The Oracle Code - By Charles Brokaw Page 0,109

be safe either. They know you and I are involved.”

“I will be fine. I am protected.”

“Except that Captain Fitrat is here.”

“That way I know that you are protected. As much as you can be. What bothers me most is that I cannot be there with you.”

“Don’t try to come. It’s too dangerous.”

“I will not. I cannot. I have too much going on here. I am being buried by the work I have to do. And I feel so badly that I cannot be there with you.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.” Lourds hoped he wasn’t lying through his teeth, and he grieved terribly for Anna.

***

General Anton Cherkshan Residence

Patriarshiye Ponds

Moscow, Russian Federation

February 21, 2013

One short flight from Kiev to Moscow and the drive from the airport, two hours and twenty-three minutes after hearing about his daughter’s death, Cherkshan stood in front of the door to his house. He hesitated there, standing in the white, swirling snow gathered on his stoop. He wanted to go in, but it hurt him to think of what he was going to find.

Katrina had called once, to make sure that he had heard about Anna, and to verify that what she had heard on the Internet news was true. Then she had broken down crying and hung up the phone.

Cherkshan had tried to call his wife back, but it had been useless. She had not accepted his calls. He had known she would accept nothing less than him being there. He had sent men, but she had turned them away.

Nevsky had accepted Cherkshan’s call, proffered condolences, and grudgingly allowed his general’s flight home to be with his grieving wife. Through all of that, Cherkshan had gotten the opinion that Nevsky would hold this abandonment of his post in Kiev against him.

He didn’t know how he felt about that.

Before he could decide what to do, the door opened, and there stood Katrina. She looked as hard and as cold as the Russian winter, and he knew that a part of her blamed him for their daughter’s death, even though she did not mean to.

“You should come in. You are going to freeze.”

Cherkshan nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. He kicked the snow off his boots and walked into the house.

“Come into the kitchen. I have fixed you some dinner. I knew you would not eat.”

Cherkshan did not feel like eating. He wanted to hold his wife, but he knew she would not allow that. Not yet. Not until she had off of her mind whatever she was holding back.

So he went into the kitchen and sat at the table. She brought food and put it before him. Like a machine, he ate. When he finished, Katrina took the dishes, washed them, and put them away.

He looked at her. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Can you bring back my daughter? Can you bring back my Anna?”

He shook his head, having no words to give her.

She left him, going back to the bedroom, and he knew not to follow. Instead, he went to his study and he waited. At this point there was nothing for him to do.

Three hours later, he got a phone call from Emil, who also expressed his condolences.

“Thank you.”

Emil hesitated. “I have a Greek policeman on the line, General. He says that it is important to talk to you.”

“Put him through.”

There was a series of clicks, and Cherkshan knew he and the policeman were not alone on the line.

“General Cherkshan, I am told you speak English.”

“I do.”

“Good, because I speak no Russian.”

“And I speak no Greek.”

“I have some questions about your daughter.”

Cherkshan thought for a moment, then realized that whoever was listening in on his phone call would already know about Anna. They would know more, in fact, than he did.

“All right.”

“I am Hermes Asimakopoulos, a police detective. I am afraid I am calling with some bad news about your daughter.”

“You are too late, Detective. I have already heard the news.”

“I am sorry for your loss, General. But there are some questions I must ask.”

“Proceed.”

“When was the last time you saw your daughter?”

Cherkshan felt angry, and it almost got the better of him. “Do not waste your time or mine. Get to the important questions.”

“What would those be?”

“What killed my daughter?”

“Why do you think something killed your daughter?”

“Because a police detective would not call me otherwise. The embassy people would handle this.”

“You’re right, General. My apologies. Your daughter died from radiation poisoning. It was all through her system. Due to the nature

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