The Eleventh Commandment Read online

  ‘Mr Speaker, Mr Vice-President and Mr Chief Justice,’ Zerimski began. ‘Let me begin by thanking you and your countrymen for the kind welcome and generous hospitality I have received on this, my first, visit to the United States. Let me assure you that I look forward to returning again and again.’ At this point Titov had written ‘PAUSE’ in the margin - rightly, because there followed a round of applause.

  Zerimski then delivered several flattering homilies concerning America’s historic achievements, reminding his listeners that three times in the past century their two nations had fought together against a common enemy. He went on to describe ‘the excellent relationship currently enjoyed by our two countries’. Tom Lawrence, who was watching the speech with Andy Lloyd on C-SPAN in the Oval Office, began to relax a little. After another few minutes, he even allowed a flicker of a smile to cross his lips.

  That smile was wiped off his face as Zerimski delivered the next seventy-one words of his speech.

  ‘I am the last person on earth who would want our two great nations to become embroiled in another pointless war.’ Zerimski paused. ‘Especially if we were not on the same side.’ He looked up and beamed at the assembled gathering, although nobody present appeared to find his comment particularly funny. ‘To be sure that such a calamity can never befall us again, it will be necessary for Russia to remain as powerful as the United States on the battlefield if it is to carry the same weight at the conference table.’

  In the Oval Office, Lawrence watched as the television cameras scanned the sullen faces of the members of both Houses, and knew that it had taken Zerimski about forty seconds to destroy any chance of his Arms Reduction Bill becoming law.

  The rest of Zerimski’s speech was received in silence. When he stepped down from the podium there were no outstretched hands, and the applause was distinctly cool.

  As the white BMW drove up Wisconsin Avenue, Connor switched off the radio. When they reached the gates of the Russian Embassy, one of Romanov’s henchmen checked them through security.

  Connor was escorted into the white marble reception area for the second time in three days. He could immediately see what Romanov had meant when he said the Embassy’s internal security was lax. After all, who would want to murder Russia’s beloved President in his own Embassy?’ he had remarked with a smile.

  As they walked down a long corridor, Connor said to Romanov, ‘You seem to have the run of the building.’

  ‘So would you have, if you’d paid enough into the Ambassador’s Swiss bank account to ensure that he never had to return to the motherland again.’

  Romanov continued to treat the Embassy as if it were his own home, even unlocking the door to the Ambassador’s study and letting himself in. As they entered the ornately furnished room, Connor was surprised to see a customised Remington 700 resting on the Ambassador’s desk. He picked it up and studied it closely. He would have asked Romanov how he’d got his hands on it, if he thought there was any chance of being told the truth.

  Connor gripped the stock and broke the breech. There was a single boat-tailed bullet in the chamber. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Romanov.

  ‘I assume that from that range you will only need one bullet,’ said the Russian. He led Connor to the far corner of the room, and drew back a curtain to reveal the Ambassador’s private lift. They stepped inside, pulled the gate shut and travelled slowly up to the gallery above the ballroom on the second floor.

  Connor checked every inch of the gallery several times, then squeezed in behind the vast statue of Lenin. He looked through its cocked arm to check the sightline to the spot from which Zerimski would deliver his farewell speech, making sure that he would be able to see without being seen. He was thinking how easy it all seemed when Romanov touched him on the arm and ushered him back towards the lift.

  ‘You will have to arrive several hours early, and work with the catering staff before the banquet begins,’ Romanov said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We don’t want anyone to become suspicious when you disappear just before Zerimski begins his speech.’

  Romanov checked his watch. ‘We should go. Zerimski is due back in a few minutes.’

  Connor nodded, and they walked towards the rear entrance. As he climbed back into the BMW, he said, ‘I’ll let you know when I’ve decided which venue I’ve chosen.’

  Romanov looked surprised, but said nothing.

  Connor was driven out through the Embassy gates minutes before Zerimski was due to return from the Capitol. He switched the radio on in time to catch the early-evening news: ‘Senators and Congressmen were falling over each other to grab the microphones and assure their constituents that after hearing President Zerimski’s speech, they would not be voting for the Nuclear, Biological, Chemical and Conventional Arms Reduction Bill.’

  In the Oval Office, Tom Lawrence was watching CNN’s reporter speaking from the Senate press gallery: ‘No statement has yet come from the White House,’ he was saying, ‘and the President …’

  ‘And don’t hang around waiting for one,’ Lawrence said angrily as he switched off the television. He turned to his Chief of Staff. ‘Andy, I’m not even sure I can face sitting next to that man for four hours tomorrow afternoon, let alone respond to his farewell speech in the evening.’

  Lloyd didn’t comment.

  ‘I am looking forward to sitting next to my dear friend Tom and watching him have to squirm in front of an audience of millions,’ said Zerimski as his limousine entered the grounds of the Russian Embassy. Dmitri Titov remained impassive.

  ‘I think I shall cheer for the Redskins. It would be an added bonus if Lawrence’s team lost,’ Zerimski smirked. ‘A fitting prelude to the humiliation I have planned for him in the evening. Make sure you prepare a speech so flattering that it will appear all the more tragic in retrospect.’ He smiled again. ‘I have ordered the beef to be served cold. And even you will be surprised by what I have in mind for dessert.’

  Connor spent several hours that evening wondering if he could risk breaking the rule of a lifetime. He phoned Romanov a few minutes after midnight.

  The Russian seemed delighted that they had both come to the same conclusion. ‘I’ll arrange for a driver to pick you up at three thirty so you can be at the Embassy by four.’

  Connor put the phone down. If everything went to plan, the President would be dead by four.

  Wake him up.’

  ‘But it’s four o’clock in the morning,’ said the First Secretary.

  ‘If you value your life, wake him up.’

  The First Secretary threw on a dressing gown, ran out of his bedroom and down the corridor. He knocked on the door. There was no response, so he knocked again. A few moments later, a light appeared under the door.

  ‘Come in,’ said a sleepy voice. The First Secretary turned the handle and entered the Ambassador’s bedroom.

  ‘I am sorry to disturb you, Your Excellency, but there’s a Mr Stefan Ivanitsky on the line from St Petersburg. He insists that we wake the President. He says he has an urgent message for him.’

  ‘I’ll take the call in my study,’ said Pietrovski. He threw back the blanket, ignoring the groans of his wife, ran downstairs and told the night porter to transfer the call to his study.

  The phone rang several times before it was eventually picked up by a slightly breathless Ambassador. ‘Pietrovski speaking.’

  ‘Good morning, Your Excellency,’ said Ivanitsky. ‘I asked to be put through to the President, not to you.’

  ‘But it’s four o’clock in the morning. Can’t it wait?’

  ‘Ambassador, I don’t pay you to tell me the time. The next voice I want to hear is the President’s. Do I make myself clear?’

  The Ambassador put the receiver down on his desk and walked slowly back up the wide staircase to the first floor, trying to decide which of the two men he was more frightened of. He stood outside the door of the President’s suite for some time, but the sight of the First Secretary hoveri