The Secret of Secrets: A Novel (Robert Langdon Book 6) - 127
In a modest apartment in the Dejvice district, Dana Daněk sat alone on her couch watching television news. The U.S. military had now taken full responsibility for the Folimanka explosion, which had been caused apparently by a vast store of natural gas that the engineers had brought in to heat and cu...
In a modest apartment in the Dejvice district, Dana Daněk sat alone on her couch watching television news. The U.S. military had now taken full responsibility for the Folimanka explosion, which had been caused apparently by a vast store of natural gas that the engineers had brought in to heat and cure the fresh concrete they were pouring. According to numerous outside construction specialists, this technique was very common, especially in damp underground spaces in winter, and this was not the first such accident.
Even so, political pundits were starting to question the story. Nonetheless, whatever had caused the blast, the U.S. military was already sealing the area and preparing for a massive cleanup operation.
“Ms. Daněk?” a man called from the hallway after knocking on her door. “It’s Sergeant Kerble.”
Surprised, she walked over and looked through her peephole. Sure enough, it was the ambassador’s lead security detail. Am I in trouble? No Marine security guard had ever visited her home. Dana was wearing a sweatshirt, glasses, and no makeup, and she wondered if Sergeant Kerble would even recognize her.
When she opened the door, the baby-faced Marine was standing a polite distance away. “Ms. Daněk,” he said, “I’m sorry to bother you at home. The ambassador asked me to convey once again her deep personal sadness over the passing of Attaché Harris. The entire embassy is shaken, of course, but Madam Ambassador said you two were very good friends.”
“Thank you, Scott.”
“I also should mention that the ambassador’s arrest was a misunderstanding, and she has been released with a full apology.”
“She may regret it,” Dana said, motioning to the television behind her. “She’s going to have her hands full with this. Your government is already taking heat.”
“Yes, this entire situation is a bit…”
“Fucked?” Dana offered.
Kerble smiled. “I was going to say ‘politically nuanced.’ ”
“Then you should take over my post in PR.”
“Actually,” he said, “that’s why I’m here. The ambassador very much hopes you’ll come back and work PR on this crisis.”
Dana laughed out loud. “Scott, do you know what happened to me today?! A woman pointed a gun in my face, my boyfriend was strangled to death, the U.S. ambassador was arrested in front of me, I was escorted off embassy grounds, and Folimanka Park exploded! Am I missing anything?!”
Kerble sighed. “I’m sorry, Dana, I admit today has been…”
“Politically nuanced?”
“I was going to say ‘fucked.’ ”
Dana managed a smile. “So what the hell is going on?”
“I don’t have all the facts. You should ask the ambassador tomorrow when you return to work.”
“That’s your pitch?”
“I’ve never been a good salesman. Would you please just think about it?”
“I will. Have a good night.”
Dana began to close the door, but Kerble stepped closer. “Actually, I was wondering if I might have a look in that cardboard box.” He pointed past her into the living room at her box of personal items from her office. “I think there may be a diplomatic pouch in there that belongs to the ambassador. I’m afraid I may have dropped it in your box by mistake. May I come in?”
Dana had endured more than her fair share of lousy pickup schemes, and had she not held Sergeant Kerble in such high regard, she would have guessed this was another. Still, she motioned for him to wait in the doorway. “I’ll look for you.”
Dana walked over and dug through the box, astonished to encounter a sealed diplomatic pouch addressed to Ambassador Heide Nagel. The pouch had a sticky note affixed:
D— Tell no one about this. Someone will contact you.
Dana spun to him in shock. “What the hell is this?! And what’s it doing in my box?!”
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I put it there. And now I need it back.”
At the U.S. embassy, Heide Nagel sat alone in her office and stared into her now-empty tumbler of Becherovka. She seldom drank hard liquor, and never two cocktails in one day.
If not today, when?
She and the director had arrived at an agreement—a détente of sorts—but even so, Nagel was not about to relinquish her leverage and trust him blindly. I still have the USB of the video.
Kerble had gone to recover it from Dana, and from the sound of footsteps now climbing her marble stairs, Kerble had returned…except the face that appeared in the doorway was not his. It belonged to one of the embassy’s newer Marine guards.
“Ma’am?” the young man said, looking uneasy. “I’m sorry, but we have a situation at the front door that requires your attention.”
“No more situations today,” she said. “Please just have your team handle it.”
“We’re not officially qualified, ma’am. It’s a diplomatic matter.”
Nagel’s head felt foggy. A diplomatic matter…at the front door?
The young man entered, holding out a slip of paper. “This is for you.”
Nagel took the paper and eyed the two handwritten words.
Саша Весна
“I don’t know what this is,” she said, annoyed. “I don’t speak Russian.”
The Marine looked puzzled. “She assured me you would know who she is.”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“The Russian at the front door. She asked to speak to Michael Harris.”
A Russian looking for Michael? Here? Now?
“I asked her to write down her name.” The Marine motioned to the slip of paper. “I believe it’s pronounced ‘Sasha Vesna.’ ”