In the Shadow of Mordor

Chapter 42

Williams took Vlad on a short driving tour of Washington before introducing him to AEI. It was nearing the end of October, and the air had acquired a chill. But as if to welcome Vlad, the alabaster monuments and buildings shone a brilliant white under a cloudless sky. Everything looked so new, and like Alexandria, there was a limit on the height of buildings that somehow imparted a sense of human proportion that emphasized that government here was subordinate to the people. Vlad was well aware that even here that concept was not universal, but for the moment he chose to ignore it.

The headquarters of the American Enterprise Institute are on 17^th Street, just a few steps from the venerable Mayflower Hotel. It was a bit late in the year, but Vlad had been accepted into the fall internship program’s Russian Studies group under the aegis of one of the institute’s resident scholars. Unlike most interns, Vlad’s expenses would be paid while he was in the U.S.

The meeting with Ethan Holmes was more complicated because it was to be confidential. So they gathered one evening in Vlad’s hotel room.

It required several hours to tell the whole story and finally show the American reporter the report written so long ago by Zhuravlev and play Sergey Illarionov’s recording of Tretyakov’s jailhouse confession. Holmes did not understand Russian, but he had seen and heard enough to be convinced.

The next task was for Holmes to convince his editor of the value and validity of the story. Fortunately, the news cycle was nearly stagnant with most attention focused on domestic matters. Although the editor was not particularly interested in the fate of Russian dissidents, Holmes sold the idea as a human interest story. He thought there was enough material to serialize over several editions and also would appear on the Post’s web page.

In the meantime, as agreed with Holmes, Vlad began work on the article. He would write very little about himself but rather focus on his father and the man’s dedication to getting the truth into print, even at the risk of his own life. He decided to entitle the article “In the Shadow of Mordor.”

Vlad had no choice but to write in Russian, and he was immensely grateful for Williams’ offer to stick around long enough to complete a translation. The article, complete with photos of his father that Vlad had stored on his camera was ready for publication at the end of November. But it was postponed.

That was when the Clarendon metro station exploded.

A cab dropped Vlad in front of the AEI building. The entire Metro transit system was at a halt on orders from the Department of Homeland Security. Snow had stopped falling early yesterday morning, but there was still a sharp chill in the air. He stepped carefully over the curb with his eyes down, wary of slipping on a patch of ice.

When he raised his gaze, he stopped cold and stared at the last person on earth he ever thought to see again.