Patriot

CHAPTER 27

Daddy! Daddy!” Alexei cried when his father entered the White House nursery. “Guess what I did?” Alexei was sitting cross-legged on the carpet beneath a sunny window, his squirming dog, Harry, in his arms. Harry, who was now known officially as “Harry the Wonderdog.” The little boy had regained his healthy smile and complexion and was a pink-faced picture of robust English youth once more. When the dog bounded away and made a beeline for Hawke, Alexei said, “Did you know there was once a president named Harry, too, Daddy?”

“Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. Harry Truman.”

Hawke took long strides across the room, dropped his bulging Royal Navy duffel bag on the floor, and gathered the boy up into his arms. He raised him high above his head, saying, “What? What amazing thing have you done now? Nell tells me you two had quite an adventure this morning.”

“Oh, yes! The Secret Man took me to the president’s swimming pool! He’s nice. He took Nell and I—”

“Nell and me.”

“Nell and me swimming for two whole hours! Oh, Daddy, can we have a pool someday? Just like the White House one? Please?”

“The Secret Man? You don’t mean Agent Sullivan, do you? Who works here for the president?”

“Yes! I do. And I went underwater all by myself!”

“Can the boy swim, Nell? Don’t tell me he can already swim?”

“Yes! I can, Father!”

Nell laughed. “The Secret Man is a former Navy SEAL, Alex. He was working in the pool with Alexei for two hours. What do you think?”

Hawke laughed and threw his son up high and caught him.

“Do you and Nell like it here?” he said.

“Oh, yes, Daddy. Don’t we, Nellie?”

“Oh, yes, Daddy, we do, we do,” Nell said, grinning at Alex.

Hawke cupped his hand around her neck and kissed her lips. It lasted a little longer than it should have perhaps, but it was a good-bye kiss and they both attached a lot of importance to the kisses they shared whenever he flew off to put himself in harm’s way again.

“Be safe, baby,” she whispered in his ear.

“You, too, kid.”

“Are you going away again, Daddy?” Alexei said, looking up at this father with a heart full of love in his adoring blue eyes. He had the same unruly black hair as his father, and Nell Spooner had finally given up trying to keep it under control.

“Yes, darling, I am. But only for a few days, I hope. And you and Nell will have lots of fun exploring the White House with the Secret Man, I’m sure. Just wait until you see the bowling alley.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” Nell said. “And this afternoon you’re going for a pony ride, Alexei.”

A small frown clouded Hawke’s face. Nell and Alexei had a bad history with horses. Nell had almost died saving her charge from a man on a horse trying to kill them in Hyde Park one Sunday morning.

Hawke dropped to his knees and embraced his son, pulling him close.

“Now, listen very carefully. I want you to make me a promise, Alexei. You will do everything that Nell tells you to do while I’m gone. And everything Agent Sullivan says, too. No games. No running away. No hiding. No playing tricks on anybody. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be the best boy. I promise.”

“All right,” Hawke said standing up. “I’ve got to go now or I’ll be late. Good-bye, Nell.”

“Good-bye,” she said to him, quickly looking away to hide the tears welling in her eyes, those eyes that looked like two pieces of the sky.

“Good-bye, Alexei.”

“I love you, Daddy, so much.”

“I love you, son.”

“Will you be back in time for my birthday?”

“Try and stop me,” Hawke laughed, ruffling his hair.

“If your father can be here, he will be here, Alexei, don’t worry,” Nell added, knowing Hawke’s schedule changed hour by hour.

Hawke turned and headed for the door, emotions swirling inside his heart and mind.

Time to go.

Hawke looked out the airplane’s starboard side window and saw Putin’s bright red chopper’s main rotor begin to revolve just as the U.S. government — issue G4 was making its final approach at Aeroport Nice Cote d’Azur on the coast of France. “Have a look, Constable,” he said to Ambrose who was seated just across the aisle.

“At what?”

“Putin’s chopper is painted the identical shade of red as his yacht. Don’t you find that unbearably chic?”

“I’m worried about you, Alex. Seriously.”

Hawke laughed.

“You think I’m no match for the old fox? You underestimate me.”

“I certainly hope so. You know what I’ve been thinking about for the last hour or so?”

“I couldn’t begin to imagine. Sherlock Holmes? Chess moves? King takes pawn? The famous ‘King’s Indian Attack’ opening?”

“Please don’t be clever. I’m thinking about what you told Brick Kelly. That something doesn’t smell right to you about this whole scenario. This sudden invitation to go yachting.”

“Yes. Do you smell it, too?”

“Perhaps. Here’s the dichotomy you face, Alex. Putin is perhaps the most powerful bad man on the planet. Certainly the richest man on the planet. His resources know no boundaries. Forty billion is said to be conservative. I know you think he likes you. And you’re rather fond of him in the most peculiar way.”

“Not peculiar at all. I think he’s amusing at times. He can be very funny, you know.”

“Hard to believe.”

“Not to mention that were it not for Volodya, I would have been impaled on a stake on an island prison and left to rot in the noonday sun. My child’s mother would have died in front of a firing squad in Lubyanka Prison. And my son would have had his brains bashed in the moment he was born.”

“Well. There is that.”

“There certainly is that. Did you know he wants me to defect to Russia and work for him?”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Don’t you find that funny? That he would be so brazen about it? That’s why I like him.”

“Just be careful, Alex. Because as hilarious as you seem to find this much-vaunted friendship with an evil dictator, it doesn’t come without its downside.”

“Such as?”

“He could turn on you in a heartbeat. If he felt for one moment that it would serve his purposes to take you off his chessboard, I have no doubt in the world that he would do it.”

Hawke buckled his seat belt seconds before the plane touched down at Nice and began to taxi outward to the waiting Russian chopper that would ferry them on the short hop to Cap d’Antibes on the French Riviera.

He was thinking about what Ambrose had said.

And of course, as usual, he was absolutely right.

Half an hour later, the three men were basking in the soft sunlight you only find in the South of France. A cool breeze came up off the sea and rippled the colorful flags that were rigged on the backstay from the masthead down to the aftermost cleat on the yacht’s wide stern.

Tsar was moored within spitting distance of the Hôtel du Cap. It was Hawke’s favorite hotel in the world and if it weren’t for Putin’s famous hospitality aboard the three-hundred-million-dollar ship, he’d be sleeping there tonight.

“Well. Good to see you, Chief Inspector. And you as well, Alex,” Putin said, after the red-jacketed steward who’d served their drinks had withdrawn. “You look fit, old boy, well rested. Troubles me. I like to think we keep your side awake at night. That we get on your nerves.”

Hawke smiled.

“Oh, you do that, too, Volodya. But the mere fact that the chief inspector and I are sitting here in splendor at your request would indicate that you’re lost without me. Thus, my confident smile and easy manner. Right, Ambrose?”

Congreve was staring at the Russian when he said, “The whole world seems to find us indispensable, Alex, not just President Putin.”

Putin found a laugh deep down inside, and there was sudden merriment in those light blue eyes that many who’d met him described as cold or ruthless. Ambrose was instantly aware of what forged this odd bond between one of Britain’s greatest warriors and the man many thought of as one of the world’s great villains. It was mutual respect. And, on some level, their intelligence found a connection through self-assurance, confidence, and humor.

“We were both sorry to hear about your untimely loss, Volodya. I understand you and the late general were very close.”

“Thank you. Tragic. I shall miss that old soldier deeply. After hearing of your success with the Paris murder, I am eternally grateful that you both agreed to help me find his killer. In each of your staterooms you will find a dossier prepared by my office that contains everything we’ve been able to ascertain about what happened that night. You’re already aware that he was killed aboard Tsar in the harbor over at Monte Carlo?”

Hawke nodded. “We are.”

“I think it best if we wait until you have digested the contents of the file before we take up this matter in any detail. Is that agreeable?”

“Indeed, I was going to suggest it, President,” Ambrose said.

“Good. I’ve got a reservation for lunch across the way at the Eden Roc restaurant. Hôtel du Cap. Best-looking women in the south of France. I know you like it, Alex; we’ve dined there before. Would either of you care for some water?”

“Water? It’s delicious. What is it?” Ambrose asked, plucking a cold half-liter bottle from the icy champagne bucket. The bottle’s bright red label proclaimed it to be a natural elixir called “Feuerwasser.”

“Elixir?” Hawke said.

“Vodka,” Putin replied. “We call vodka ‘little water’ in Russia. The ‘Water of Life’”

“I’d be delighted.”

“Ah, you’ll like it, Alex. Very potent, shall we say. Our Russian specialty vodkas have become very chic, you see. This vodka is bottled for me in Germany. Worldwide sales, even in America. The manufacturer ships hundreds of thousands of cases each year. I was responsible for the first case served over here at Hôtel du Cap. Now they don’t even offer Stoli anymore. I hate competition, as you know. Stoli doesn’t know who it’s dealing with!” He took a deep swallow and laughed.

Ambrose craned his head around to see what restaurant they were talking about. There was an extremely beautiful hotel perched on the edge of the rocky cliff, surrounded by manicured gardens studded with lovely old pine trees. A more modern wing stood atop the seaside cliffs.

“What is that place over there?” he said. “It looks marvelous.”

“It is marvelous, Chief Inspector. That is the Eden Roc beach club. My launch will ferry us over. Say, one o’clock? Perhaps you’d both like to retire to your staterooms and freshen up? Your bags have already been unpacked.”

Hawke caught Congreve’s eye and winked. They both knew what that meant.

Putin got to his feet and smiled. He didn’t need to say that he clearly had other matters to attend to. Hawke was struck by the set of his powerful shoulders and the jutting jaw as he turned away and strode toward the bow.

Say what you will about Vladimir Putin, he thought, this is a man on a mission.

One night, some years ago now, Hawke had shared a prison cell with the then recently ousted Putin. It was most unpleasant: a dank, lead-lined hole in the dungeon of a horrific place, a fortress island called Energetika. Every square inch of the prison, every surface, every stone, every nail, and every denuded tree was burned ash black by decades of radioactive assault. The prison, not so ironically, had been built atop the mound of rock the Soviet Navy had used as a dumping ground for all its nuclear waste. Hence, Putin’s lead-lined cell, provided secretly by his supporters inside the Kremlin.

Putin had that night given Hawke a peek into his soul that few if any other men had ever been made privy to. After a long night of cigarettes, Hawke had simply asked the infamous Russian leader what made him tick. And the floodgates had opened wide.

“I am a born patriot,” Putin had begun. “My father and two brothers died defending our homeland, the city of Stalingrad. At the age of sixteen, I walked into the local KGB front office in St. Petersburg and tried to sign up. They laughed at me and suggested I go get an international law degree first, which I did, and come back later, which I also did. I was posted to East Berlin in the days before our wall came down. I spent most of my free time reading the history of my beloved country. At work? Well, there were plenty of Germans who deserved my undivided attention, shall we say.

“You in the West are deeply offended at my actions in Crimea, the Ukraine, Georgia. Let me tell you about the Ukraine. Countless Russian boys have lost their lives defending Kiev from invaders over the centuries. When Napoleon invaded Russia, he came in the Ukraine door. Likewise Hitler. And I knew that if I left that door open, sooner or later it would be some other rampaging horde streaming through the wide open gate of the Ukraine. So I closed it. That’s all there is to it. It’s Russian soil, damn it. My soil.”

“You’d like to have back all your old Soviet real estate I take it, Volodya.”

“You’re damn right I would. What happened to my country was a criminal outrage. A deliberate humiliation orchestrated by the West. Well, the West better watch their fucking backs, Alex.”

“Is that a threat? Do you want me to convey that message?”

“Listen to me. When I deliver a threat, I deliver it in person. I may be locked inside this prison cage of steel now, but it won’t always be my home. I have time to think here. And all I think about is the future glory of my homeland. You can convey that if you want to.”

In the morning, Hawke learned that his new friend had granted him a stay of execution.