Prague and Czech Republic

At ten minutes to noon, Elizabeth bounded off the plane in Prague, full of adrenalin and not exhausted because she’d forced herself to sleep in a comfortable first class seat on the two flights. Somewhere over the Atlantic, she managed to brush aside her anxiety and stop thinking about the tremendous risk she was facing. She had learned from Craig to compartmentalize: focus only on completing the job.

In the terminal, she headed toward passport control, clutching a leather bag that held the CDs and wheeling her carry-on. As she cleared customs and entered the arrival hall, a distinguished looking gray haired man in a suit and tie approached her. He was in his sixties, she guessed.

“Come with me,” he said in English with a thick Czech accent.

“Who are you?” Elizabeth asked.

“Franz is my name. Vladimir sent me to meet you. I’ll help you with your bag.”

He took the wheelie suitcase from her hand.

Elizabeth didn’t resist. It contained clothes and cosmetics. She had no intention of parting with the leather bag containing the CDs.

Outside, the air was hot and humid with thick clouds in the sky. It felt as if a fierce rainstorm was approaching. In front of her, at a distance, were a range of high mountains, with patches of snow near the jagged peaks.

She followed Franz to a black Mercedes sedan in the parking lot. He popped the trunk and loaded her bag inside. As he did, she noticed two men, also in suits and ties, seated in front and no one in the back. Franz opened the back door and held it for her, motioning for her to get inside.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“We’re taking you to Vladimir. Isn’t that what you want? You agreed to meet him for your exchange.”

“Why don’t we go into the airport coffee shop and make our exchange there?”

Franz smiled faintly. “We’re just messengers. We can’t make any changes.”

That narrowed her choices. She could get into the car and hope Craig would follow her as he promised. Or she could cut and run, hoping that Franz and his two friends didn’t overpower her and force her into the car. Not much of a choice. She was determined to follow Craig’s plan so he could obtain the information they needed. She climbed into the back of the car. Franz went around and sat down beside her.

Once the door shut, the driver activated the rear door locks. No turning back now. The front passenger barked orders to the driver. They were moving toward the exit of the parking lot.

The driver of the Mercedes sped along the highway that snaked around Prague, cutting in and out of lanes. After twenty minutes, they were climbing into the mountains. The air conditioning was blasting. Elizabeth was shivering.

“Where are we going?” she asked Franz for the third time.

Her question was again met with stony silence. I just hope to hell Craig has been able to follow, Elizabeth thought.

She was afraid to look through the back window for fear of tipping them off.

An hour later, they were driving through a forest. Rugged oaks and silver beech lined the narrow road. Looking through the front windshield, she didn’t see any other cars.

Ahead was a narrow bridge over a deep gully. The Mercedes raced across. They were climbing higher.

Fear was beginning to grip her. You’re being foolish, she told herself. Craig won’t lose you. He won’t let anything happen to you.

Craig was in the front passenger seat of a gray BMW, the first of two cars following the black Mercedes. A Czech soldier was driving; another was in the back seat. Behind them, another gray BMW held two more Czech soldiers.

As they traveled outside of town, Craig worried. Where were they taking her? Had he underestimated Orlov?

Through binoculars, Craig watched the Mercedes speed across a narrow bridge over a deep gully. His car was about a hundred yards from the bridge when a large truck carrying hot asphalt moved off the apron and blocked the narrow road. A man climbed out of the truck and held up a stop sign. The driver of Craig’s car slammed on the brakes and pulled up next to the truck.

“Ask him what’s happening,” Craig said to the driver.

He got out, talked to the man with the stop sign, and returned to the BMW. “He said the bridge isn’t safe. They’re making repairs. I asked him to move over and let us cross before they make the repairs. He refused.”

“Go around him,” Craig said.

“I’m not sure I can. He hasn’t left us much room.”

“Try it anyhow.”

The driver shook his head in disbelief. “Okay, you’re the boss.
He threw the car in reverse to swing around the truck. Then to Craig’s horror, he heard a loud explosion and part of the bridge collapsed.

Craig knew exactly what had happened: Orlov had arranged to have the bridge blown to stop anyone from following. Helplessly, he stared at the deep gully in front of them, while metal and concrete fell through the air. No way they could drive down one side and up the other. He asked the driver if there was parallel road that they could circle back and take.

“You would be adding fifty kilometers,” the driver said. “We would never catch the Mercedes.”

Craig cursed under his breath, removed his cell phone and called Giuseppe to explain what happened.

“I’ll get in the Czech helicopter,” Giuseppe said. “Try to find the Mercedes and get a fix on their location. It’ll be tough in these clouds. I hope to hell the storm holds up. Meantime, you might as well come back to Prague.”

Feeling helpless, Craig followed Giuseppe’s instructions.

Elizabeth heard a loud explosion behind the Mercedes. She guessed that Orlov’s friends had blown the bridge to stop Craig from following. Suddenly, the Mercedes slowed and pulled off the road.

Franz said to Elizabeth, “Give me your tracking device.”

“I don’t have one.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I have a tracking device?”

“Get out of the car.”

She dutifully obeyed.

He removed a ten inch black instrument shaped like a cricket bat from his bag. She watched him open the trunk and run it over her suitcase. It never made a sound. Next over the leather bag she was clutching. Nothing. He passed it over her blouse rubbing against her breasts.

“Pick up your skirt,” he said.

“Go screw yourself.”

He snarled, then ran it over her skirt, front and back. The device was silent.

Franz took out his cell, made a call, and announced, “She’s clean.”

Elizabeth guessed Franz was calling Orlov.

How in the world would Craig find me?

Elizabeth tried to keep her increasing fear under control. Don’t panic. Craig will think of something.

Franz told her to get back into the car.

They were moving again.

After thirty minutes, looming ahead, she saw an old gray stone chateau with four turrets and two towers. Either it was from the Middle Ages or an incredible copy. She felt as if she were dreaming.

Before they reached the chateau, the skies cut loose with a torrential downpour. The Mercedes turned onto a dirt road, leading up to the castle. A tree branch was blocking the center of the road. The driver braked, causing the car to skid into a ditch along the side of the road. He tried a couple of times, unsuccessfully, to blast out, the tires spinning and squealing.

“Halt,” Franz said. “We’re close enough. “We’ll walk the rest of
the way.”

Dressed in brown pumps with a medium heel, Elizabeth wasn’t exactly ready to walk in the mud. But that was the least of her worries.

Franz pulled her by the arm along the muddy road. She was gripping her bag tightly. The two other men from the car had guns aimed at her, fearful that she might try and escape.

By the time she reached the entrance to the chateau, her hair was soaked and water was running into her eyes. All of her clothes were sopping wet. Half a dozen armed men, all elderly, dressed in Red Army uniforms, were standing outside the chateau, seemingly impervious to the rain.

Once she passed them, Franz led her inside, then up an old wooden staircase that creaked. A rat scurried out of their way.

At the top, they entered a large living room with a crackling fire. Armed soldiers in old Red Army uniforms stood guard in each of the four corners of the room.

She spotted Orlov across the room. He came forward to greet her. “Thank you for coming all this way to meet with me. Let’s make our exchange and Franz will take you back to Prague. You’ll have your twenty million dollars. Then you can go anywhere you want.”

Franz and the two who had been in the Mercedes remained in the living room.

Orlov held out his hand. “Give me the CDs.”

Reaching into her briefcase, she extracted two boxes of CDs and held them up. “I even made a duplicate.”

“PGS is on these?” Orlov asked.

She nodded.

“Give them to me.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What’s that?”

“My twenty million dollars.”

“First the CDs.”

“No! The money. I insist.”

Elizabeth knew she was playing a dangerous game. They could shoot her at any time and take the CDs, but she wanted to reinforce her credibility.

“Okay,” Orlov said. “We’ll do it your way, but if you’re trying to trick me, I’ll make certain you’ll never spend a cent of the money. And I’ll kill your daughter as well.”

He said it a cruel, sadistic voice.

She handed Orlov a piece of paper with a bank account in Brazil.

“That’s different than the account you gave me for the one million and the two million. That was in Maryland.”

“With the risks involved, I needed a place where I’m safe from United States extradition.”

Orlov nodded.

Once she confirmed the transfer to her account, she handed Orlov the CDs.

“Before I can let you leave,” he said. “I must have them examined for authenticity to make sure you’re giving me what I paid for.”

His words cut through Elizabeth like a knife.

“How do you intend to do that?” She was trying to keep her cool.

Orlov shouted, “Vladimir. Come in here.”

A man entered from one of the back rooms. He was about Orlov’s height, but twenty pounds heavier. As the man approached Orlov and Elizabeth, Orlov said, “Vladimir, I’m sure you’ve met Jill Morgan at one of your international conferences.”

Vladimir calmly replied, “Of course I’ve met Jill Morgan. But this woman isn’t Jill Morgan. I’ve been listening and watching from the other room. She looks a lot like Jill Morgan, but there are differences. And she doesn’t sound at all like Jill Morgan.”

Orlov’s head snapped back in surprise. “What the hell?” He looked stunned, his face white as a sheet. “Who are you?” he said to Elizabeth.

Midway back to Prague, Craig told the driver to pull over in a grassy area. The rain was coming down in sheets. The car behind pulled over as well.

Craig called Giuseppe. “Were you able to locate them?”

“I was getting ready to call you. We had to land the chopper because of the weather. But I managed to find out where they’ve taken Elizabeth. An old deserted chateau. I have precise coordinates.”

“Good. I’ll call for the Marine helicopter on standby at our German base. Have them pick me up here. Then we’re going in.”

“You have one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I called the Czech Defense Minister to get approval for your chopper in their airspace. He said positively not.”

“Fuck him. We’re doing it anyhow. What’ll he do. Shoot the chopper down?”

“That’s what he threatened. And I think he means it. You have only one way around it.”

“What’s that?”

“Have President Treadwell call the Czech president. The Defense Minister claims he’s acting on direct orders from the Czech president.”

“I don’t fucking believe it.”

Craig knew he had no choice. But time was precious. “I’ll get on it right away.”

As he dialed Washington, he realized minutes were ticking away and Elizabeth was in great danger. The only good news was that the rain appeared to be passing. At least the chopper would be able to fly…
if he managed to get approval.

All I can do now, Elizabeth thought, is stall for time hoping Craig would be able to get to her. So she said to Orlov, “I work with Jill at Rogers Laughton. She was afraid another trip to Europe might make people suspicious so she sent me. But none of that is important. You have the CDs. That’s all you care about. Let Vladimir check them. He’ll confirm that.”

“Okay. I’ll do that,” Orlov said. “But you better not be lying.”

Vladimir went into the other room, brought back his computer and inserted a CD.

Elizabeth sat down to watch him. If he asked her a technical question, she was dead.

He was working for about thirty minutes. Jill had done a good job preparing the phony CDs. Finally, he stood up from the computer and told Orlov, “They’re phonies. Carefully done, but all public information.”

Orlov raised his hand and slapped Elizabeth hard on the side of her face. “Lying bitch.”

Then he said, “I want you to get Jill Morgan on the phone and have her explain the differences between PGS and what’s on the CDs.”

“Jill may not be in the office. She may not have access to the
PGS CDs.”

Orlov was smiling sadistically. “So what? Jill has a photographic memory. She’ll be able to tell Vladimir from memory.”

“I won’t call her,” Elizabeth said.

Orlov walked over to the side of the room, picked up a metal case and opened it. What Elizabeth saw inside terrified her: electrodes for torture.

Orlov turned to one of the soldiers. “Tie her to the chair. We’ll test her threshold for pain.”

I’m being stupid, Elizabeth thought. If I call Jill, she’ll be smart enough to know what’s happening. She’ll never give Vladimir the true PGS, but I’ll buy more time for Craig to get here. Elizabeth took out her cell phone. “What if Jill won’t give me the information?”

“Tell her that I’m calling Russian friends of mine attached to the Embassy in Washington. They’ll go to Jill’s house, wait for her daughter to come home, and kill her.”

Orlov then removed his cellphone from his pocket. He made a call, speaking Russian, which Elizabeth didn’t understand. Except she heard in English, “Jill Morgan… Tracy Morgan… and Jill’s address in Gaithersburg.” If Orlov was bluffing about the threat to Jill’s daughter, he was doing a good job. Elizabeth remembered Craig had stationed two CIA agents in Jill’s house, but she didn’t know how many Russians would be coming. It could be a real bloodbath.

Orlov said to Elizabeth, “Stop stalling and make the call to Jill. Put it on speaker.”

Hurry, Craig! Hurry, Craig!

Elizabeth called Jill. In a shaky voice, she said, “They’ve discovered that the CDs are fakes. They’re threatening me and your daughter unless you explain over the phone to Vladimir Drozny, a Russian engineer, the differences between what’s on the discs you gave me and the true PGS. I have you on the speaker with Vladimir and some other people.”

For ten seconds, Jill didn’t respond. She must be trying to evaluate what I told her and how to answer, Elizabeth thought. God, I hope she knows how to play it.

Treadwell’s secretary told Craig, “Hold for just a minute. He’s in a meeting, but I was instructed to interrupt him if you called.”

While he waited, Craig looked through the car window. The rain had stopped. He got out of the car. Cell phone plastered to his ear, he anxiously kicked his foot on the muddy ground. Then he heard, “Yes, Craig,” in Treadwell’s tense voice.

Craig explained the situation to Treadwell. At the end Treadwell said, “That goddamn Jan. When he called to congratulate me on becoming president, he invited me to visit the Czech Republic and told me how anxious he was to strengthen relations with the United States. Now he pulls this shit. I’ll call Jan right now with you on the line in case he raises logistical issues.”

For a full two minutes, Craig didn’t hear a thing. He worried technology had failed him. That he has been disconnected. He considered hanging up and redialing the White House. He decided to wait another thirty seconds. All the while, he was kicking his foot on the ground, digging a hole deeper and deeper.

At last, he heard a voice in a Czech accent saying, “I have the Czech president.” Then, “This is Jan, President Treadwell. I understand we have a problem.”

Craig listened as Treadwell succinctly summarized the issue for Jan. Concluding, he said, “I can’t believe you would withhold approval for us to fly a single helicopter through your airspace. For us, this is a critical issue. And you told me that you wanted to improve relations.”

“I’m sorry. But before you called, I didn’t know anything about this matter. I had no idea.”

Craig wanted to scream: “Bullshit. Your Defense Minister told Giuseppe he was acting on your orders.” But Craig kept still.

Treadwell responded. “Well now that you know, can we proceed?”

“You realize, of course, that more than one helicopter flight is involved. There is likely to be a battle at the chateau.”

“Hopefully not.”

“It’s a question of our territorial integrity. We’re not a third world banana republic.”

“I understand that.”

“I’ll need time to think about it.”

Craig’s heart sank.

“We don’t have time,” Treadwell replied firmly. “Lives are at stake.”

There was a pause, then Treadwell added. “Okay, Jan. Tell me what you want in return.”

“A reduction in tariffs on Czech steel,” Treadwell said without hesitation.

“You’ll get it. I’ll cut them by fifty percent.”

“Permission is granted for your Marines.”

“Good. I’ll tell Craig Page to move now.”

Craig took that as his signal. He hung up the phone and called the Marine base in Germany.

Elizabeth was watching anxiously as Jill and Drozny were speaking on the phone while Drozny worked at his computer, making changes dictated by Jill to the CDs. The discussion was highly technical; and Elizabeth had no idea what Jill was telling Drozny. She just hoped Jill wasn’t disclosing the true PGS.

Craig was en route to the chateau in a Blackhawk helicopter with a pilot, Marine Captain Curtis, and the five armed members of his unit.

“ETA, six minutes,” the pilot said.

Craig told the Marines, “Remember, I need Orlov and Elizabeth alive.”

He had distributed pictures of both of them. “You can kill everybody else.”

Through binoculars, Craig surveyed the grounds around the chateau. What he saw amazed him: six elderly soldiers, dressed in Red Army uniforms, were gripping automatic weapons. Orlov must have gathered up some of his buddies from the Soviet era. He couldn’t underestimate them. He passed the word to the Marines.

The chopper landed in a clearing about fifty yards from the chateau.

Craig was the first one out. The Czech soldiers were running toward the helicopter. Craig aimed at the one in front. His shot hit the man in the chest. He was down. The others didn’t retreat. Instead, they scattered into the trees, firing as they ran at the Marines, who were now on the ground. Captain Curtis and the Marines gave chase while Craig ran up to the entrance to the chateau, prepared to fire if Czech reinforcements came out of the building. None did. He held his position, waiting for the Marines before he entered.

Meantime, Craig heard a constant firing of guns as the firefight raged in the forest. Five minutes later, Captain Curtis came racing up to Craig with his five Marines intact. “All enemy combatants are dead,” the Captain told Craig. “We’re ready to go in.”

Craig raised his gun, preparing to blast off the front door lock. Before doing that, he smashed his foot against the door. It gave way.

Inside, he saw a wooden staircase. He pointed up to Captain Curtis and they were ready to move. Craig and the Marines put on their gas masks.

Inside the living room, Elizabeth stood next to Orlov and close
to Drozny, seated at a table, still engaged in his technical discussion with Jill.

Suddenly, Jill heard the shots outside and she knew what was happening: Craig had made it with the Marines he planned to bring. She sized up the situation. In the house were seven armed Czechs with her, Orlov and Vladimir. When Craig and the Marines raced up the stairs, all hell would break loose with bullets flying everywhere. Orlov could easily be killed in the crossfire. She couldn’t let that happen. They needed Orlov alive.

In response to firing outside, Franz had directed the Czechs to take positions behind the bulky furniture. Suddenly, she saw a metal canister flying up the stairs. It landed on the floor with a thud, filling the room with tear gas. In the haze and pandemonium, she grabbed Vladimir’s computer and smashed it against the side of Orlov’s head, knocking him out.

Coughing and gagging, she dragged Orlov into a bedroom and opened a window. She leaned out, gasping for breath. When she could breathe normally, she picked up Orlov and held his head out of the window. He was semiconscious, but breathing and alive. She left him hanging on the windowsill while she opened all the other windows in the bedroom and moved a dresser away from the wall. She dragged Orlov behind it and hid there with him.

For the next five minutes, she heard endless rounds of automatic weapons firing. The noise was deafening. She held her hands over
her ears.

Finally, all was silent. Still, she didn’t move. Then she heard it from the entrance to the bedroom. The most wonderful sound in the world. Craig’s voice. “Elizabeth… Elizabeth… Elizabeth, are you in here?”

“Yes,” she called out. “Behind the bureau.”

He pulled it away from the wall. She stood up, threw her arms around him, and kissed him.

“Did they harm you?” he asked.

“No. I’m fine. And I have Orlov.”

As if on cue, Orlov stood up and, woozy, staggered out from behind the bureau. Then he collapsed onto the bed.

“I think he’ll be alright,” Elizabeth said. “I just gave him a tap on the head. What happened in there?”

“All seven Czechs are dead. The other Russian, too.”

“He’s Vladimir, a Russian aerospace scientist enlisted to help Orlov. The real Vladimir Drozny.”

“Two Marines are wounded. Not seriously.”

He handed her a gun. “Stay in here and keep your eye on Orlov. Also send that video of Androshka’s murder to my phone. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I have a little more cleanup. Then we move on.”

“One important thing. Orlov threatened to kidnap or kill Jill’s daughter. I don’t know if he set it in motion with people at the Russian embassy or if he was bluffing, but you better call Washington.”

“Thanks.” Craig reached for his cell phone. “I’ll call the agents at Jill’s house. Tell them what you’ve learned. I’ll put them on alert and have them beef up security. Hopefully, they’ll get there before the Russians.”

Craig walked back into the living room. Two Marines were bandaging their wounded comrades.

Captain Curtis told Craig, “Once we’ve stopped the flow of blood, I’d like to take my people back to the base in the chopper if that’s okay with you Mr. Page?”

“Absolutely,” Craig said. “And thanks for a job well done.”

Giuseppe walked into the room. At the end of Craig’s report, Giuseppe said, “I’ll call the Czech authorities and have them pick up the bodies. I have the Czech helicopter on hold outside the chateau with the pilot inside. Can I transport you, Elizabeth, and Orlov somewhere?

“Yes, but first I want to have a little chat with Orlov.”

Craig returned to the bedroom. He told Elizabeth, “I called Washington. Nothing has happened at Jill’s house. We’ve expanded security. She’s fine and wanted me to tell you that she never gave Drozny the true equations for PGS.”

“I’m so glad she’s alright.”

Orlov was coming around, but not fast enough for Craig. In the bathroom, he found a bucket and poured cold water over Orlov’s head. The Russian was now conscious. Elizabeth had the gun aimed at him.

Craig wasn’t sure Orlov recognized him. So he said, “I’m Craig Page. CIA Director.”

“Who’s she?” Orlov said, pointing to Elizabeth.

“You don’t have to know.”

“She sure had me fooled. I was convinced she was Jill Morgan.”

“Let me show you something.”

Craig handed Orlov his phone, set to the video of Androshka’s murder.

While Orlov watched the video, Craig studied his face. Horror gave way to pain. He cried out, “That dirty bastard.” Then Orlov put his head into his hands and cried. “She never hurt anybody,” he said through muffled sobs. “She took care of me when I was wounded in the army… I loved her.”

Craig took back the phone and converted it to the record mode. He placed it on the bed close to Orlov.

“Do you want Zhou to be punished for your sister’s murder?”

“More than anything in the world. I want revenge. Zhou has to pay for what he did. He can’t get away with killing Androshka.”

“I can help you get that revenge.”

“How? I’ll do anything for you.”

“First, tell me what Zhou had to do with your effort to obtain PGS?”

“Everything,” Orlov replied without hesitation. “It was all his idea. I never even heard of PGS. He and his chief military scientist taught me everything I needed to know. They even…”

“Who was the scientist?”

“Jiang Hua. He gave me the names and bios of the Epsilon Unit of Rogers Laughton. You think I found Paul Walters and Jill Morgan on my own? Jiang told me about the conference where Jill was speaking. Then Zhou ordered me to move the rendezvous point with Jill outside the United States.”

“What about Dalton’s assassination?”

“Zhou’s idea, too. He was afraid Dalton would impose trade sanctions against China for human rights violations.”

“What did President Kuznov have to do with these operations?”

“Kuzov went along. He helped me with logistics on the Dalton operation, including giving me the name of Valerie Clurman, a Secret Service employee whose computer I broke into to obtain the schedule for Dalton’s flight to Camp David. Kuznov had known Valerie at Oxford a long time ago. On PGS, Kuznov supplied Vladimir Drozny.”

Kuznov’s involvement didn’t make sense to Craig. “What did Kuznov stand to gain?”

“He hated Dalton and feared American economic coercion. On PGS, Zhou told me that Russia would have access to PGS as well as China. I reported that to Kuznov. Also, Kuznov desperately wants an alliance with China. He wants Zhou to come to Moscow to solidify that alliance. These were just preliminary steps to show Kuznov’s good faith.”

“Why’s he so concerned about an alliance with China?”

“He views it as a critical step in Russia’s military and political resurgence. I was just a small cog in all of this. An intermediary brought in by Kuznov because he knew my sister was Zhou’s mistress.”

Craig now had recorded as much of the story as he needed. Enough to forward to President Treadwell and have Treadwell authorize Craig to proceed with his endgame.

Craig said to Orlov, “Take me to Moscow with you. I want to meet with President Kuznov as a representative of President Treadwell. If you do that, you will get your revenge. I promise you that.”

“I don’t know,” Orlov said, sounding nervous. “I don’t know.”

Craig could read his mind. “You’re worried Kuznov will turn on you. Say you’re a fuckup and he had nothing to do with any of this. Is that it?”

After a silence of thirty seconds, Orlov nodded.

Craig added, “You’re between a rock and a hard place. If you won’t take me to Kuznov, you’ll not only lose your revenge against Zhou, but I’ll fly you back to the United States to stand trial for the murders of Dalton, Angie, Paul Walters, and a trucking agent in Pittsburgh.”

“I didn’t push Walters into the Potomac. He jumped.”

“Doesn’t matter. Nobody will care about that. You’ll be headed straight for the electric chair.”

Craig handed Orlov his cellphone. “Call Kuznov and tell him to expect us.”

Orlov placed the call.

Afterwards, Craig told Giuseppe, “Arrange a plane at Prague airport to take me and Orlov to Russia.”

“Will do. I’ll get you to the airport in the chopper. Elizabeth, too.”

Once they were airborne, Craig’s cell rang. It was Betty. “Don’t you ever listen to your voice mail. I’ve been trying to get you.”

“Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

“Hang up with me. I want to send you a text that’ll knock your socks off.”

Craig knew that Betty wasn’t prone to hyperbole. This had to be something. As the chopper tossed around in the wind, Craig read the text Betty forwarded. The CIA had finally been able to break the code and prepare a transcript of the encrypted call between Zhou, when he was still in Bali, and his brother in Beijing. In astonishment, Craig read:

Zhou Yun: The anesthesiologist has been paid off. He will mix potassium chloride with the anesthetic. Then he’ll appear to be doing everything he can to save President Li. No one will suspect him. The medical examiner is with us as well. He’ll conclude it was one of those unfortunate situations that sometimes occur in surgery.

President Zhou: Excellent.

Elizabeth was staring at Craig. He didn’t want to say anything with Orlov in listening range. So he told her, “I’m going to send a text message from Betty to your phone. Read it. We’ll discuss it at the airport.”

As she read, Craig thought: if all goes well with Kuznov in Moscow, careful distribution of this text will ensure that no one will be upset about Zhou’s passing from the scene. In Beijing, they’ll be happy to have Mei Ling replace Zhou.

When they reached the airport, Craig asked Giuseppe to take Orlov onto the private plane that Giuseppe had arranged.

“Guard him,” Craig said. “I have to call Treadwell.”

Craig was able to get through to the president immediately. After giving Treadwell a report, Craig obtained the president’s approval for the endgame.

Then, Craig took Elizabeth aside. “The phone conversation between Zhou and his brother is a huge asset. We have to find a way to use it.” He was thinking out loud. “Suppose you sent it to Mei Ling?”

“Better yet, I’ll fly to Paris and show it to her, then help her plan her strategy. She was the runner up to Zhou in the election for president. She could forward it to people in Beijing. And then if you succeed in getting Zhou out of China…”

He completed the thought for her. “She could fly to Beijing. And take over the Presidency.”

“But she can’t leave until you have Zhou in custody.”

“Correct. The timing will be tight. It all depends on what happens in Moscow.”

“We’ll stay in close touch. We can make it work.”

Craig nodded in agreement.

“Wait here for a minute,” she said.

“Where are you going?”

“To check airplane schedules.”

She returned a couple minutes later. “There’s a flight to Paris in an hour. I’m on it.”

She came over, hugged and kissed him. “Be careful, Craig.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

“Remember Bali. You can never underestimate Zhou.”