Page 169 of Hush
“It’s not that. Your business with the man is all in the past, right?”
“Ancient history. A different geological epoch.”
Ballard smiled. “We wanted to know if you were open to helping the investigation. Baryshnikov has given us information on Barnes in order to spare his ass a one-way ticket to Guantanamo, but he’s not saying anything else. He says he’ll only talk if he gets to see you again. Talk to you.”
Tom turned away, watching Etta Mae root around in his dead planters. Circles within circles within circles. His past, roaring back in every which way, every possible way imaginable. Freedom and incarceration, choices made and unmade and remade.
The last time he’d seen Pasha, Pasha had threatened to attack him and kill him. And the time before that, twenty-five years ago, Pasha had cradled his face and told him he loved him, loved everything about him, and wanted to be with him forever. The same man, a lifetime apart. Circles within circles within circles.
Buthewas a different man than the Tom Brewer who’d been there for both of those memories. Different from twenty-five years ago, and different from just a few days ago.
“No. Pasha is completely free. Free to talk, free to deal, free to make up his own mind. He’s capable of deciding whether he speaks up to save his own neck without me. I won’t be blackmailed into seeing him again. He has no power over me. Nothing and no one has any power over me. Not anymore. I have no obligation to the man. If he wants to condemn himself over his stubbornness, that is his free choice.”
On Thursday, Tom watched Dylan Ballard on TV, giving an address from the steps of the courthouse.
“The United States government has come into new evidence which changes the course and focus of our investigation. At this time, the government is declining to continue the prosecution of Mr. Vadim Kryukov. Mr. Bulat Desheriyev, who has already pleaded guilty to four counts of homicide and attempting to assassinate the Russian president, will be sentenced at a later date.”
He did not take questions. The media frenzy tripled.
Russian President Vasiliev exploded in a press briefing after, accusing the United States of covering up their own conspiracy and trying to get away with murder, as well as his own attempted murder. He vowed that the Russian people would not stand for this abject degradation of the international order, and the international rule of law, and he put, officially, the United States “on notice”.
In the new light of understanding, Tom saw his words for what they were: the bluster of a buffoon, the railings of a man trying too hard to sell his outrage. He ranted and roared, and the media gobbled the outrage up, utterly convinced the world was tipping over into the chasm of the next global conflagration, a war that would devastate millions, perhaps billions. Russia would react over this, the news assured Tom. They would seriously react over this. What on earth was the U.S. government thinking?
Still, every nation on the planet was locked and loaded, ready for war. Sides were already being called, alliances drawn up. Military exercises ramped up in the South China Sea, the Norwegian Sea, and off the Baltics and Kaliningrad.
Chapter 41
August 7th
Friday morning, President McDonough sat with his Secretary of State, his National Security Advisor, his close staff, and Dylan Ballard in the Situation Room at the White House. They all listened to Russian President Dimitry Vasiliev, his booming voice echoing out of the speakerphone embedded in the long conference table.
“Mr. President, you cannot expect that we will allow this travesty to stand. You know we know the truth. You know we know what you and your CIA ordered. This, Mr. President, is an act ofwar.”
“Actually, Mr. President, you and I both know whatreallyhappened here in DC. Itwasan act of war. An act of war against America, by Russia.”
“Howdareyou—”
“An act of war perpetrated by you, President Vasiliev. We know all about it.”
“First you attempt to kill me and now you threaten me with—”
“We have Pasha Baryshnikov. I understand he’s an old friend of yours? At least, that is what he’s telling us. He’s also telling us all about the plot you two concocted. How you planned this entire operation, not just to frame America for the attempted assassination, but wipe out two troublesome dissidents as well: Bulat Desheriyev and Vadim Kryukov. Kryukov has been a thorn in your side for some time now, hasn’t he? Wasn’t he the man who exposed the sexual abuse going on in Russian prisons? He kicked off that investigation by Amnesty International, right? And wasn’t Russia accused of gross human rights violations? Wait, I have the report here. Let me refresh my memory. Yes, that’s right. ‘Gross human rights violations’.”
Silence, from Vasiliev.
“Let me beperfectlyfucking clear, Dimitry. We knoweverything. We know that you cloned Kryukov’s voice and hired Desheriyev. You used Pasha Baryshnikov as your footman, planting evidence against Kryukov. The cocaine. The text from his phone. You even had Baryshnikov order Desheriyev to shoot you in the chest instead of the head. You were wearing a vest, weren’t you? A level four vest to catch rifle rounds. But that doesn’t cover the head, does it? No wonder the Secret Service thought you were a heavy fat ass when they carried you to your motorcade, thinking they were saving your life. With a rifle that powerful, you’re lucky all you walked away with was a shattered shoulder.”
More silence.
“You tried to frame an innocent man, the CIA, and plunge the world into war. Your plan cost the lives of three Americans, three brave men who were doing their duty. You, Dimitry Vasiliev, are a murderer. You murdered Americans, and that is an act of war. You have also used this entire conspiracy to invade NATO allied countries. I will say this once, and only once: get your fucking troops out of the Baltics, or we will force them out.”
Vasiliev hummed, a combination grumble and hiss. “Estonia has experienced… internal secession problems, of late. That is entirely an internal matter. We do not care about such things.”
“I expect every single Russian soldier to be gone, out of NATO lands, in twenty-four hours. Or our missiles will take care of any stragglers.”
Vasiliev snorted.
“The American diplomats you have illegally arrested will also be released. Immediately. Have I made myselfperfectlyfucking clear, Dimitry?”
