Revolution

Voda also realized that the gas crisis was having a serious effect on Western Europe and NATO. If he did not preserve the pipeline, his chances of having Romania join the alliance would probably be crushed.

His hopes of joining NATO led Voda to resist Locusta and others when they suggested sending troops across the border in Moldova to battle the rebel strongholds. But the events of the past week—the attack on the pipeline and the vicious, cold-blooded killing of the family near Tutova—demonstrated that he must take decisive action. More important, the Americans were signaling that they not only approved, but would assist, albeit in a very limited way.

“You are far away,” said his wife, Mircea, sitting next to him in the back of the sedan as they drove from Bucharest.

“Are you already in the mountains? Or listening to music in your head?”

Voda smiled at her. He hadn’t told her about Locusta’s call or the real reason for his spur of the moment vacation weekend, though he thought she might have some suspicions.

“Music,” he replied.

“Mozart?”

“A combination of different things.”

He had met Mircea after being released from prison the first time. She’d been a dissident and had an excellent ear for politics, but not for music.

Mircea gave him a playful tap.

“When you see Julian, then your attention will be with us,” she said, referring to their eight-year-old son, who was to meet them at their mountain home near Stulpicani with his na

REVOLUTION

269

“Both.” Voda smiled, then looked out the car window, admiring the countryside.

Dochia, Romania

0905

“YOU CAN PUT THE GUN AWAY,” DANNY TOLD THE SHADOW

in the hallway behind the open door. “I’m Da

“Let me see your hands,” a woman replied.

Da

Looking for you?”

“Keep the hands where I can see them.”

“Usually we say please.” Da

The shadow took a step forward, and the woman’s features became more distinct. She was about five-six, not much more than 110 pounds. Dark hair, green eyes, hard expression.

“Like I said, we have less than a half hour. And we have some driving to do.”

Sorina Viorica took another step forward. The pistol in her hand was aimed squarely at his face.

“Where’s your gun?” she asked.

“I don’t have any.”

“I don’t believe you. Unzip your coat.”

Da

“Turn around,” she told him.

Da

She patted him down quickly. A light touch—she had done it before.

270

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

“Why aren’t you armed?” she asked, stepping back.

“Because I thought it would be u

“All right. Let’s go.”

“Don’t you have a bag?”

“I have everything I need.”

Da

“Do you have a cig?” she asked.

“Cigarette?”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

She frowned, looked out the window.

“I haven’t smoked in years,” she said. “But today I feel like it.”

“You want to know the itinerary?”

“Mark explained it.”

“I’ll be with you until I hear from them. Myself and another one of my men.”

She shrugged. Da

She turned suddenly, caught him looking at her.

“Have you ever left your home?” she asked. She sounded as if she were accusing him of a crime.

“All the time,” said Da

“And known you were not coming back?”

“No.”

“It’s different.”

“I’d guess it would be.”

She frowned, as if that wasn’t the answer she wanted, then turned back toward the window.

It started to snow a few minutes before they got to the field Da

271

chips scattering across the road. Though sparse, they were thick and heavy, slow to melt; as they landed on the windshield of the car they made large ovals, giving way slowly to the heat of the glass.

“An aircraft called an Osprey is coming for us,” Da

Sorina said nothing.

“I’m just telling you because it can look pretty fierce when you first see it. It’s black.”

“I’ve seen things much fiercer than helicopters, Captain.”

“You can call me Da

She didn’t answer.

Da

“The weather is my future,” said Sorina. And then she continued speaking to herself in Romanian.

Da

Most likely, he thought, it had to do with money. Yet her austere air and simple clothes seemed to indicate a person not moved by material possessions.

Revenge? Perhaps. Or maybe she’d traded her life. But she moved like a person already dead, a wary ghost waiting for her ride to oblivion.

He heard the heavy whomp of the aircraft’s rotors in the distance.

“They’re coming,” he said.

272

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

Sorina stared toward the glow of the church, opposite the direction of the Osprey as the plane came in. Just as he turned to start for the rear ramp, Da

Presidential villa,

near Stulpicani, Romania

1300

GENERAL LOCUSTA STUDIED THE LAWN AND SURROUNDING

property of President Voda’s mountain retreat. It had been quite some time since it was farmed, and Locusta guessed it had never been very profitable. The property rose sharply behind the house and fell off across the road in front of it; there were large rock formations, and tilling the fields had to be difficult. With the exception of the front lawn, trees had long ago taken over whatever had been cultivated.

The driver stopped in front of the house. Locusta got out, taking his briefcase with him. A man in a heavy overcoat watched him from the front steps. He was a bodyguard, though his weapon was concealed under his coat. In accordance with Voda’s wishes, only the president’s personal security team was stationed at the house. Locusta had a company of men a half mile down the road, ready to respond in an emergency.

Or not, as the case might be.

“The president is waiting in the den,” said Paul Sergi, meeting the general outside the door of the house.

“Very good,” said Locusta, ignoring the aide’s arrogant tone. Sergi, Voda’s chief assistant and secretary, had never gotten along with anyone in the military.