me?"

"As soon as he gets to his office, your amba.s.sador will be getting a call from Secretary of State Cohen. She will suggest to him that it would be best if you voluntarily gave up your post here and returned to Moscow. Today. If that is not acceptable, you will be declared persona non grata. persona non grata. In that case, you would have seventy-two hours to leave the country, but you will be leaving, Sergei." In that case, you would have seventy-two hours to leave the country, but you will be leaving, Sergei."

"Is that why you asked me to come here, Frank, to tell me that?"

"No. Actually, it was to ask a favor of you. I want you to take something to Moscow for me when you go, and see, personally, that it gets into the hands of Mr. Putin."

"What would that be?"

"It looks like a blue rubber beer keg," Castillo said. "I happened to come across it on a little island off the coast of Venezuela."

"Not to worry, Sergei," Sweaty said. "It's quite dead. It would be nice if you dropped it on Yakov Vladimirovich's foot, but I don't want to kill you or him. Or anyone else that way."

Murov lost his diplomatic composure.

"It's dead?"

"As a doornail," Castillo said.

"And that's why I'd like you to take it to Mr. Putin, so he can see that for himself. And the sooner the better, of course," Lammelle said. "Today. Rather than insisting on the seventy-two hours to which you are ent.i.tled before being expelled."

"If you look out the window, Sergei, you will see that the beer barrel is being loaded into your Mercedes SUV right now," Castillo said.

Murov looked.

"There's just a little more, Sergei. I'm sure you have by now seen the Wolf News report . . ."

"You can't miss it. It's been on since last night."

"Then you probably noticed that nothing was said about Congo-X."

Murov nodded.

"Not a word about General Sirinov jumping Spetsnaz into the Congo, to see if we'd missed any Congo-X when we took out the Fish Farm," Lammelle said. "Not a word about him personally flying into El Obeid Airport in North Kurdufan, Sudan, on a Tu-934A when they did find some that we missed. Not a word about the seventeen bodies he left at the airfield when he took off for what we now call 'Drug Cartel International Airport' in Mexico. Not a word about him watching as Pavel Koslov, the Mexico City rezident rezident, loaded the two beer kegs you sent to Fort Detrick into a Mexican emba.s.sy Suburban for later movement across the border. Not a word about his then flying to La Orchila Island in Venezuela with what was left of the Congo-X."

"We have movies of most of this, Sergei," Castillo said.

"And General Sirinov has decided it's safer for him to be here, talking to Frank, than it would be for him in Moscow, trying to explain his failure to Vladimir Vladimirovich," Berezovsky said.

"And are you also talking to Frank, Dmitri?" Murov asked.

"I could tell you no, but you wouldn't believe me."

"We can keep it that way, Sergei," Lammelle said. "If Vladimir Vladimirovich agrees that getting into the question of Congo-X would not be good for either Russia or the United States."

"'Keep it that way'?"

"Well, your Ministry of Information could deny the whole thing. They could say it wasn't a brilliant intelligence operation, that they had sold the Tu-934A to . . . what's the name of that corporation, Charley?"

"LCBF. The LCBF Corporation," Castillo furnished.

"Who then turned a quick profit by selling it to the CIA."

"No one would believe that," Murov said.

"There are always some people who will believe anything," Sweaty said. "Including that Vladimir Vladimirovich is a fool."

"I don't quite understand, my dear Svetlana."

"Sorry, Frank," Svetlana said. "I know how much you and Sergei love to show each other how brilliant and civilized you are, but I've had enough of it."

"Which means?" Murov asked.

"You tell Vladimir Vladimirovich that I said that if so much as a thimbleful of Congo-X turns up anywhere, or if I even suspect he's trying to hurt any member of my family-and that includes my Carlitos, of course-I will make sure that every member of the SVR learns in detail how reckless and incompetent he is.

"And if he thinks this is an idle bluff, tell him to watch what happens if Koussevitzky's wife Olga-he's a Spetsnaz major; I shot him in the leg and left him on that island-and the entire Koussevitzky family are not in Budapest within seventy-two hours of your arrival in Moscow. I'll have two out of three SVR officers giggling behind Vladimir Vladimirovich's back, whispering that what he did when he was head of the KGB in Saint Petersburg was close his door and write poetry."

She wet her index finger with her tongue and ran it over her eyebrow.

"Dmitri," Lammelle said. "You're right. Her bite is worse than her bark."

"In other words, what you're proposing is an armistice," Murov said.

"On one hand," Castillo said, "I don't believe in the tooth fairy. Putin's going to have a hard time swallowing what we've done to him. He may not be able to. On the other hand, there's been an armistice in Korea for fifty years, during which fewer people on both sides have been killed than would have died if the war was still on. I'll take my chances with that. You tell Putin what Svetlana said."

Murov looked at Castillo and then at Svetlana. He stood.

"It's been very interesting seeing you again," he said. He offered his hand to Lammelle and Berezovsky. "And to meet you, Colonel," he said, offering his hand to Castillo. He then waited for Svetlana to put out her hand, which took a good fifteen seconds. He bowed and kissed it. "And it has been a joy to spend a few minutes-however stressful-in the company of the most beautiful daughter of the Motherland I have ever known. But now I must leave. I have a plane to catch."

He walked out of the Lobby Bar. Castillo, Lammelle, Berezovsky, and Svetlana looked out the window, and in a moment Murov appeared. He walked to the Mercedes SUV-the driver of which had taken advantage of the diplomatic privilege of parking wherever the h.e.l.l the impulse strikes, and it was now blocking the curbside lane of Desales Street-jerked open the rear window to the cargo area, looked inside, and then slammed the window closed. He got in the pa.s.senger seat, slammed the door, and then the Mercedes drove off.

Castillo looked at Svetlana.

She said, "You heard what he said about the 'most beautiful daughter of the Motherland'?"

"What I want to know is what all you Russians have against Saint Petersburg poets."

Lammelle stood, and said, "And now you'll have to excuse me, I have an appointment at the White House."

[TWELVE].

The Situation Room The White House 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W.

Washington, D.C.

1005 14 February 2007

"I'm so glad you could join us, Mr. Lammelle," the President said sarcastically.

"Sir, it's a longer walk here from the Monica Lewinsky Motel than I remembered. My apologies for being late."

"No problem, if you remembered to bring your resignation with you."

"I'll give it verbally and leave right now, if that is your desire, Mr. President."

Lammelle looked around the room. It was nowhere near close to capacity. The secretaries of State and Defense were seated at the large table, as were the director of Central Intelligence, the attorney general, the director of the FBI, the director of National Intelligence and his executive a.s.sistant, and Generals Naylor and McNab. Plus, of course, the presidential spokesman, Mr. Jack Parker.

"You'll leave when I tell you that you can. Take a seat, Lammelle."

Lammelle sat down. Secretary of State Natalie Cohen stood up, leaned across the desk, and laid an envelope before him.

"What's this?" the President demanded.

"My resignation, Mr. President," she said.

"I haven't asked for it."

"Yes, I know," she said, and sat down.

General Naylor stood up, leaned across the table, and laid an envelope on the table.

"That's my resignation, sir," he said.

The President looked at General McNab.

"Well?"

"Well, what, Mr. President?"

"Aren't you going to offer your resignation?"

"No, sir."

"You didn't think I was going to let you get away with what you did, did you?"

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. President."

"You know G.o.dd.a.m.n well what I mean!" Clendennen flared. "You've been in this up to that G.o.dd.a.m.ned mustache of yours! Placing the entire country in danger!"

"Sir, I don't understand."

"Maybe after the G.o.dd.a.m.n Russians open barrels of Congo-X all over the country, you will."

"Sir, that's just not going to happen. The Russians don't have barrels of Congo-X."

"Excuse me, General," Frank Lammelle said. "The Russians do have one barrel of Congo-X. It's dead, but I suppose you could still call it Congo-X. Or maybe I should have said, the Russians have one barrel of Dead Congo-X. I gave it to Mr. Murov, who is going to take it to Moscow later today to show it to Mr. Putin."

"You're telling me there is no longer a Congo-X threat?" Clendennen asked, incredulous.

"With the exception of a couple of quarts of live Congo-X in Colonel Hamilton's laboratory at Fort Detrick," General Naylor said, "there is no Congo-X anywhere in the world. Colonel Castillo seized all that the Russians had when he staged the raid on La Orchila Island in Venezuela. Colonel Hamilton will continue to experiment with it to see if he can find a better way to kill it."

"Why wasn't I told of this?" Clendennen demanded angrily.

"Because no one who knew you trusted you, Mr. President. You had proven you were susceptible to Russian blackmail," Natalie Cohen said. "I saw it as my sworn duty under the Const.i.tution to thwart your announced intentions and did so."

"And now, Madam Secretary, you have resigned," the President said. "What are your intentions now? Are you going to write a book? Go on Wolf News?"

"Frankly, sir, I haven't made up my mind. But I must tell you, sir, that I do not share Amba.s.sador Montvale's qualms about embarra.s.sing you personally, or the Office of the President."

"Madam Secretary," presidential spokesman Jack Parker said. "Have you-"

"b.u.t.t out, Porky," the President snapped. "You're supposed to be a G.o.dd.a.m.ned fly on the wall, and that's all."

"No, sir. That's not true. I took the same oath Secretary Cohen did. May I continue, sir? Or would you like my resignation right now?"

After a moment, the President said, "Go on, G.o.dd.a.m.n it."

"Madam Secretary, have you considered the public relations aspects of what will happen when word gets out that you have resigned, that General Naylor has resigned, and as I strongly suspect he will, Amba.s.sador Montvale has also resigned?"

"Yes, I have," she said. "What are you suggesting, that I not resign? Sorry, Jack, I just don't have the desire to deal anymore with the President."

"Amba.s.sador Montvale, are you going to resign?" Parker asked.

"Yes. And I'm aware of the collateral damage all of this might cause the country. But I can no longer in good faith serve a man who tried to do what the President would have done had not Colonel Castillo-and others-stood up to him."

"I'm going to put my two cents in here," the attorney general said. "I'm a lawyer. We're trained to compromise. You want it all at once, or in pieces?"

"Go slowly, please," Montvale said dryly. "I'm known as Amba.s.sador Stupid, you know."

"My take on this whole thing is that it's an intelligence failure, Mr. Amba.s.sador," the attorney general said. "I think that Jack Powell-the CIA-never really met its responsibilities. If they hadn't insisted that laboratory in the Congo was a fish farm, and if that woman-the Vienna station chief-hadn't scared those two Russians off with her incompetence, we would have learned about it from them. Instead, we had this Keystone Kop business-and it would be funny, if the circ.u.mstances were not so terrifying-of everybody chasing Colonel Castillo-unsuccessfully chasing him-all over the world while he did the Venezuelan operation-in essence the CIA's work-for them-"

He stopped in midsentence and caught his breath.

"And since I know you well enough, Mr. Amba.s.sador, to refuse to believe that had you known about this-had Jack Powell promptly told you what you were ent.i.tled to know-you would have taken the appropriate action, and none of us would be sitting at this table this morning."