Private Moscow

Chapter 108

Like rowdy party crashers, Fuller, the sergeant and I burst into a huge air-cooled room. More than eighty people were seated theatre-style, facing a podium that had been decked out in the Stars and Stripes. This was a gathering of some of the most senior military commanders in the United States, and there were a lot of uniforms and chest candy — brightly colored ribbons — on display. Marines and Secret Service agents were dotted at key points around the room. Beyond the seating area, two glass walls overlooked a vast server farm that stretched as far as the eye could see. A large clock hung from one of the interior walls, displaying a countdown that had just cycled through three minutes. The audience had been listening to Eli Carver, the Secretary of Defense, who was at the lectern, partway through his speech. He paused and looked at us in bemusement.

“Can we help you gentlemen?” he asked.

The assembled audience turned as one, and two Secret Service agents started toward us.

“Excuse me, sirs,” one of the agents said.

“Mr. Secretary, you have to stop the countdown,” Fuller responded.

“XO, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” a brigadier general asked as he got to his feet. I guessed it was Mark Hawkins, the base commander.

“Stop the countdown?” Secretary Carver asked. “Now why would we want to do that?”

“Because you’re about to hand all our military intelligence over to the Russians,” I replied.

“And you are?” Carver asked.

“My name isn’t important.”

“That’s Jack Morgan,” a woman said.

A murmur of disquiet rippled through the audience, and I scanned the room to find the speaker near the front. It was Ann Kavanagh.

Minerva.

Her words caused sensation among the crowd, who clearly recognized my name from news reports.

“He’s wanted as a Russian spy and this is clearly an attempt by a hostile government to stop us deploying technology that will give America significant tactical advantage,” Kavanagh lied.

“Take that man into custody,” Brigadier General Hawkins said.

“I can’t allow that, sir,” Fuller replied.

A squad of six Marines formed up and moved toward us, and they were joined by a couple more Secret Service agents.

“What do we do, sir?” the sergeant asked Fuller.

“Hold your ground,” Fuller replied.

“What the hell has gotten into you, Fuller?” Brigadier General Hawkins asked.

“You need to listen to this man, sir,” Fuller declared, pointing at me.

“He’s a spy and a traitor,” Ann Kavanagh countered. “He should be in prison.”

A four-star US Army general near Kavanagh stood up and barked an order. “Seize those men!”

The Marine guards and Secret Service agents rushed us, and Fuller and the sergeant raised their weapons.

“Back off!” Fuller yelled, forcing a standoff.

Everyone froze, and there was a silent, nerve-racking moment of ice-cold tension.

Only one person moved. Ann Kavanagh leaned over and spoke to a man in a dark suit. He had his back to me, but I recognized him nonetheless. I could tell who he was by the set of his shoulders. He turned to face me, and when our eyes locked, I felt a rush of anger. It was Veles, and he was posing as a member of Kavanagh’s entourage.

I couldn’t help myself. I rushed forward instinctively, and found myself staring down the barrels of a number of weapons.

“Stand down!” someone roared.

“Drop your weapons,” Fuller shouted in reply.

We were outgunned and outnumbered. It didn’t take a genius to see what would happen. The Marine squad moved in quickly, and disarmed Fuller and the sergeant, who surrendered their weapons reluctantly. I was manhandled by the Secret Service team, and the three of us were thrown face down onto the concrete floor.

We’d tried to prevent a strategic catastrophe, and we’d failed.

It was over.