(1980) The Second Lady (41 page)

‘Whatever you wish,’ he said, faintly amused. ‘Comrade Vavilova, we have worked almost three years on this project. We have expended countless hours of energy and an enormous sum of money to bring you to this moment. Now the moment is here. This will be the meeting we had planned for late tonight.’ He squinted at her through his rimless glasses. ‘You have everything we need, you say?’ ‘Yes, everything.’ ‘From the President himself?’ ‘Yes, first-hand.’

‘You believe what you heard from him? He did not suspect you, try to outwit or deceive you?’

Vera smiled. ‘He spoke the truth. We were in bed. We made love. He was grateful.’

He looked her over. ‘I imagine he was.’ If there had been levity in his tone, it was gone now. ‘All right, I am ready. Tell me what the United States plans to do at the Summit. Tell me what you found out.’ ‘No,’ she said.

Apparently, he did not believe his ears. ‘What’s that?’ ‘No, I won’t tell you what I found out.’ Premier Kirechenko was visibly taken aback. ‘You won’t tell me?’

‘No, I won’t,’ she said flatly.

He stared at her, bewildered. ‘What the devil is going on here? Am I crazy or is it you? Did I hear you correctly? You refuse to deliver the information?’

‘Exactly.’ She braced herself. ‘I will not hand you my death warrant.’

His bewilderment seemed to increase. ‘What are you talking about? What death warrant? Speak lucidly, and don’t try my patience any further.’

Vera spoke in a rush, i know what you are up to. I heard it all from a reliable source. From the moment I tell you what I know of the American plans, I am as good as dead. Once I deliver their secrets to you, once I leave here, I am to be executed. Because I know too much. I am to be wiped out by your KGB. Tonight, in fact.’

He looked astounded. Either he is the better actor of the two of us, she thought, or he truly doesn’t know what the KGB has in mind for me.

‘What?’ he was saying. ‘What kind of drivel is that? Where did you hear such a thing?’

‘From a White House source who heard it from one of the President’s aides.’

‘White House source?’ he repeated. ‘What would you have to do with such a person?’

She drew back her shoulders. ‘Sir, I must remind you, I am the First Lady of the United States.’

He snorted. ‘Of course, of course, I quite forgot.’ His flinty eyes bore into her. ‘You have been duped by your new White House friends,’ he said. ‘By some means, they may suspect you. They wish to prevent you from passing on to me anything you have learned. They are clever, using you this way. But surely you, yourself, are too clever to be duped. You are on our side. You are one of us. We are in this together against them. So let us stop this drivel and move ahead. Simply give me what you know. You will be rewarded beyond anything you can imagine for your patriotic effort. So speak out now.’

She tightened her lips, and was silent for long seconds. She spoke at last. ‘I do not trust you.’

She could see he was making an effort to restrain his temper. ‘Comrade Vavilova,’ he said softly, too softly, menace cradling each word, ‘you are insolent. I may be forced to teach you to trust roe. I have the means to extract the information from you before you leave this room.’

Vera was almost reckless in her bravado. ‘Of course, you can do anything you please with me. Which supports everything I have been saying. You are surrounded by brutes, by torturers, by executioners. But you will not order them to help you this time. Punish me, kill me, and the American secrets die with me. I am not afraid of you.’

Premier Kirechenko sat stone still across from her, staring at her. All that could be heard was a clock ticking somewhere. Abruptly, that stone facade broke. His body slumped

back in his chair. His-glasses came off, and his stern face split into a broad grin. ‘You win, Comrade,’ he said, almost cheerfully. ‘You are a strong woman, and I respect strong women. Yes, of course, you are quite right — Petrov’s plan was to execute you after you left me. Foolish, I knew it was foolish from the start. I was against it, but Petrov insisted, and I let him prevail. After that, I put it out of my mind. But I admit it was a crude mistake. I will rectify it. I will rescind the execution order. Here and now, I guarantee your safety.’ He looked pleased.

But Vera was shaking her head. ‘Your word is not enough,’ she said. ‘I need a foolproof guarantee.’

‘Well, what would satisfy you? How can I guarantee your safety?’ Absently he picked up a pencil and doodled on a Dorchester Hotel pad. ‘What could it be? Do you have anything specific in mind?’ ‘Not yet.’

He put down his pencil. ‘Here’s an idea. Perhaps it will do. A visa to a neutral country. We would change your appearance one more time and arrange for you to enjoy permanent residence in — let us say Sweden or Switzerland - with an ample pension fund deposited in your name in either country. How does that sound?’

‘Not too promising,’ said Vera. ‘I would still be vulnerable. Petrov’s bloodhounds would find me. You would fear blackmail from me, and you and Petrov would have me found and killed. It must be something better, something that would make me truly safe.’

They both sat there, each .thinking about it, both trying to come up with an acceptable solution.

At least two or three minutes had passed when Premier Kirechenko stirred and leaned toward her. He seemed fascinated by something, some new idea. ‘I’ve just thought of a possibility,’ he said, ‘rather daring, but workable, one that might satisfy you in every way.’ ‘Tell me,’ she said eagerly.

‘You know, except for the suspicions of some White House people — and these suspicions need not be taken seriously

because no one could actually ever prove you are not the authentic First Lady — except for that, you have successfully deceived everyone imaginable in these past weeks, haven’t you? The President, his staff, the politicians, Mrs Bradford’s closest friends, the press, all have accepted you as America’s First Lady.’

‘Completely.’

‘Well then. How would you like to continue to be the First Lady for life?’

‘For life?’ She had no comprehension of what he was leading up to.

‘Yes, for as long as Bradford remains in the White House, the rest of his term, his next four-year term, and after that remain the former First Lady, honoured wherever you go, a celebrity for as long as you live. Wouldn’t you like that?’

Vera had not really thought about such a possibility, or rather about the pleasure her First Lady role gave her. Not thought about it? Simply not true. She had thought about it. She had thought about it frequently. From time to time, these past weeks, she had entertained fantasies about going on with her role. Sometimes, she would forget altogether that she was a spy and a Soviet citizen. She would see only golden America wrapped around her, America with its riches, luxuries, easy living. And herself, as America’s First Lady, and her possessions of power, respect, fame, the most famous female on earth. Even marriage to the President, later the ex-President, was pleasant. Andrew Bradford was relatively undemanding, easy to live with, even attractive in some ways. Of course, she could never love him as she loved Alex, and she would have to forfeit Alex, but still power could never be bought without some sacrifice. As for her acting career, it would be lost, but in her real-life role she would always be in the limelight and before cameras and the public. Oh, she had fancied it all in these past weeks. It looked even better to her now, especially now, when she could never live safely in the Soviet Union again, or safely anywhere in the world. Her part in the plot had made her a threat to her masters.

Her only invulnerability lay in her role as First Lady. Was the Premier hinting he might convert her fantasy into reality?

‘What are you suggesting?’ she said warily. ‘How could I possibly be First Lady of the United States for life?’

He bent closer to her. ‘By being the only First Lady, Comrade Vavilova. By our eliminating the other First Lady. If we liquidate Mrs Bradford, you ‘would be the one remaining American First Lady in the world. For you, that would be the ultimate guarantee of your safety. Could there be a better guarantee?’

It shocked her a little, the casualness of suggesting the sudden death of an international figure. The ruthlessness of it appalled her.

‘I don’t like the idea of killing,’ she said.

‘Self-preservation is what counts in this world. Her life for yours. She will die anyway, some day, heart failure, stroke, cancer. We are merely speeding up nature. A quick and painless end to an unknown actress, while the First Lady lives on. What do you say?’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘You wanted a foolproof guarantee? Here it is. Don’t you agree?’

‘I agree it would be foolproof.’

‘Once done, it would allow you to tell me what you’ve learned and still know you are safe.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Then it shall be done. We will quietly do away with Mrs Bradford.’

‘When?’

‘Immediately. Let us say within twenty-four hours.’ He paused. ‘She will be dead and buried. You will give us what we need. Have we made a bargain?’

Vera shivered. She must push Billie, the vibrant, beautiful Billie Bradford, from her mind. She must consider no other thing except her own survival, and her fantasy come true.

She nodded. ‘I am ready to make the bargain — but on one condition.’

‘Yes?’

‘I must have proof you have killed her.’

‘You are difficult, Comrade Vavilova. You remain suspicious.’

‘With good reason. My life is at stake.’

The Premier appeared to consider this not unreasonable. ‘Very well,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You shall have indisputable proof. I will have photographs taken of her corpse after the execution. I will have them flown here. You will see them. Would that satisfy you?’

‘It would.’

‘You shall see the photographs tomorrow.’

‘One thing —’ She had exiled herself to real First Ladyhood, to an American life, too quickly. It would be lonely without anyone who had been close to her. Meaning, without Alex. True, she had been ready to sacrifice him, for her own safety, for power and wealth. But if she could have him at no cost to herself, why not? It was possible she could have all this and Alex, too, now that she had bargaining strength. ‘You say the proof will be flown here?’

‘By courier on a special aircraft. You will be notified when you can see the proof you require.’

T should like to designate the courier,’ she said.

‘Whomever you wish.’

‘Alex Razin of the KGB.’

His eyebrows went up. ‘Razin? Your mentor?’

‘And friend. I trust him. In fact, I would have him admitted to the United States, so that I could have someone, not far, to talk to from time to time.’

‘You could complicate your American life.’

T won’t,’ she said. ‘It must be Alex. He must bring me the photographs proving Billie’s death. When I see them tomorrow, and am assured she is gone and I am the only one, I will give you the information you need. I will do my part. But first you must do yours.’

T will do my part.’ He rose to his feet. ‘By morning Billie Bradford will be dead.’

An hour and a half ago, Guy Parker had caught a glimpse of Vera, as First Lady, leaving the presidential suite with her Secret Service guards. A third Secret Service agent, posted at the door of the suite, had told him that she was going to visit friends. Parker knew that she was not going to visit friends. Now that she had heard of her impending execution, he had no doubt that she was off to see someone high up in the Soviet delegation. Parker wondered how she would manage it. He also wondered how she would get the Soviets to rescind her execution. She must have some bargaining leverage now that she possessed American secrets. Maybe her Soviet superiors would permit her facial surgery and defection. Or maybe, with or without her information, they would kill her anyway.

All this time, Parker had gone from the hotel corridor to Nora’s office and back to the corridor, an eye on the elevator, watching to see whether the First Lady would return.

He had about decided that Vera had been liquidated, when he saw her emerge briskly, confidently, from the elevator, accompanied by her guards, and start toward her suite.

Quickly, Parker ducked out of the corridor and into Nora’s office. By the time he reached Nora, she was busy on the intercom. The moment she hung up, he said, ‘Our Vera is still alive.’

‘I know,’ said Nora, finding pad and pencils. ‘She wants to see me. She wants to dictate some changes in her schedule.’ He took Nora by the arm. ‘It means —’

Nora pulled free. ‘I know what it means. Right now, I’ve got to get in to her.’

She started for the connecting hallway between the two suites. Parker chased after her. ‘See what you can pick up for us.’

Nora nodded and disappeared into the Royal Suite.

Parker put an ear to the door, but the voices beyond it -Vera’s and Nora’s — were too muffled for their words to be understood. Impatiently, Parker began to pace the short distance between Nora’s cubicle and the hallway that joined the two suites. He speculated on Billie’s standin, Vera, and what she planned to do. Then he tried to consider what else he might do to entrap her. He thought that, at the first opportunity, he might try to enter her bedroom to seek something that would implicate her. But he knew there would be nothing useful there, not in a room occupied also by the President of the United States. The only option open to him was to continue following her whenever she left the hotel.

As Parker’s pacing brought him to the connecting hallway once more, the door from the presidential suite suddenly opened and Nora came through it. He looked at her questioningly. She said in an undertone, ‘Had to cut our work short. Fred Willis, the protocol person, just burst in unannounced for an emergency meeting.’

‘That’s odd.’

‘I suppose it is …. Oh, Guy, I didn’t shut her door completely. Will you please -‘ She saw his face and stopped. ‘Are you — are you going to try to listen in?’

He went to the First Lady’s door, open half an inch, and placed himself behind it. A familiar male voice floated through the crack. Something about the voice caused him to stiffen. It was a strikingly familiar voice, a pseudo-English accent combined with a slight unforgettable lisp. In the living room next door, it must be Fred Willis speaking. Yet, it was the same accented, lisping voice he had overheard earlier from his hideout in Ladbury’s shop. Could it have been Willis conspiring with Ladbury and a Soviet agent? It had to be. The voices were the same.