So went the story.
Lila asked, 'Are you listening?'
I nodded. 'The Superior Service Medal would have fit the bill. Or the Legion of Merit, or the Soldier's Medal.'
'Not big enough:
'Thanks. I won all three.'
'Capturing the VAL was a really big coup. A sensation. It was a completely unknown weapon. Its acquisition would have been rewarded with a really big medal.'
'But which one?'
'My mother concluded it would be the Distinguished Service Medal. That one is big, but different The applicable standard is exceptionally meritorious service to the United States Government in a duty of great responsibility. It is completely independent of formal declared combat activities. It is normally awarded to politically pliable Brigadier Generals and above. My mother was under orders to execute all holders of the DSM immediately. Below the rank of Brigadier General it is awarded only very rarely. But it's the only significant medal a Delta captain could have won that night in the Korengal Valley.'
I nodded. I agreed. I figured Svetlana Hoth was a pretty good analyst. Clearly she had been well trained, and well informed. The KGB had done a decent job. I said, 'So you went looking for a guy called John who had been a Delta captain and won a DSM, both in March of 1983.'
Lila nodded. 'And to be certain, the DSM had to come without a citation.'
'And you made Susan Mark help.'
'I didn't make her. She was happy to help.'
'Why?'
'Because she was upset by my mother's story.'
Svetlana Hoth smiled and nodded.
Lila said, 'And she was a little upset by my story, too. I'm a fatherless child, the same as her.'
I asked, 'How did John Sansom's name come up even before Susan reported back? I don't believe that it was from a bunch of New York private eyes sitting around reading the newspaper and making jokes.'
'It's a very rare combination,' Lila said. 'John, Delta, DSM, but never a one-star general. We noticed it in the Herald Tribune, when his Senate ambitions were announced. We were in London. You can buy that paper all over the world. It's a version of the New York Times. John Sansom might well be the only man in your army's history who matches those criteria four for four. But we wanted to be absolutely sure. We needed final confirmation.'
'Before what? What do you want to do to the guy?'
Lila Hoth looked surprised.
'Do?' she said. 'We don't want to do anything. We just want to talk to him, that's all. We want to ask him, why? Why would he do that, to two other human beings?'
THIRTY-EIGHT
LILA HOTH FINISHED HER TEA, AND PUT HER CUP DOWN ON her saucer. Bone china clinked politely on bone china. She asked, 'Will you go get Susan's information for me?'
I didn't answer.
She said, 'My mother has waited a long time.'
I asked, 'Why has she?'
'Time, chance, means, opportunity. Money, mostly, I suppose. Her horizons have been very narrow, until recently.'
I asked, 'Why was your husband killed?'
'My husband?'
'Back in Moscow.'
Lila paused, and said, 'It was the times.'
'Same for your mother's husband.'
'No. I told you, if Sansom had shot him in the head, like what happened to my husband, or stabbed him in the brain, or broken his neck or whatever else Delta soldiers were taught to do, it would have been different. But he didn't. He was cruel instead. Inhuman. My father couldn't even roll to his rifle, because they had stolen his rifle.'
I said nothing.
She said, 'You want a man like that in your Senate?'
'As opposed to what?'
'Will you give me Susan's confirmation?'
'No point,' I said.
'Why not?'
'Because you wouldn't get anywhere near John Sansom. If any of what you say actually happened, then it's a secret, and it's going to stay a secret for a very long time. And secrets are protected, especially now. There are already two federal agencies at work on this. You just had three guys asking questions. At best, you'll be deported. Your feet won't touch the ground, all the way back to the airport. They'll put you on the plane in handcuffs. In coach. The Brits will pull you off the plane at the other end and you'll spend the rest of your life under surveillance.'
Svetlana Hoth stared into space.
I said, 'And at worst, you'll just disappear. Right here. One minute you'll be on the street, and then you won't be. You'll be rotting in Guantanamo, or you'll be on your way to Syria or Egypt so they can kill you there.'
Lila Hoth didn't speak.
'My advice?' I said. 'Forget all about it. Your father and your uncle were killed in a war. They weren't the first, and they won't be the last. Shit happens.'
'We just want to ask him why.'
'You already know why. There had been no declaration of hostilities, therefore he couldn't kill your guys. It's about the rules of engagement. There's a heavy-duty briefing before every mission.'
'So he let someone else do it for him.'
'It was the times. Like you said, it might have started World War Three. It was in everyone's interest to avoid that.'
'Have you looked at the file? Did Susan really have the confirmation? Just tell me, yes or no. I won't do anything without actually seeing it. I can't.'
'You won't do anything, period.'
'It wasn't right.'
'Invading Afghanistan in the first place wasn't right. You should have stayed home.'
'Then so should you, from all the places you went.'
'No argument from me.'
'What about freedom of information?'
'What about it?'
'America is a country of laws.'
'True. But do you know what the laws actually say now? You should read the Herald Tribune more carefully.'
'Are you going to help us?'
'I'll ask the concierge to call you a cab to the airport.'
'Is that all?'
'That's the best help anyone could give you.'
'Is there anything I can do to change your mind?'
I didn't answer.
'Anything at all?'
'No,' I said.
We all went quiet after that. The tea expert brought the check.
It was in a padded leather wallet. Lila Roth signed it. She said, 'Sansom should be called to account.'
'If it was him,' I said. 'If it was anybody.' I took Leonid's phone out of my pocket and dumped it on the table. I pushed my chair back and got ready to leave.
Lila said, 'Please keep the phone.'
I said, 'Why?'
'Because my mother and I are staying. Just a few more days. And I would really like to be able to call you, if I wanted to.' She wasn't coy in the way she said it. Not coquettish. No lowered eyelids, no batted lashes. No hand on my arm, no attempt to seduce, no attempt to change my mind. It was just a plain statement, neutrally delivered.
Then she said, 'Even if you're not a friend,' and I heard the tiniest bat-squeak of a threat in her voice. Just a faint far-off chime of menace, a hint of danger, barely audible behind the words, accompanied by a perceptible chill in her amazing blue eyes. Like a warm summer sea changing to sunlit winter ice. Same colour, different temperature.
Or maybe she was just sad, or anxious, or determined.
I looked at her with a level gaze and put the phone back in my pocket and stood up and walked away. There were plenty of cabs on 57th Street, but none of them was empty. So I walked. The Sheraton was three blocks west and five blocks south. Twenty minutes, max. I figured I could get there before Sansom finished his lunch.
THIRTY-NINE
I DIDN'T GET TO THE SHERATON BEFORE SANSOM FINISHED HIS lunch, partly because the sidewalks were clogged with people moving slowly in the heat, and partly because it had been a short lunch. Which I guessed made sense. Sansom's Wall Street audience wanted to spend maximum time making money and minimum time giving it away. I didn't make it on to the same Amtrak as him, either. I missed a D.C. train by five minutes, which meant I trailed him back to the capital a whole hour and a half in arrears.