Vanya thought about it for a few moments. “I’d be dead twice over if it weren’t for Mr. Klein. I will see this through. No matter how it ends.”

“Eric?”

His normally broad grin faltered. “I knew this was a shitty job when I signed on, Randi, but that thing Wilson built is a grave digger and you know it. We’re going to die in that tunnel and no one’s ever even going to know. No parades or newspaper articles or statues at the academy. Just a cozy hole in the side of a Japanese mountain and a few friends to share it with.”

“So you’re out.”

He shook his head. “Karen says she won’t leave. And since she’s the only family I have, I figure we might as well die together.”

53

53

Oval Office
Washington, DC
USA

When Castilla entered the Oval Office, General Keith Morrison, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, leaped to attention. The president noted that he looked a little dazed and hoped it was just the fact that he probably hadn’t slept for days.

Castilla offered his hand and nodded toward the thick dossier the soldier was holding. “Are you bringing me good news, Keith?”

Morrison’s expression turned from dazed to a bit ill.

“Sit,” Castilla said, pointing to the sofa. “Please.”

Three days ago, he’d personally handed the general a full account of his meeting with Takahashi, Covert-One’s analysis of that meeting, and everything Greg Maple had come up with on Hideki Ito’s weapon. His orders had been for Morrison to very quietly double-check and flesh out the analyses. No one beyond a few select experts was to be told—not the secretary of defense, not the CIA, and sure as hell not the NSA. At this point, secrecy was paramount, and with the exception of Fred Klein, Morrison was the only person he felt he could trust. Not only was the man an honest-to-God war hero, but he also had a master’s from Harvard and seemed physically incapable of not following the orders of his commander in chief. Perhaps even more important, he had known Masao Takahashi for over twenty years.

Morrison started to open the folder in his hand but then seemed to lose strength. Finally, he just laid it on the table between them. “May I ask where you got the analysis you gave me, sir?”

“No,” Castilla responded simply.

The soldier nodded. “Well, it was a hell of a job. I wish whoever did it worked for me.”

The president had had plenty of time to prepare for this meeting so he was able to keep his expression impassive. He’d hoped that Morrison was here to tell him that Klein and Takahashi were completely full of shit, but the truth was that neither man ever had been before.