Someone Else's War: A Novel of Russia and America
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Dmitri Borisovich Suslov had eaten little for four days, and had drunk perhaps far too much. He had not shaved for the last two of those days, nor had he turned on the radio. He’d let the silence immure him until he was convinced that he’d been buried alive, though still above ground. He paced from time to time, and from time to time he touched his pistol. The phone rang. He swallowed hard enough to force his heart back down into his chest, then picked up the receiver.
“Suslov.”
“Trimenko. I hope you are well. My aide has not heard from you regarding your needs.”
“My only need is to get out of this place. What can you tell me?”
“I can tell you that your violation of my orders has had some effect.”
“I violated no orders.”
“Of course not. Colonel Cooper decided on his own to approach Rebecca Taylor, whose articles in the Washington Post have had the desired impact.”
“You ordered me to do or say nothing after I left the building. I spoke with Colonel Cooper in the corridor. I complied exactingly. I am therefore am guilty of no insubordination.”
“And I am President Clinton’s next girlfriend.”
“How did you find out about Colonel Cooper?”
“Your sister told me. Much has happened over the last few days.”
“How is Ira?”
“She has ordered me to keep you alive because, when I’m finished with you, she wants a turn.”
“I don’t blame her.” Then he asked the question he feared. “And…Olivia?”
“At the moment, she and Madame Getmanova are sitting in the Lubyanka together.”
“What?”
“They’re knitting in one of the senior lounges and discussing wedding dresses. Or so General Schwartz tells me. Do you require any additional details?”
“…Yes…” he said, very shakily.
“Natasha is unharmed.”
“Natasha?”
“I mean, Olivia. For a while, she was calling herself Natasha.”
“Can you explain?”
“No, I cannot. Apparently, it’s an American thing. She is well and unharmed, but rather shaken. Which is all to the good. There will be a meeting at the Kremlin this evening to settle things. We will know in the morning.”
“I see. Am I still under house arrest?”
“Absolutely. You will be released tomorrow in all probability. But not before. I will call you personally. Please be available.”
“Where the fuck would I go?”
“One never knows, General. Do stay warm.”
Trimenko hung up and allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. In all probability, the lovers would be reunited and there would be a wedding. Ah, he thought. A happy ending in Russia, for once. Who knew?