The Doomsday Conspiracy (22 page)

"They'll have a good time with you at headquarters."

"Wait!" She was in a panic, not knowing what to do. She had heard horror stories of what had happened to people who had been arrested and become zeks. She had thought that that was all finished, but now she could see that it was not. Perestroika was still just a fantasy. They would not allow her to have an attorney or talk to anyone. In the past, friends of hers had been raped and murdered by the GRU. She was trapped. If she went to jail, they could keep her for weeks, beating her and raping her, maybe worse. With these two men, at least it would be over in a few minutes and then they would let her go. Olga made her decision.

"All right," she said miserably.

"Do you wish to go back to my apartment?" Gromkov said, "I know a better place." He turned the car around. Zemsky whispered, "I'm sorry about this, but he's in charge. I can't stop him."

Olga said nothing.

They drove past the bright red Shevchenko Opera House and headed for a large park bordered by trees. It was completely deserted at this hour. Gromkov drove the car under the trees and turned off the lights and Page 132

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engine.

"Let's get out," he said.

The three of them got out of the car.

Gromkov looked at Olga.

"You're lucky. We're letting you off easy. I hope you appreciate it." Olga nodded, too frightened to speak. Gromkov led them to a small cleared area.

"Get undressed."

"It's cold," Olga said.

"Couldn't we-?"

Gromkov slapped her hard across the face.

"Do as you're told before I change my mind." Olga hesitated an instant, and as his arm drew back to hit her again, she started unbuttoning her coat.

"Take it off" She let it drop to the ground.

"Now the nightgown."

Slowly, Olga lifted the nightgown over her head and pulled it off, shivering in the cold night air, standing naked in the moonlight.

"Nice body," Gromkov said. He squeezed her nipples.

"Please-"

"You make one sound, and we take you to headquarters." He pushed her to the ground.

I won't think about this. I'll pretend I'm in Switzerland on the bus tour, looking at all the beautiful scenery.

Gromkov had dropped his pants and was spreading Olga's legs apart. I can see the Alps covered with snow. There is a sleigh going by with a young boy and girl in it.

She felt him place his hands under her hips, and he shoved his maleness into her, hurting her.

There are beautiful cars along the highway. More cars than I have ever seen in my life. In Switzerland everybody has a car. He was plunging into her harder now, pinching her, making wild, animal noises. I will have a little home in the mountains. What do the Swiss call them? Chalets. And I will have chocolates every day. Boxes of them. Gromkov was withdrawing now, breathing heavily.

He stood up and turned to Zemsky.

"Your turn." I will get married and have children, and we will all go Page 133

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skiing in the Alps in winter.

Zemsky had zipped open his pants and was climbing on top of her. It will be such a wonderful life. I will never return to Russia. Never. Never. Never.

He was inside her now, hurting her more than the other man had, squeezing her buttocks and pushing her body into the cold ground until the pain was almost unbearable.

We will live on a farm where it's quiet and peaceful all the time, and we will have a garden with beautiful flowers. Zemsky finished with her and looked up at his companion.

"I bet she enjoyed it." He grinned.

He reached down for Olga's neck and broke it.

The following day there was an item in the local paper about a librarian who had been raped and strangled in the park. There was a stern warning from the authorities that it was dangerous for young women to go to the park alone at night.

FLASH MESSAGE TOP SECRET ULTRA

DEPUTY DIRECTOR GRU TO DEPUTY DIRECTOR NSA

EYES ONLY

COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES

SUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY

8. OLGA ROMANCHANKOKIEvTERMINATED

END OF MESSAGE

Willard Stone and Monte Banks were natural enemies. They were both ruthless predators, and the jungle they prowled was the stone canyons of Wall Street, with its high-powered takeovers, leveraged buyouts, and stock deals.

The first time the two men clashed was during the attempted takeover of a huge utility company. Willard Stone made the first bid and anticipated no problem. He was so powerful and his reputation so fearsome that very few people dared challenge him. It was a great surprise then when he learned that a young upstart named Monte Banks was contesting his bid. Stone was forced to raise his own bid, and the ante kept going up. Willard Stone finally acquired control of the company, but at a much higher price than he had anticipated paying. Six months later, in a takeover bid for a large electronics firm, Stone was confronted again by Monte Banks. The bidding kept escalating, and this time Banks won. When Willard Stone learned that Monte Banks intended to compete with him for control of a computer company, he decided it was time to meet with his competitor. The two men met on neutral ground in Paradise Island, in the Bahamas. Willard Stone had made a thorough investigation into the background of his competitor, learning that Monte Banks came from a wealthy oil family and had brilliantly managed to parlay his inheritance into an international conglomerate.

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The two men sat down to lunch. Willard Stone, old and wise; Monte Banks, young and eager. Willard Stone opened the conversation.

"You're becoming a pain in the ass."

Monte Banks grinned.

"Coming from you, that's a big compliment."

"What is it you want?"

Stone asked.

"The same as you. I want to own the world." Willard Stone said thoughtfully, "Well, it's a big enough world."

"Meaning?"

"There's room enough for both of us." That was the day they became partners. Each ran his own business separately, but when it came to new projects-timber and oil and real estate-they went into deals together, instead of competing with each other. Several times the Antitrust Division of the Justice Department tried to stop their deals, but Willard Stone's connections always prevailed. Monte Banks owned chemical companies responsible for massive pollution of lakes and rivers, but when he was indicted, the indictment was mysteriously dropped.

The two men had a perfect symbiotic relationship. Operation Doomsday was a natural for them, and they were heavily involved in it. They were on the verge of closing a deal to purchase ten million acres of lush, tree-rich land in the Amazon rain forest. It was going to be one of the most profitable deals they had ever gone into. They could not afford to let anything stand in their way. Day Thirteen Washington, D.C.

The Senate of the United States was in plenary session. The junior senator from Utah had the floor.

..... and what is happening to our ecology is a national disgrace. It is time that this great body realized that it is its sworn duty to preserve the precious heritage that our forefathers entrusted to us. it is not only our sworn duty but our privilege to protect the land, the air, and the seas from those vested interests that are selfishly destroying it. And are we doing this? Are we in all conscience doing our best? Or are we allowing the voice of mammon to influence us...?" Kevin Parker, seated in the visitors' gallery, glanced at his watch for the third time in five minutes. He wondered how much longer the speech was going to last. He was sitting through this only because he was having lunch with the senator and he needed a favor from him. Kevin Parker enjoyed walking through the corridors of power, hobnobbing with congressmen and senators, dispensing largess in return for political favors.

He had grown up poor in Eugene, Oregon. His father was an alcoholic who had owned a small lumberyard. An inept businessman, he had turned what should have been a thriving business into a disaster. Page 135

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The young boy had to work from the age of fourteen, and because his mother had run away with another man years earlier, he had no home life at all. He could easily have become a drifter and ended up like his father, but his saving grace was that he was extraordinarily handsome and personable. He had wavy blond hair and fine aristocratic features that he must have inherited from some long-forgotten ancestor. A few affluent townspeople took pity on the boy, giving him jobs and encouragement, going out of their way to assist him. The wealthiest man in town, Jeb Goodspell, was particularly eager to help Kevin and gave him a part-time job with one of his companies. A bachelor, Goodspell often invited young Parker to join him for dinner at his home.

"You can be somebody in this life," Goodspell told him, "but you can't make it without friends."

"I know that, sir. And I certainly appreciate your friendship. Working for you is a real lifesaver."

"I could do a lot more for you," Goodspell said. They were seated on the couch in the living room, after dinner. He put his arm around the young boy.

"A lot more." He squeezed the boy's shoulder.

"You have a good body, do you know that?"

"Thank you, sir."

"Do you ever get lonely?"

He was lonely all the time.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, you don't have to be lonely anymore." He stroked the boy's arm.

"I get lonely, too, you know. You need someone to hold you close and comfort you."

"Yes, sir."

"Have you ever had any girls?"

"Well, I went with Sue Ellen for a while."

"Did you sleep with her?"

The boy blushed.

"No, sir."

"How old are you, Kevin?"

"Sixteen, sir."

"It's a great age. It's an age when you should be beginning to start a career." He studied the boy a moment.

"I'll bet you'd be darn good in politics."

"Politics? I don't know anything about that, sir." Page 136

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"That's why you're going to school, to learn things. And I'm going to help you."

"Thank you."

"There are plenty of ways of thanking people," Goodspell said. He rubbed his hand along the boy's thigh.

"Many ways." He looked into Parker's eyes.

"You know what I mean?"

"Yes, Jeb."

That was the beginning.

When Kevin Parker was graduated from Churchill High School, Goodspell sent him to the University of Oregon. The boy studied political science, and Goodspell saw to it that his protege met everybody. They were all impressed with the attractive young man. With his connections, Parker found that he was able to do favors for important people and to bring people together. Becoming a lobbyist in Washington was a natural step, and Parker was good at the job.

Goodspell had died two years earlier, but Parker had by then acquired a talent and a taste for what his mentor had taught him. He liked to pick up young boys and take them to out-of-the-way hotels where he would not be recognized.

The senator from Utah was finally finishing. ..... and I say to you now that we must pass this bill if we want to save what is left of our ecology. At this time, I would like to ask for a roll-call vote." Thank God, the endless session was almost over. Kevin Parker thought about the evening that lay ahead of him, and he began to get an erection. The night before, he had met a young man at Danny's P Street Station, a well-known gay bar. Unfortunately, the young man had been with a companion. But they had eyed each other during the evening, and before he left, Parker had written a note and slipped it into the young man's hand. It said simply, "Tomorrow night." The young man had smiled and nodded.

Kevin Parker was hurriedly getting dressed to go out. He wanted to be at the bar when the boy arrived. The young man was much too attractive, and Parker did not want him picked up by someone else. The front doorbell rang. Damn. Parker opened the door. A stranger stood there.

"Kevin Parker?"

"Yes-"

"My name is Bellamy. I'd like to talk to you for a minute." Parker said impatiently, "You'll have to make an appointment with my secretary. I don't discuss business after office hours."

"This isn't exactly business, Mr. Parker. It concerns your trip to Switzerland a couple of weeks ago."

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"My trip to Switzerland? What about it?"

"My agency is interested in some of the people you might have met over there." Robert flashed his false CIA identification. Kevin Parker studied the man more carefully. What could the CIA want with him? They were so goddamned nosy. Have I covered my ass?

There was no point in antagonizing the man. He smiled.

"Come in.

I'm late for an appointment, but you said this won't take more than a minute?"

"No, sir. I believe you took a bus tour out of Zurich?" So that's what this is all about. That flying saucer business. It had been the goddamndest thing he had ever seen.

"You want to know about the UFO, don't you? Well, I want to tell you, it was a weird experience."

"It must have been, but frankly, we at the agency don't believe in flying saucers. I'm here to find out what you can tell me about your fellow passengers on the bus." Parker was taken aback.

"Oh. Well, I'm afraid I can't help you there. They were all strangers."

"I understand that, Mr. Parker," Robert said patiently, "but you must remember something about them."

Parker shrugged.

"Well, a few things. ... I remember exchanging a few words with an Englishman who took our pictures."

Leslie Mothershed.

"Who else?"

"Oh, yes. I talked a little to a Russian girl. She seemed very pleasant. I think she said she was a librarian somewhere." Olga Romanchanko.

"That's excellent. Can you think of anyone else, Mr. Parker?"

"No, I guess that's about-oh, there were two other men. One was an American, a Texan."