Spencerville

Keith had had the opportunity to visit the prison basement of the Lubyanka, the former KGB headquarters in Moscow, which had become sort of a tourist attraction for selected former enemies of the defunct Soviet state, such as himself. The cells were gone, replaced by clerical space, but Keith had imagined being in the old cells, hearing the screams of tortured men and women, the names being called out, the echoing gunshot at the end of the corridor, where his guide explained how prisoners were shot in the back of the head as they walked.

The waiting room of the West Wing of the White House was quite different, of course — yogurt and world news on TV — but the sense of waiting for the government to call your name was the same. It didn't matter what they were calling your name for, it only mattered that you had to wait for it to be called.

Keith decided then and there that he didn't ever again want to wait for the government to call his name. They'd called his name twenty-five years before, and he'd answered the call. They called his name yesterday, and he answered the call. They'd call his name today, but today was different: Today was the last time he'd answer.

The door opened, and an appointments man said, "Colonel Landry, Mr. Adair, will you come with me, please?"

They stood and followed the young man to the elevator. They rode up to the lobby and followed the man to the Cabinet Room at the east end of the wing. The man knocked on the door, then opened it, and they were shown in by the appointments man. Inside, another man, whom Keith recognized as Ted Stansfield, came forward to greet them. Charlie said, "Ted, you remember Keith."

"Indeed I do." They shook hands, and Stansfield said, "Delighted you could come."

"Delighted to be invited."

"Come, have a seat." He indicated two chairs at the long dark wooden table where the Cabinet met.

The Cabinet Room, Keith knew, was used for all types of meetings, large or small, when the Cabinet was not meeting. In fact, it was a tightly scheduled conference room, used by various people to impress and/or to intimidate. Colonel Keith Landry might have once been impressed, but never intimidated. Now he was slightly bored and restless.

He looked at Stansfield, a man of about forty, polished and smooth, a man who was truly delighted, mostly with himself.

Stansfield informed them, "The secretary is running a bit late." He said to Keith, "Your old boss, General Watkins, will also join us, as will Colonel Chandler, who is the current aide to the national security advisor."

"And will Mr. Yadzinski also join us?" Keith inquired, using the name of the national security advisor, though in official Washington, the very highest people were referred to by their title, such as "the president," "the secretary of defense," and so forth, as if these people had been transformed from mortals into deities, as in, "The God of War will join us shortly." Then again, the very lowest-ranking people were also referred to by their title, such as "the janitor."

Ted Stansfield replied, "The security advisor will try to join us if he can."

"They're all running a bit late?"

"Well, yes, I suppose they are. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

The three men waited, making small talk as was customary so as not to touch upon anything that would require someone saying something like, "Before you arrived, sir, Mr. Landry and I discussed that, and he informed me," and so forth.

Stansfield inquired, "So, did you enjoy your brief retirement?" Rather than correct the man's use of the past tense and queer the whole charade for Charlie, Keith replied, "I did."

"How were you spending your time?"

"I went back to my hometown and looked up my old girlfriend."

Stansfield smiled. "Did you? And did you rekindle the old flame?"

"Yes, we did."

"Well, that's very interesting, Keith. Do you have any plans?"

"We do. In fact, I'm bringing her to Washington tomorrow."

"How delightful. Why didn't you bring her with you today?"

"Her husband won't be out of town until tomorrow."

Keith felt Charlie kick his foot at the same time Stansfield's idiotic smile dropped. Keith informed Ted Stansfield, "Charlie said it wouldn't be a problem."

"Well... I suppose it..."

Charlie interjected, "The lady in question is in the process of a divorce."

"Ah."

Keith let it go.

The door opened, and in walked General Watkins in mufti, and another man in mufti whom Keith recognized as Colonel Chandler, though they'd rarely had occasion to speak.

Charlie stood, as did Ted Stansfield, though as civilians, they didn't have to. Keith wasn't certain he had to either, but he did, and they shook hands. General Watkins said, "You look good, Keith. The rest did you good. Ready to get back in the saddle?"

"It was a nasty fall, General."

"All the more reason to climb on that horse again."