Moscow

“He asked you to do what?” Kuznov said with incredulity to Orlov. They were alone in Kuznov’s office.

“Assassinate President Dalton.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

“I told him I’d have to talk to you about it.”

“And you want to do this?”

“Yes, because it will lead to an alliance between you and Zhou. Besides, Dalton hasn’t exactly been a friend of Russia. You made two attempts at joint ventures and he rebuffed you both times. Even publicly.”

Kuznov walked over to the sideboard and poured a generous portion of vodka into a glass. Orlov followed his example.

“It’s only eleven in the morning,” Kuznov said. “I can see how Yeltsin became an alcoholic. The pressure of the office.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve added to those pressures. But an alliance with China could be the basis for a Russian resurgence. And it was clear to me that Zhou hates Dalton and believes he might do serious damage to the Chinese economy. If we can pull this off, Zhou will be in
our debt.”

“What do you mean, we? You should have said that if you pull this off. I won’t be involved in any way. You better understand that.”

“I do. Then you approve?”

Orlov was anxious to obtain Kuznov’s blessing and to get on
with it.

“I don’t know.”

“Can I ask what’s worrying you?” Orlov sounded deferential. He and Kuznov weren’t equals.

“Does Zhou really want an alliance with Russia, or does he just want you to do his dirty work? You were with him. You heard him. What do you think?”

Kuznov was asking a good question. Orlov had been worried about the same issue. Yet, he had brushed that concern aside, wanting to believe Zhou was sincere.

“I honestly don’t know,” Orlov said.

“Good. I’m glad to hear you’re not taken in by your sister’s lover.”

“Not at all.”

“Getting rid of Dalton would be a plus for Russia. How do you intend to kill him?”

Orlov hesitated, then said, “I’m still thinking about it. I don’t have a plan finalized yet, but I will.”

“Meaning you don’t have the faintest idea. Right?”

Orlov couldn’t lie to Kuznov. “That’s right. But in my KGB days, ‘Yes I can’ was my creed. I’m confident that I’ll find a way.”

“I’ll give you a suggestion.”

Orlov was ecstatic. He needed help desperately. “Sure.”

“President Dalton likes to go to Camp David, the presidential retreat, most weekends. When I visited Washington last year, we had a Friday morning meeting at the White House. Then in the afternoon, we took the helicopter to Camp David.”

Kuznov paused to sip his drink.

“And?” Orlov asked anxiously.

“In that chopper, I felt incredibly vulnerable. We were flying over woods and sparsely populated areas. Someone with a rocket on the ground could have easily hit us. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Absolutely, President Kuznov.”

“But you can’t be on the ground firing the rocket. And it can’t be anyone else who’s a Russian.”

“That’s not a problem,” Orlov said, now sounding excited. “I have intelligence contacts around the world. So many people hate the United States. I’ll be able to find someone.”

“Good. I’ll put a plane and pilot at your disposal, but remember one thing,” Kuznov raised his hand and pointed a finger at Orlov. “Your shooter can’t survive the assassination. He has to die as well. Dead men don’t talk.”

“For sure. We have the perfect model. The assassination of President Kennedy.”

“Exactly. The precisely conceived operation. Even after fifty years, Americans can’t be sure who was responsible for the death of their
president. And one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Dalton’s assassination can’t be attributed to Russia.”

Orlov recalled Zhou telling him that the Chinese government couldn’t be involved in any way. Both Zhou and Kuznov were setting him up. And if the mission went to hell, they’d want him to swing alone. But he wouldn’t let that happen.