I Minus 72 (30 page)

“How’d the DNI take it?”

“What could he do? He just said ‘yes, sir’
and we left.”

Sam moved closer to Grant and put her hand
on his upper arm. “I know you’re disappointed, Grant, but it sounds
like there was really nothing you could say to change his mind.
What’s next?” she asked.

Changing the subject, Grant simply smiled
and said, “Dinner. I ask again, what are we having?”

Sam laughed and moved back to the oven,
checking the timer. “Oh, it’s something my mother used to make. She
called it comfort food. Chicken breasts covered with a cheese and
wine sauce. All baked in the oven. Sort of like a casserole. Then
dished up over rice,” Sam replied.

“Wow, sounds great. When do we eat?” Grant
asked.

“In about fifteen minutes. Why don’t you
open a bottle of wine?”

“Great idea. Red or white?” Grant asked.

“White would go best with dinner. There’s a
bottle of Chardonnay chilling in the fridge,” Sam said waving in
the direction of the refrigerator.

Grant got out the wine, opened it and poured
two glasses, handing one to Sam.

“Oh, this is good,” Sam said, tasting her
wine.

“Yeah, it sure is. This is really nice,
coming home to dinner cooking and a good glass of wine,” Grant
paused just a moment before continuing, “especially sharing both
with you.”

“Well, thank you, sir,” Sam replied lightly,
looking up into his eyes. “And it’s very nice sharing it with you.”
Then Sam turned serious and her smile faded. “But, Grant, what are
we doing to do about finding that man?”

Grant had had enough of Vladimir for a
while, so he said gently. “Not tonight, Sam. I need to get away
from it for just this one night.”

She paused a beat before saying, “Ok, fair
enough. Let’s eat.”

I minus 5

January
15
^th

A week had passed during which, the group
met at least once a day, sometimes working together late into the
evening. They had come up with many enhancements to the security
process surrounding the inauguration, but they all knew that
nothing was foolproof. The original plan had everyone going through
airport-like metal detectors, but one of the team brought up using
the new whole body imaging technology and body scanners. That would
allow examination of the body through clothing to see if anyone was
carrying explosives, not just metal guns.

When Grant had discussed this with the
President-elect, he immediately said no, that they showed way too
much, and took too long to get everyone through. He thought that
too many of the guests, especially at the balls, would object. So
they were back to just the metal detectors for all the balls and
for most of the people at the ceremony. They did have one device
brought in, though, thinking that as they watched everyone come in
if anyone looked suspicious they’d move that person over to the
body scanner. Profiling? Maybe, but Grant didn’t care. They would
do whatever it took. They would have both male and female operators
on the scanner, so no individual would be seen by the opposite sex.
Yes, Grant was told, the scanners were that good.

They just had to keep going over all the
potential scenarios hoping that the group, along with the backups
at their individual agencies, would cover the one Vladimir might
pick. If he did, he was dead. The word was out: don’t let this guy
escape; if you have to, shoot to kill; take no chances. Yes, they
would love to question him, but this guy was way too dangerous for
the heroic measures that might be needed to take him alive. They
had photo experts enhance the grainy badge photo and age it to the
current time. They printed both on the same sheet and had
distributed it to all police officers, secret service agents and
anyone else in security who would be on duty that day. The original
photo was so bad, though, they weren’t sure anyone would recognize
the guy. Since the sheet they handed out had both the old photo and
an aged photo, they hoped there wouldn’t be too many false
identifications.

Using the DNI as leverage, the guy from
State did get the photo into the immigration system, along with an
‘arrest on sight’ order, but the process had taken almost two days.
The delay was because State decided to reprogram the scanning
computers to do pattern recognition on the passport picture of
everyone entering the US. That decision resulted in long lines,
but, well, when you are trying to protect the next President, it
was worth having everyone spend an extra couple of minutes in line.
But, let’s face it, thought Grant, Vladimir might have slipped into
the country by now.

Having no information to the contrary and,
since they were only five days from the inauguration, he had no
choice but to assume Vladimir had gotten through and was at large
in the US. As each day passed he was getting more and more
concerned for the President-elect’s safety. He had completely
forgotten that he, too, was on the assassination list.

I minus 5

January
15
^th

Vladimir had no problem entering the
country, arriving the same day as Grant and Sam, well before his
picture was in the system. Months ago, online, he had rented a
house north of Leesburg, Virginia, located just off Charles Town
Pike, Route 9, right before the road crossed over the state line
into West Virginia. The house was set back from the road and was
shielded by overgrown shrubs, trees and scrub brush growing in an
unkempt yard. Although the house was small and run down, it had a
large garage, which suited Vladimir’s needs perfectly. Someone in
the past had painted over the only window and inside, the
ramshackle garage was very private. It was rural enough that no one
would pay him the least attention. The next few days were critical.
He had a few more supplies to get. One item, in particular, might
be difficult to find, so, just in case, he had an alternative
plan.

One of the things the Russian mobster had
provided, in addition to trying to kill Thurmond and the girl, was
the name of a Russian criminal contact in the US. Vladimir had
requested that the guy obtain a block of C4 explosive and have it
delivered, not mailed, to his address in the US. He had paid Kozlov
five thousand US dollars for this. He told the guy he needed it the
day after he flew into the US and it had arrived right on time via
a courier service. Also, he had found it surprisingly easy to buy
conventional explosives to supplement the C4. He now had enough to
suit his needs and, since he had used his other forged identity for
all the purchases, none of it could be traced to his permanent US
identity.

Over the next couple of days, Vladimir
completed the rest of his purchases, finding everything he needed .
. . except for the one item he needed the most. So, he kept
looking, calling over two dozen places. With one day to spare, he
found the last item in an auto salvage yard just outside Charles
Town, West Virginia, just a short drive from his house. It was
large and bulky enough that he couldn’t pick it up in his rental
car, so he called a local rental car agency in Charles Town and,
using the US identity he planned to discard, rented a pick-up truck
for the day. No traces. He drove his rental car to the Charles Town
rental agency, picked up the truck, drove to the junk yard, bought
the item and took it back to his garage. He then returned the truck
to the rental agency, picked up his car and drove home. The whole
trip took him less than an hour and a half. With the way this had
to come down, he knew he wouldn’t get much sleep over the next
couple of days. What the hell, he’d have plenty of time to sleep
once this was over. Just two days to go.

Vladimir spent nearly all day preparing the
item he bought—a gas tank for a late model Lincoln Town Car. He
made sure no gasoline fumes were present and cut the tank in half
along the seam made when the two halves were originally welded
together. He packed one half of the tank full of the conventional
explosives, added the C4 and set up a remote-controlled fuse. The
C4 would be the first to explode. It would be a large enough blast
to detonate both the conventional explosives and the gasoline in
the other half of the tank. He then welded a thin separator plate,
effectively sealing the explosives from where the gasoline would
be, and then he carefully welded the gasoline tank back together.
When he was finished, it looked perfect—no one could tell it had
been tampered with. No one could tell how lethal it would be when
he pushed the RF transmitter.

It was nearly midnight when he finished. He
then called his PI contact, Matt Riley, who, since he was sound
asleep when the phone rang, was a little groggy when he answered
the phone.

Sitting up in bed, Riley said, “Yeah?”

“We need to talk,” replied Vladimir in his
best American voice.

“Who’s this?” Riley asked uncertainly, not
recognizing the voice.

“Your employer.” Vladimir replied.

A slight pause as this registered in Riley’s
sleepy brain, then, “Oh, hi. Not much to report.”

Vladimir got right to the point. “I need to
know the exact plans for inauguration day. Has he covered them with
you?”

“No, but all the drivers have a briefing by
Secret Service tomorrow morning in Barry’s conference room.”

“Okay. Here’s what I want you to do,”
Vladimir explained. “Some time in the afternoon when you think your
boss will be in his office for a few hours, you’re to call him
saying you’re sick and have to go home. You should also say that
you’ve arranged for a backup driver to take your place. I want you
to tell him that there will only be about an hour gap in his driver
coverage. Then I want you to come to my house so we can talk about
your final payment and letting you get back to your life. Your
assignment will be over at that point. Sound okay?”

“Sounds good. I must say, though, this has
been a good assignment. Thank you for hiring me.” Riley was awake
now, thinking of the extra cash.

“You have done a good job and you will get a
bonus when we talk. So, tomorrow, call me after you’ve told him you
are sick and I’ll give you directions to the house.”

“Thanks. See you about 3:30 tomorrow.”

They both hung up and Vladimir smiled. A
surprise bonus, indeed.

A bonus, huh? thought Riley. Great.

***

At the same time as Vladimir was hanging up,
Garcia was saying into the phone, “Yes . . . yes . . . no, I
understand, I won’t fail . . . . Yes, it’s under control. I have
full access to the task group’s work and I’m deeply involved in
every move. There’s no way he can escape alive . . . . Yes, I’ll
keep you informed.” Garcia knew his future was on the line. He had
to make sure this assassin would not live to tell his story. If he
didn’t succeed, Garcia knew his CIA career might be over and he
might have to walk away and give up the life he now had. He’d
stashed away enough money to live modestly for the rest of his life
and had a couple of alternate identities he’d used when he was
undercover. The CIA thought he’d followed standard procedure and
destroyed the passports and other things like driver’s licenses,
all of which were real and would pass any scrutiny, but he hadn’t.
Also, there was no way they could trace the money he had supposedly
paid informants over the years which, instead, had ended up in his
bank account. Just like that five grand from the embassy last week.
Interesting how all this worked out. It will be just as interesting
to see how it will all end, he thought.

I minus 1

January
19
^th

Matt Riley called Vladimir at 3:10 p.m.
saying he’d told Barry he was sick and going home and that an
alternate driver would be available in about an hour. Vladimir gave
him directions to his house.

Riley pulled into the driveway just before
4:00 p.m. Vladimir, who’d been watching from his living room window
went out to greet him.

“It’s good to finally meet you in person,”
Riley said, smiling and shaking Vladimir’s hand.

Vladimir smiled back and said, “Yes, we
should have met before now, but I’ve been extremely busy. Come into
the house where we can talk.”

When they were seated in the living room,
Vladimir asked, “What are the arrangements for tomorrow? I will be
taking your place driving the car and I need to know
everything.”

Riley explained the details and then asked,
“Why’re you taking my place? I’ve been wondering what you’re up
to.”

“It has been a dream of mine as long as I
can remember to be backstage at a presidential inaugural. When I
was small, my father took me to one, but we were standing far away
and I couldn’t really see very well. Since then I’ve been living
overseas and have never seen another one. This is my chance to see
the ceremony up close and maybe even shake the new president’s
hand. I am very excited.” Vladimir nodded and smiled
enthusiastically.

Living overseas, huh? thought Riley. That
explains the slight accent.

“
Well, you paid me a lot
of money just to be up close,” he said,

“It will be worth every penny. Now, do you
need a ride somewhere?”

Riley shrugged. “Yeah, I need a ride home.
No place else to go.”

They stood up to leave. Riley headed to the
door with Vladimir behind. Vladimir picked up the engineers hammer
he had place next to the sofa. Riley never knew what hit him. The
heavy hammer smashed through his skull, killing him instantly.
Vladimir dragged the body to the back bedroom. He searched the
body, looking for any form of identification and, finding only a
wallet, removed it. He then left the room, closing the door behind
him. He had paid six months’ rent in advance for this place, so it
would be months before anyone found the body and even longer, if
ever, before it would be identified. By that time, Vladimir
thought, I will be long gone and the identity I used to rent this
place will be untraceable.