Fires of Kiev Page 8

  “I’m still confused by his message.” She held the paper in her hands. “I guess I’d better call him. Thank you, Dr. Singh, for bringing this to me.” She started to get up when Dr. Singh waved at her to stop.

  “Here, do it now. Use my office for the call.” He stood and slipped on his lab coat. “I’ll stay with your interns until you are done.” He smiled and exited the room.

  Meredith slid the phone over toward her and punched in the number.

  Chapter 8

  The silence hung between them before either spoke. Kostya was still lost in the last scene of his story, his parents’ death. Telling it to Hannigan made the events real rather than just part of the blur his life had been.

  “How did you leave the Ukraine?” Hannigan finally asked.

  “I took the train from Vinnytsya to Lviv. From there, I boarded Poland’s Lviv Express to Krakow. In Krakow I transferred to the airport and bought a ticket to the United States.”

  “A single man, travelling alone and paying cash must have attracted attention—especially with the police reports about Kostya Dychenko being distributed.”

  “In Lviv the ticket agent mentioned that it must be inconvenient having the same last name as the subject of a manhunt.” Kostya chuckled. “I just laughed and said I hoped he was caught soon.” He ran his hands over his short, military cut hair, a necessary change made as he was fleeing the Ukraine. “Everyone else just assumed I was travelling on leave from the Ground Forces. It’s not uncommon for soldiers to exchange their paychecks for cash.”

  Hannigan folded his arms and leaned back and sighed in disbelief. “Incredible! So, you made it to the U.S. What now?”

  “That depends on your recommendation, doesn’t it?” Kostya focused on Hannigan’s eyes. “What do you see happening from here?”

  “Something like this goes to a security clearance that I can’t even dream of attaining.” He flipped through the notes he had taken so far. “Rearming Soviet nuclear missiles in the Ukraine is something our State Department is going to want to know about. Identifying the threats, working through the photographs and data you obtained, analyzing the last chip you brought in—that’s CIA. You’re going to be pulled around for a while, Kostya.”

  “But I can stay?” Kostya asked hopefully.

  “You can stay, as long as we do a couple things. One for INS requirements and one for your own protection.” Hannigan leaned back in his chair. “First, for your own protection, you need to hire a lawyer. Someone who does not work for our government, but would represent your interests.”

  “I have some money, but I would need help finding someone,” Kostya said.

  “I think once word of this situation gets out, you will have plenty of offers. This is the kind of case that can make or break an attorney’s career.”

  “Okay. What is the second thing I need to do?”

  Hannigan took off his glasses and focused on Kostya. “We contacted Meredith St. Claire. She is here and is willing to be your sponsor.”

  “Meredith?” Kostya’s stomach dropped. “She’s here? How is she?”

  “She’s doing well, but you need to know a couple things about your friend.” Hannigan smiled knowingly.

  “Like what?” Kostya looked puzzled.

  “Meredith’s father is a United States Senator. Do you know what that means?”

  Kostya’s expression dropped. “A senator? Oh my God. She never told me.”

  “She’s a bit of a celebrity around here,” Hannigan said. “If she helps you, it’s likely that your predicament will be splashed on headlines across our country.”

  “The people who want to kill me in the Ukraine will know exactly where I am.”

  “True, but if what you have is as valuable as you say, they will find you anyway. It might be nice to have the protection of the Senator’s name.” Hannigan shrugged.

  “It’s a two-edged sword. His name protects but also makes me vulnerable.”

  “If it helps,” Hannigan added, “I don’t think the girl waiting in the office back there has any doubt about helping.”

  ****

  Meredith paced the hallway outside George Hannigan’s office. Pulled out of rounds just a few hours ago, she was still wearing her blue scrubs, white sneakers, and her hair in a ponytail. She hadn’t bothered with make-up this morning, nor did she most mornings with rounds, but today she wished she had taken at least a few minutes to look her best.

  She rubbed the small key that hung around her neck. Was everything Mr. Hannigan told her on the phone possible? Was Kostya here seeking asylum in the United States? Hannigan told her it would be a little while for him to complete some papers, but then he would be coming home with her. Her responsibility.

  The door to the hallway burst open, and Will arrived.

  “Thank God you’re here,” Meredith said. “He’s going to need a really good lawyer, and I’m going to need someone with a clear head.”

  “Mer, you know I don’t do courtroom work anymore. I’ll talk to him and refer someone good, but I can’t promise anything else.” Will, well over six feet tall, was slightly geeky in his brown suit and glasses, but conveyed a sense of calm confidence. He was good at his job. He was good at his job. So good, that he was always in demand for his legal advice on matters of national security. If what Meredith had been told about Kostya was correct, this case was right up his alley.

  “Your non-promise is better than a thousand other lawyers swearing on a stack of Bibles,” Meredith said.

  “So, am I remembering right? Is this the man you met in the Ukraine? The one who saved you on the road to Kiev?” Will teased her, knowing full well who they were meeting.

  Meredith hit him lightly on the arm. “Shush. That was five years ago.” Involuntarily she reached for the key, pulled it out from her scrubs, and held it. “He’s probably married with three kids.”

  “And raising wheat and chickens on his family’s farm,” Will taunted. “How provincial.”

  “God, Will. There’s nothing wrong with that life.”

  “For a Ukrainian farmer. You, my fashionista sister, would have had a struggle living there.” He smiled. “Not that you ever considered it.”

  The fact was that she had considered it, dozens of times after leaving Kiev. When she had returned to the U.S. from the Ukraine, no one but Will heard about the weekend with Kostya in Cherkasy and Kiev. Will was the only one who knew what the key around her neck meant.

  “So, what does Scott think about this development in your life?” Will asked. Meredith knew he already knew the answer, and could almost hear him sassing her.

  “He doesn’t know yet,” Meredith answered, her eyebrow raised in warning. “Once he knows the situation, I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.”

  “Even the fact you slept with the guy…”

  “Five years ago, Will!”

  “And he was your first—”

  “Not your business!”

  “And you still wear that key around your neck,” Will pointed out. “Things like that tend to make current boyfriends crazy.”

  Meredith pursed her lips and glanced through the rectangular window set into the door that led into the offices. “Scott doesn’t know what the key means.” She defended herself. “He’ll just have to deal with it. No one would turn someone in this situation away. I mean, he’s seeking asylum from people who are trying to kill him.”

  “I don’t question the humanitarian aspects of your decision. But is that all this is? Is Kostya just an exercise in empathy?” Will smiled at her. “Anyway, there’s a lot to figure out and your feelings are just part of it.”

  “Thank you for doing this. It means a lot to me, but I’m sure to Kostya, too.” Meredith sat again next to her brother and laid her head on his shoulder. “This may be awkward.”

  “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll be here.”

  Just as they relaxed, the door cracked open and a tall man wearing a sweater over his button-up plaid shirt came in. “Miss St. Clair
e? Hello, I’m George Hannigan from U.S. Immigration.” He offered his hand in a firm handshake. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are here.”

  “This is my brother, Will St. Claire. He is an attorney and will be helping Kostya.”

  Hannigan shook hands with Will. “Kostya will need someone looking out for his interests here. He’s already stirred up quite a bit of attention.”

  “Oh?” Meredith asked. “Who is interested in Kostya?”

  “I wanted to warn you before we went back, anyway.” Hannigan sighed. “There are representatives from the Department of State, the Department of Defense, and the Department of Energy here as we speak. I am expecting Homeland Security to arrive any moment, and the Pentagon might want to have a say, as well.”

  “Jesus,” Will murmured. “What did Kostya get involved with?”

  “His story is quite extraordinary. I’m sure he’ll tell you all the details, but in a nutshell, he is the only person on Earth with the key to stop the launch of an SS-18 Intercontinental Ballistic Missile by rebels in the Ukraine.” Shuffling papers he offered a packet to Will. “This is a copy of the brief I sent to Homeland Security and to the CIA.”

  Will took the papers and immediately began skimming them for the most important details.

  “Where is he?” Meredith demanded. “Is he safe here?”

  “You’ll get to see him in just a moment. I wanted to give you a moment to process the scope of what is happening here.” He chuckled. “You know, when he said he knew Meredith St. Claire, I thought he was name dropping to get help. But you really know him?”

  “Yes, I do,” Meredith practically whispered. “Five years ago, he fixed my car on a lonely Ukrainian highway and made sure I was safe for the night.”

  “Well, I don’t think he realized who your father is. It will certainly work in his favor, in your favor, but I told him so he could be ready when he is asked questions about it.” Hannigan turned, opened, and held the door. Will, stunned with the amount of information he had been handed, looked up and followed Hannigan into the room. Meredith walked alongside.

  “Mer, I haven’t been in the courtroom for a while, but I’m taking this case,” Will whispered.

  Meredith’s eyes widened. “Is it that good or that bad?”

  “Depends. I think we stumbled upon one of the last true patriots of the twenty-first century.”

  As they walked down the hallway, Meredith realized she was about to see Kostya. A knot formed in her stomach, and her knees and hands began to shake. She hesitated outside the room, leaning against the wall to take a deep breath. Will, right next to her, offered his arm. “Are you okay, sis?”

  “You know he wasn’t just a passing acquaintance.” Meredith grimaced, standing up straight.

  Will put his arm around her and kissed her on the head. “Have you forgotten that I was the one who stayed with you after you returned from Kiev? I know exactly who he was.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Let’s just say we went through several boxes of tissues and more than a few pints of ice cream.”

  “I guess I’m lucky you were there.”

  “Yeah, well, I seem to be getting pretty good at it.” Will winked at her then took her arm and led her through the door where Hannigan waited for them. They passed several cubicles set up for interviews on both sides of the hallway, but at the end of the corridor was a large central conference room visible through windows that encircled it. Blinds were being lowered for privacy, and two dark, particleboard tables had been pushed together to accommodate this larger than average group.

  Growing up attending courts and Congress, Meredith had experienced entering rooms full of government testosterone before, but this was wholly intimidating. The room was filled with suits with power she could sense right away. The murmur of quiet talking filled the room as everyone mingled, waiting for the meeting to start. When she entered, one of the men stood—a tall, dark-haired Ukrainian with bright eyes and a square chin. From across the room she could feel it—the dizzy-delicious drop of excitement inside of her. Trying to stay calm, she fortified herself with a deep breath and crossed over to him, reaching up to his buzzed hair. “What have you done to your curls?” she whispered, so only he could hear.

  “They were sacrificed in my escape.” Kostya chuckled at her pout, causing crinkles to fold at his eyes—the eyes that had haunted her. “They’ll grow back, Meri.”

  “It’s been a long time, Kostya. I have missed you.” Her hand brushed his shoulder.

  “Too long, dushen’ka.” He used the nickname he called her when they met. His gaze followed hers. “It seems that I will be taking refuge in your house this time.” A recognizable spark passed between them, flustering Meredith.

  “Yes, um…Scott and I…” Her eyes dropped and she flushed in embarrassment. “We have a guest room where you’ll be comfortable for as long as you need to stay.”

  Kostya reached out and held the key on the delicate chain she had forgotten to slip back inside her shirt. “Scott, is he your husband?”

  “No. No, he is my boyfriend.” She grabbed his hands and pulled them away from her necklace, not ready for his judgement. “Scott works for my father in the Congressional offices.”

  “Your father must be proud,” Kostya said, lowering his hands and turning away politely as the room was called to order.

  Meredith felt her heart fall as he made his way back to his seat across from the suits and brass. Why did she bring up Scott before anything? Torn between the memories of their night in Kiev and her life now, Meredith cursed under her breath. Even if he didn’t realize Kostya was her first lover, Scott was never going to understand this situation. She found a seat on the side of the room, and Will excused himself to go sit by his new client.

  The impressive circle of participants sat behind nameplates identifying their departments. Hannigan, leading the meeting, was listed as “Director of Immigration and Naturalization Services.” Kostya had apparently been working with some big names in Washington already.

  As Hannigan prepared to start, Meredith saw her brother lean in to Kostya and shake his hand. Hannigan tested the small microphone clipped to his tie by tapping his finger on it. Satisfied, he began.

  “You all have received the brief that I sent about Kostya Dychenko, a Ukrainian citizen who arrived at Dulles airport yesterday. This meeting is to determine two things. First, what do we do with Mr. Dychenko, and second, what actions should the United States take in light of the intelligence that Mr. Dychenko has brought us of a probable terrorist attack.” Hannigan eyed the representatives sitting around the table. “I suppose I don’t need to remind everyone of the sensitive nature of these proceedings. Let’s keep a lid on this until we’re sure what stand, if any, the United States is going to take.”

  The group grunted and whispered assent, their curious looks studying Kostya.

  “Would you begin by introducing yourself, Kostya,” Mr. Hannigan prompted.

  Kostya nodded and cleared his voice. He introduced himself in clear, steady English and then described the events that had brought him to the United States. The seasoned defense background of those in attendance kept reactions subdued, but when Kostya described the components and his discovery of the silo, chatter broke out among the group.

  “You are referring to enabling a Soviet missile?” Homeland Security verified, addressing Kostya after whispering to his aide seated behind him. Kostya nodded.

  The hum of quiet discussion continued as the representatives skimmed through the briefs and studied the unpretentious man seated before them.

  “I’d like to know how we know Mr. Dychenko isn’t lying,” the representative from State chimed in. “What evidence, other than his word, has he brought to us?”

  “Kostya’s story is compelling, with or without hard evidence, but he has provided coordinates for four possible missile sites in the Cherkasy region of the Ukraine,” Hannigan said. “If NSA satellite pictures back up Kostya’s clai
ms, which they will in just a few hours, we’ll have concrete proof.” He nodded at the representative from the NSA. “In addition, he is a witness to the reconstruction of the components that make a missile launch possible, which will give us insight on what exactly we are facing.”

  “Being a witness is fine,” State said again, “but I need to see evidence of threat. Where is the evidence?” She flipped through the document again. “I hate to tell you, but finding a Cold War missile silo in the Ukraine isn’t news. What proof does Mr. Dychenko have that Fire of Dawn is seeking to resurrect a nuclear missile?”

  “Right here,” Kostya said calmly, lifting his backpack that was on the floor next to him. Tearing the seam into the earphone pocket at the top of his backpack, he brought out a small piece of plastic. “This is the chip to the fail-safe component. The algorithm programmed into this chip is the key that Fire of Dawn needs before they can successfully launch the missile.” He handed the chip to Hannigan. “And because I have it, my life, and the lives of my family, have been in danger.”

  “How do you know what the chip does?” Homeland Security said.

  “I know because I reverse engineered the components that are being used in the silo’s mission control. Once I realized their intent, I stole this chip to stop them.”

  The group became silent, individually weighing the puzzle before them.

  “So, in a way, you’re responsible for this mess.” The Pentagon Representative broke in. “You rebuilt the components. You turned them over to Fire of Dawn.”

  “That’s completely unfair,” Will called out. “Kostya is here to give us information to save his country and millions of lives. If he had bad intentions, we wouldn’t be here.”

  “I completely agree,” a tall man said, entering the room. “NSA satellites have just verified the location of the four missile silos, although only the one Kostya visited appears to have any activity.” The man went and stood behind Hannigan, facing the whole group.