An hour after escaping her attackers near the Rasputin house, Sofia ducked into the consular services office at the American Embassy, using her regular passport to enter. Then, using her security credentials, she gained access to an office with a secure line. She bet with herself that Burly had not yet reached across the ocean through State Department channels. Nevertheless, she felt some angst as she entered and moved about the facility.
She dialed Burly’s number. “It’s me.”
“Where are you?” He was plainly both pleased and annoyed to hear her. “How did you get on a secure line? Will you get your butt back here?”
“Not so fast. I have information you can use.”
“You need to get back here. You’re endangering a mission.”
“Novosibirsk,” Sofia retorted. “Govorov is headed to Novosibirsk. He’s saying he’s a Romanov and Rasputin’s grandson.”
“You keep fixating on Govorov.” Burly sounded flustered. “If you’re going to keep talking about him, you should know that his real name is Borya Yermolov.”
Sofia took that in. She noted that Burly neither refuted nor showed surprise at her conclusion. “Let’s not play games. Yermolov is the commonality between Gorbachev, Reagan, and Atcho. There’s no other reason for both the general secretary and the president to call Atcho in. You know it, and I know it.” She felt rising anger. “I’m mad, and losing patience.”
Both were quiet, and then Burly said, “Let’s say that you’re in the ballpark. What’s the scoop on Novosibirsk? How did you get it?”
Sofia disregarded the question. “Yermolov is going to Novosibirsk. Tell Atcho. Tell Reagan it’s time to bring out the big guns.”
When Burly spoke again, his voice was low and deliberate. “Sofia, come in. That’s not a request. You’ve got to come in.”
Sofia started to protest, but Burly kept talking. The quiet of the secure facility closed around her like a shroud.
“This could get bad,” Burly went on. “You’re not helping. Atcho sent a message to the president four days ago. He said that if you were not home within a week, he was off the job.”
Sofia remained silent. She knew that Atcho would not be recalled, and he would not duck from completing such a crucial task.
“Sofia,” Burly broke in again, “listen carefully. Do you know what a NukeX is?”
Suddenly jarred to greater awareness, Sofia’s breath caught. “Yes,” she replied hesitantly.
“Atcho is going to need one,” Burly said bluntly.
Sofia’s mind spun. “Do you mean…”
“I can’t tell you more,” Burly interrupted, “but you can see how nasty things are getting.”
“Does Atcho know?”
“No. We had a courier set up to bring the device to him, but there was a delay in having it ready. We don’t need you there causing more distraction. You’ve got to come in.”
Sofia slumped against the back of her chair. She suddenly felt emotionally and physically spent. “Does Moscow know?”
“Yes.”
Sofia looked vacantly around the bare office. “All right. I’ll be there tomorrow night.”
“Why so long?”
“It’s a long drive.”
As soon as she hung up, Burly whirled around. “Did you locate her? She was on a secure line.”
“I think she’s in France,” a man told him, “but it’ll take a little time to confirm that.”
“Call the embassy in Paris. Get them looking for her. If she read the book, that’s where she would go. Did you get a tape of the conversation?”
“Yes.”
“Analyze for background noise. We’ve got to know where she is.”
***
With only minutes to spare, Sofia hurried aboard the train to Bern, Switzerland. The weight of Burly’s news of the NukeX bore down. As the train began its journey through the night, sleep eluded her. She knew her actions might end her career, but now that was hardly a consideration. Her mind reeled with the implications of Burly’s revelation: Atcho could be required to disarm a nuclear device.
She doubted that Burly expected to see her the next evening. He knew her too well to believe that she could be deterred. Having traced the call, he would try to determine her whereabouts. That should provide her enough time to pursue the next part of her loosely forming plan.
She arrived in Bern shortly after midnight, and spent the balance of the night in a small hotel. The next morning, she hailed a taxi. Her stomach tightened when it dropped her at her destination, the US Embassy. Her adrenaline rushed as she handed her passport and State Department ID to the civilian behind the glass-enclosed booth. He scanned it and compared her picture to her face. Satisfied, he returned them.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Burly hasn’t reached here yet. The attendant showed her where to sign the guest log and gave her an unescorted visitor’s badge.
The area reserved for intelligence analysis was always behind heavy doors with cypher locks, and included a steel-encased vault. Sofia remembered where it was from being assigned there several years ago. I hope Millie still works there.
She reached the third floor. A nondescript door with a sign stood at the end of the hall. This was the office she sought. She sucked in her breath. If an order comes to arrest me, this is where they’ll get it.
A young Marine sitting at a table blocked the hall. “This is a restricted area, ma’am. May I see your ID?”
Sofia’s throat caught. She showed her visitor’s pass and pulled out her ID. The Marine examined both carefully, looked her over, and allowed her passage. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Sofia exhaled. “Do you know if Millie still works here?”
“Millie Brown? Yes, ma’am, the place couldn’t run without her. She’s in the vault. I’ll tell her you’re here.”
Moments later, a friendly voice called out. “Goodness gracious, Sofia, what are you doing here?” She turned and saw Millie, arms outstretched for a hug. “I am so glad to see you. I was thinking about you just the other day…”
Sofia had to laugh. This was vintage Millie: short, rotund, with dirty blonde hair, and nonstop talking. Millie was one of a handful of civilian intelligence specialists on staff to provide continuity between succeeding administrations. She might be friendly and exuberant, but she had gained the trust and confidence of the intelligence community by keen insights, not by missing things.
Sofia wanted to get right to the point of her visit, to acquire travel documents; but she could not appear hurried. Millie knew her way around. Embassy staff would respond to an unusual request because it was Millie who asked. Sofia was abusing their friendship to acquire what she needed. What if Burly has already reached here? She studied Millie’s face, but saw no vestige of hidden concern.
***
Five hours later, Sofia slumped into a seat on the train to Geneva. Pangs of guilt intruded on her thoughts. I owe Millie big time. Outside, the magnificence of the Alps cloaked in fresh snow swept by. She slept. Inside her bag were the documents she needed, signed by the ambassador, allowing her travel to Moscow.