Duel of Assassins by Dan Pollock Read Free Book Online

didn’t know that,” Ackerman said. “Congratulations. We’re
all admirers of Charlotte. She’s the one, I take it?”
    “If she forgives me for disappearing tonight without telling
her. She’s got a temper.”
    Buck Jones grinned. “Maybe Scotty can write you an excuse.”
    “That won’t help—if I accept your assignment. Then it’s all
over between us. I promised Charlotte I’d turn in my cloak and dagger, as she
says. My current CIA assignment will finish early this summer. Starting next
fall I’ve accepted a post in Soviet studies with the Chalmers Institute.”
    “Is that what you really want to do?” Jones asked. “Retire
to a think tank, at your age?”
    “I’m thirty-four. Time to slow down, I think. But, okay,
maybe it’s more what she wants. It is, for her, a necessary condition of our
marriage.”
    “A forceful lady,” Ackerman said. “And after all, I’m only
the President.”
     “She wishes children, Mr. President, and a husband who
doesn’t carry a gun and disappear from time to time. And at her age—I’m being
indiscreet, and I must apologize—there’s a certain urgency in these matters.”
    Ackerman nodded. “The ticking clock, yes, I think we all
know what you’re up against.” He looked around. “Anybody have any brilliant
ideas for reassuring Charlie?”
    “Wait. There is one last reason.”
    “By all means.”
    “The last reason is also the first one I gave you. I am not
an assassin.”
    “Hold on, Taras,” Buck Jones said. “I thought we pretty much
defused that one. This is just semantics. Why not just call it ‘chief of
security’?”
    “But that is not a very accurate job description, Mr. Jones.
You told me the KGB wants me to hunt Marcus down, to ‘assassinate the
assassin.’ Is that not so?”
    Jones hesitated. Ackerman spoke: “Answer him, Buck.”
    “Okay, yes. Hell, I should have paraphrased, but those were
the words they chose. They’d like you to stop him—before he gets to Rybkin.
This Marcus is a killer, you said so. But if you do find him, if it’s a matter
of conscience, I’m sure you can detail some of their people to pull the
trigger.”
    Arensky shook his head. “Practically speaking, Mr. Jones, I
don’t think Marcus Jolly can do this thing, nor do I think I can stop him from
doing it. The odds are against on both counts. But that is beside the point.
The point is, whatever Marcus may have done, or may have become, he was for
many years my closest friend. And I do not wish to be appointed his
executioner, no matter the cause.”
    After a moment the President turned to Dr. Ledbetter. “Gene,
what was their other inducement?”
    “Immediate exit visas for Taras’ sister, her husband and
children.” Ledbetter turned to Arensky. “If you agree, no matter the outcome,
they will all be heading west.”
    Taras swore violently. His sister Luiza, her husband and
their two little boys had been petitioning to emigrate for years. And year
after year Taras had been filing State Department “Invitation for Relatives”
forms on their behalf. All to no avail.
    “I’m sorry, I don’t believe these fucking promises.”
    “They’ll be put on a plane—in the custody of our embassy
people—before you take off for Moscow.”
    “Bastards!” Taras pounded his fist into his open palm.
“Excuse me, Mr. President. May I stand up?”
    “Christ, yes. Pace the floor, swear all you like. God knows,
I do. Would you like a drink?”
    “No, thank you.” Taras stood. Walked to the French doors.
Stared out through the colonnade at the lighted Rose Garden. The President’s
voice came from behind him.
    “Taras, I understand your reluctance to accede to any kind
of blackmail from the Kremlin. So let me offer you an alternative reason.
You’re now a U.S. citizen. As your President, I’m asking you to take this
assignment. Consider it in that light, in any case.”
    Taras did not react. He was seeing faces out there in the
night. Faces of people he