Gregory's Last Gambit
by Rankamateur
Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong to Warner Bros. and Shoot The Moon Enterprises Ltd.
References to:
Wrong Number written by David Brown
Tail of the Dancing Weasel written by George Geiger
Time: Third Season. This time I'm borrowing Gregory and Towne/Tutttle/Popovich too, for a little AU.
Gregory's last little run-in with The Agency may cost him a trip to the gulags. Unless he can come up with a plan--and soon.
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Gregory raised his hand in a half-hearted salute, which was returned by Billy Melrose. The Agency personnel, including the just ransomed and extremely grateful, Francine Desmond together with Professor William Towne, who would *not* be joining the KGB's cipher department, were getting into their vehicles and leaving the area.
Gregory stood there looking after them. He was in trouble, a lot of trouble and he knew it. He was sure that Scarecrow and Mrs. King had something to do with this fiasco. He had caught a glimpse of Mrs. King, assisting Dr. Towne to the safety of one of the Agency cars. He would not be at all surprised to learn that it was she who had realized that Dr. Will Towne was *not* a double agent at all. That would have been the first step in ruining this gambit. 'Damn her and damn Scarecrow!' he thought angrily.
But a plan was already beginning to take shape in his agile mind. He was *not* going back to the Lubyanka again - not if he could help it. The first element in his plan involved that imbecile Popovich, aka Wally Tuttle, his Will Towne look-a-like.
"Comrade Gregor, what shall we do now?"
Turning towards his team of KGB operatives, Gregory responded, "I want you to put Popovich in one of the sedans and give me the keys. I will see to it personally that this idiot never ruins another one of my operations!"
"But sir, we would be happy to . . . ."
"No," Gregory cut him off. Putting his hand on the younger man's shoulder he finished, "it will give me enormous satisfaction to take care of this matter myself. Take the limo and go back to the Embassy, Ivan. I will join you there as soon as I have completed this . . . business."
Gregory got in the car, backed it up and headed down the road. As soon as he was out of sight, he changed directions and adjusted his course for Maryland, a rural area in Prince Georges County where he had a small but comfortable cabin, which he used as a getaway. He had been there recently and stocked it with the necessities as well as a few of the luxuries afforded by life in Washington DC.
'So much nicer than what was available in Moscow,' he thought; not to mention areas further from the centers of political and social activities - like Siberia! 'And besides, my tailor is here,' he smiled somewhat sardonically.
The man crumpled up against the passenger door began to stir, moaning a little as he reached a hand tentatively to his forehead.
"Oh . . . , what happened? Where am I?" Popovich asked in a slightly slurred voice.
"What happened? What happened is that *you* caused the absolute and utter failure of our mission. We gave up Miss Desmond and we *did not* get Dr. Towne. We got you instead, Popovich. Do you know that this means?"
Gregory sounded angrier than Popovich had ever heard him. "It means that I shall be on a plane for the Gulags within the hour?"
"No, Leonid. Actually I have something else in mind. We may yet redeem ourselves. I am taking you to my place in Maryland where you will stay until you hear from me. You will make no attempt whatsoever to contact anyone. ANYONE . . . is that understood?"
"Yes, comrade Gregor."
"If I find that you have tried to meet with or talk to or even blow smoke-rings at that woman, I will shoot you myself, and that is a promise."
"You have my word comrade."
"Tell me, how did Scarecrow and Mrs. King find you?" Gregory asked.
"Well . . . ahh . . . it was . . . umm . . . " Popovich stopped and hung his head. "It's a long story." he finally managed to say.
"I think I can summarize your story--I can do it one word--Cindy!"
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Meanwhile, back at The Agency; Lee, Amanda, Francine, Will Towne and his wife were just finishing up their impromptu, celebratory dinner - Chinese take-out - no MSG. After her harrowing experiences of the past few days, Francine was off in search of some comfort food, chocolate, no doubt. She had to have a candy bar, she said as she left the Q-Bureau. The Townes said their good-byes and Lee and Amanda were left alone. After engaging in a rather cryptic conversation about "knowing" and "not really knowing", Amanda, as usual, managed to get in the last word as she silenced Lee with a bite of food.
"Shall we clean up and get out of here?" Lee asked, smiling.
"What did you have in mind?" Amanda responded.
"Oh, maybe a nice after dinner drink. There's this new place, Michaud's, I've been looking forward to checking out their wine list. What do you think?"
"OK, but I can't stay too long. Mother and the boys will be home in . . . ," she consulted her watch, "about an hour."
"Great."
They quickly removed all the remnants of dinner from the desk and dumped them into a plastic bag and then into a wastebasket.
"Let's go." Lee opened the door and put his hand on the small of Amanda's back as she moved through the doorway and into the hall.
When they reached the Georgetown foyer, they removed their badges and handed them to a smiling Mrs. Martson.
"Good night Mrs. King. Good night Mr. Stetson."
"Good night Mrs. Marston," they chorused.
'What a lovely couple they make. I wonder how much longer it's going to take for them to figure that out?' Mrs. Marston was, at heart, a hopeless romantic.
Once outside, Lee took Amanda's hands in his. "Shall we go in my car?"
"No," Amanda answered hesitantly. "Umm, I better take my own car. I do have to get home you know."
"OK. You know where this place is?"
"Yup. There was an article about it in last Sunday's paper. See you there."
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Gregory arrived back at the Soviet Embassy and showed the guard at the gate his credentials - assistant to the Cultural Attache' - his cover. There was a message waiting for him: the Ambassador wished to see him *immediately*! As he had suspected - he was in trouble.
After leaving the Ambassador, who had informed him that he had been demoted to second in command and that his replacement was even now winging his way to Washington, Gregory realized that even his collection of video tapes, which the First Undersecretary for International Exchange had found so distressing after the Harry V. Thornton affair, would not be enough to save him this time. Two failed attempts to best The Agency. Two strikes against him. He had been demoted to the second spot in the KGB hierarchy here in Washington. He would *not* sit around and wait for a third fiasco. It was time for something dramatic - a tour de force to extricate himself from his current, very uncomfortable position. At least the Ambassador had not questioned him about Popovich. The idea of KGB "justice" made His Excellency nervous. He didn't *want* to know.
Gregory would go back to his little safe house in Maryland as soon as possible, so he could begin to put his plan in motion.
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Lee and Amanda sat at a small table in a dark, quiet corner of Michaud's.
"How's your wine?" Lee asked as he held Amanda's hand, absently toying with her fingers, one at a time.
"Oh, it's . . . it's delicious." she responded nervously.
"You know, I'm sorry about the way I yelled at you in Billy's office the other day. I should have know that . . . your instincts about Dr. Towne were right."
"Oh, Lee, you don't have to apologize . . . . "
"Yes I do . . . . I'm sorry."
"It's OK."
Their eyes met and held--and for a long moment they gazed at each other, seemingly hypnotized by what they saw, or thought they saw, or wanted to see, in the others eyes.
"Ah, Amanda . . . I . . . uh . . . I . . . ."
"You what, Lee?"
"I what what?"
"You said . . . you . . . and . . . oh . . . well . . . .."
"Did you folks want anything else?" the waitress's voice boomed out at them.
What was that line from My Fair Lady? Something about a "voice that shatters glass!" This woman may well have been the inspiration for that line.
The mood was broken, the moment lost. Lee pulled his hand away from Amanda's at a speed usually reserved for removing one's fingers from a hot stove.
"No, just the bill please," Lee managed to stammer.
They left the restaurant and started to walk towards their respective cars.
"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow--at work," Lee began.
"No, tomorrow is Saturday and I won't be in unless Mr. Melrose comes up with something special that he needs me for."
"Right, I forgot. So, I'll see you Monday then."
"See you Monday."
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"It's Saturday morning. She will most likely be at home. I want you to call Mrs. King, pretending that you are William Towne, tell her you are afraid and that you need to meet her, as soon as possible."
"What am I supposed to be afraid of, comrade Gregor?"
"Ah . . . , you have seen that man who looks like you. The one The Agency traded for Ms. Desmond. You're afraid the KGB will try something else. You trust her - more than you do her partner, Stetson, so that is why you are calling her at home. And you do not want to worry your wife, so will Mrs. King please meet you at McBurger's which is only about a mile from your house. I have checked and the place is closed down, so we should have the parking lot to ourselves. Here is the phone and here is the number--call her."
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Amanda pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of McBurger's. It was almost ten o'clock in the morning and she was surprised that there seemed to be only one or two other cars in sight. She had been a little apprehensive about the idea of meeting Professor Towne without Lee or someone from The Agency being aware of her situation. Of course she wasn't going to *do* anything, other than try and convince Dr. Towne to talk to Lee or to Mr. Melrose or even to Francine. She had told Dotty that the caller was a potential client for IFF who wanted to discuss some possible locations for a documentary he had in the planning stages. She wasn't sure whether or not her mother had believed her but at least Dotty hadn't given her an argument or grilled her on exactly where she would be or for how long.
Amanda's reverie was interrupted by someone knocking on the window of the passenger-side door. She looked and saw the now familiar face of Dr. Will Towne. She leaned over and unlocked the door, motioning for Dr. Towne to get in.
"Good morning, Will," she began as Towne slid into the seat. "What can *I* do to help you?"
"Well, Mrs. King . . . "
Before he could finish the sentence, a tall figure had reached in through the open window of the driver's door and placed a cloth over Amanda's nose and mouth. She struggled briefly and then slumped over the steering wheel.
"Help me to move her over into your seat. Then you drive our car back and I will drive Mrs. King's car. Hurry!"
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Amanda woke up slowly, still groggy from...whatever had been on the cloth. The last thing she remembered was that rag being shoved against her face. Now she was--she didn't know where and it was--she didn't know how much later. She tried to sit up but did so too quickly. A wave of dizziness and nausea swept over her. She lay back down for a few seconds before trying again - this time more slowly. She was in a room - a fairly large and comfortable looking room. It looked comfortable and inviting even though, as she quickly discovered, the door was locked and the windows barred. The furnishings did remind her very much of what she had in her own home; warm brown wood pieces in the Federal style, an antique brass lamp with a milkglass shade on the nightstand. There were several Colonial prints on the walls, including an American Primitive which Amanda recognized but couldn't recall the name of off-hand.
There was a soft knock at the door. "Mrs. King, may I come in?" a man's voice asked.
Amanda bit back a sarcastic remark to the effect that since whoever it was on the other side of the door had the key, she couldn't very well stop him - and simply said, "Yes."
Gregory opened the door and entered the room carrying a tray. "I imagine you are hungry by now, so I have brought you a sandwich and a little salad and some coffee."
He set the tray down on a small table near one of the two windows and regarded his unwilling guest with a kindly expression.
Amanda didn't know what to make of Gregory's seemingly friendly demeanor, but decided to try and take advantage of it and asked, "What do you want? Why did you drug me and bring me here? What time is it? My mother and my boys will be worried about me, so can I at least call them and say I'm OK?"
Gregory was a bit nonplused by Amanda's barrage but quickly regained his composure and answered, "I want to have a few words with your partner. I think he will be much more cooperative when he learns that you are my guest."
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"So comrade, you will lure Stetson here and then--what? Drug him and pump him for information? Crate him and ship him off to Moscow? Perhaps you plan simply to terminate him. Bringing down the infamous Scarecrow should raise your stock in the Kremlin."
"Popovich, I have plans for Lee Stetson but they are on a *need to know* basis, and for the moment you need to know only that I have one more little gambit in mind."
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Lee sat on his couch twiddling his thumbs, literally. He had cleaned the apartment, well he had only dusted actually, but he had done a really thorough job of it. After checking his refrigerator and removing anything he couldn't identify, which was most everything, he had gone to the store to restock a few essentials. Then he had washed and waxed his beloved car. Now he was just sitting there, wondering if he could come up with some reason, any reason, to go over to Amanda's or at least to call her. Just then the phone rang. Could it be that Amanda had read his thoughts and was calling him? With a grin, he picked up the handset, before the third ring. "Stetson."
"Mr. Stetson, this is Myra at the Agency switchboard. I have a call on the IFF line for you. It's a Mr. Gregory. Says it's about a piece of property you were interested in. I think he said it was in Arlington."
Lee's face lost all its color. "Patch him through."
"Right. Thanks."
After a brief moment, Gregory came on the line. "Mr. Stetson, how good of you to take my call. Although, under the circumstances, I rather thought that you would."
"All right Gregory, cut the crap. What's this about property in Arlington?" Lee tried not to let his voice betray his near panic.
"Actually, the property is not *in* Arlington, it's *from* Arlington. Your charming partner, Mrs. King is my house guest."
"Is she Okay? She'd better be or I'll . . . "
"Tut tut, Mr. Stetson. No threats please. That isn't necessary. I have no intention of harming Amanda. I just want to see you, to discuss a business proposition. What is the expression A. S. A. P.? Ah, yes, that's it--as soon as possible. Now, if you will get a pen and paper I will give you the directions. And oh, Scarecrow, come *alone*."
This last word was said in a most menacing tone of voice. Lee cringed - thinking of Amanda in the hands of a ruthless KGB operative. "I've got something to write on - go ahead." After taking down the directions, Lee concluded the conversation. "I'll be there in about an hour and a half."
"Fine. Mrs. King and I will be waiting."
Lee immediately dialed Amanda's home. Dotty answered. "Hello Mrs. West. It's Lee Steadman. Is Amanda there?"
"No, I sorry Mr. Steadman, she isn't. She left about nine thirty this morning. She said she was meeting a prospective IFF client. They were going to check on locations or something. Do you need to talk to her?"
"Well, it's nothing that won't keep. She's a real go-getter, out drumming up business on her own this way. Umm, thanks Mrs. West. I'll talk to you again. Good-bye."
"Bye."
As soon as the line cleared, Lee dialed Billy's number at home. "Hello, Jeannie, it's Lee. I need to talk to Billy. It's an emergency."
Billy picked up in less than a minute, which seemed like an eternity to Lee. "What's up?"
"Gregory just called me. He's got Amanda."
"WHAT? Are you sure?'
"Yes, I called her house and her mother said she left early this morning to meet with a prospective client for IFF. She didn't know where she was and I'm sure she didn't know when Amanda might be back. Billy, you know Amanda wasn't meeting with any prospective client. Somebody--Gregory--tricked her and now they've got her. Anyway, he gave me directions and said for me to come alone and he made it sound like a threat."
Look Lee, we'll put a homing device in your car and a wire on you. We'll stay way back and we'll only come in if it seems like something you can't handle by yourself. We won't do anything to put Amanda or you, in any more danger than you might be in already."
"OK . . . I'm going out the door right now. I'll see you at the office in ten minutes."
"Lee."
"What."
"Stay somewhere near the speed limit so that you *will* get there."
"Right."
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After being fitted with a wire and a tracking device, Lee headed for Prince Georges County, Maryland and Gregory's little retreat. He made the trip in around forty-five minutes, which left him with more than enough time to reconnoiter the area. He was looking for a way in --an advantage--a way to surprise Gregory and whoever was helping him--and gain the upper hand. That was another question. How many men did Gregory have with him in this operation? 'Operation Scarecrow,' Lee thought wryly, using Amanda as bait. 'If he hurts her in any way, I'll kill him. No trials, no appeals, no exchanges--he's a dead man.'
Arriving in the secluded, park-like area, Lee drove past the cabin. Well, it was more than just a cabin. It appeared to be a very nice house. He parked the 'vette about a third of a mile down the road and began making his way through the trees and underbrush that surrounded the house and yard. Lee figured he could get within about thirty feet but any closer than that and he would be pretty much out in the open. Gun drawn, he made his way as silently as the thick covering of leaves on the ground would permit. He was getting closer and closer to the back of the house. There was a small shed he could use for cover, which was maybe fifteen feet from a small wooden deck with a set of French doors, which appeared to enter into the living room. Just as he was contemplating his next move--he heard a sound behind him.
"Don't move Scarecrow. I have a gun on you and at this distance, even I couldn't miss." It was Popovich.
"Drop your gun, put your hands behind your head and start walking towards the deck--slowly."
Lee did as he was told. As they reached the top step, the door opened, revealing Gregory. Lee hesitated, unconsciously clenching his hands into fists. Popovich shoved the gun into his back, "Keep moving Scarecrow. Into the house," he said, pushing the gun even further into Lee's back.
"Welcome, Mr. Stetson. Come in. Won't you sit down?" Gregory asked with a smile on his face and in his voice. He had the look of a man who knew he had just won the game.
"Where's Amanda? I . . . AMANDA," Lee called out
"Lee, I'm here in a bedroom," came Amanda's somewhat muffled response.
"Gregory, if you've hurt her in any way I swear, . . . I want to see her—NOW!"
"In due time Mr. Stetson, in due time. Now SIT DOWN."
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About a quarter of a mile away, Billy Melrose and several of his agents, were listening to this exchange. 'Glad I made Lee wear that wire,' Billy thought. "OK people. Listen up. Gregory and his accomplice have got Lee. We've got to go in but let's do it *quietly*. Duffy, Bacon, you two go around to the back. Rogers, you cover the east side of the house and Martin, you take the west. Francine, you and I will go in the front way."
"Let's do it," the blond agent smiled.
"Right," Billy said. Let's go."
With all his agents in position, Billy and Francine crept up onto the front porch. Motioning to Francine to go ahead and take a look in the front window, Billy took a quick peek through the glass of the front door.
From his position, Billy could see only Gregory.
Francine took a quick look and ducked down. She held up two fingers and then one finger, at the same time mouthing --"Lee."
"Ready," he whispered into the small mic fastened to his lapel . . . "GO!" With that he kicked in the front door and he and Francine bolted into the front room. Two other agents entered through the French doors at the back of the room.
"Hands up you two," Billy yelled, gesturing at Gregory and a stunned looking Popovich.
"Ahh, Billy," Gregory smiled. "What took you so long?"
Suddenly Popovich realized exactly what Gregory's little gambit was all about.
"I want to *defect*," they said in unison.
"Both of you?" Billy asked incredulously.
"Yes!" they responded together--again.
"Okay."
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TAG
The debriefing was nearly completed. Billy tried to suppress a smile. He couldn't help but notice that Lee had seldom let go of Amanda's hand since they had returned to the Agency.
"So, Amanda, neither Gregory nor Popovich hurt you in any way." It was a statement for Lee's benefit rather than a question for his own.
"No sir. Well, except for the chloroform, or whatever it was, they were nice, polite, very considerate. Gregory went out of his way to see to it that I was comfortable. Sir, I think Gregory *really* did set up the whole thing so he could defect. I really believe him."
"I think you're right Amanda. OK. You two can take off now. Have a nice--what's left of the weekend."
"Night, Billy."
Good night sir."
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"Well, here we are, walking to our cars and saying good-bye again. Amanda...you know, umm, going off like that on your own . . . it really . . . was dangerous. Please, in the future—never . . . "
"I know--NEVER go off without a backup. Oh gosh," Amanda said with a huge sigh. "Lee, I don't know how you do it."
"Do what?"
"Put up with me."
"Well, it takes a *lotta* practice," he said with a smile and a wink, "but I'm getting the hang of it."
She punched his arm, softly. "See you Monday."
"Yeah, see ya Monday."
As he walked towards his car, a sudden, strange surge of gratitude swept over him....gratitude to the Shriners and for their colorful taste in headgear. He smiled....maybe he'd send them a little donation...on Monday.
The End
by Rankamateur
Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong to Warner Bros. and Shoot The Moon Enterprises Ltd.
References to:
Wrong Number written by David Brown
Tail of the Dancing Weasel written by George Geiger
Time: Third Season. This time I'm borrowing Gregory and Towne/Tutttle/Popovich too, for a little AU.
Gregory's last little run-in with The Agency may cost him a trip to the gulags. Unless he can come up with a plan--and soon.
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Gregory raised his hand in a half-hearted salute, which was returned by Billy Melrose. The Agency personnel, including the just ransomed and extremely grateful, Francine Desmond together with Professor William Towne, who would *not* be joining the KGB's cipher department, were getting into their vehicles and leaving the area.
Gregory stood there looking after them. He was in trouble, a lot of trouble and he knew it. He was sure that Scarecrow and Mrs. King had something to do with this fiasco. He had caught a glimpse of Mrs. King, assisting Dr. Towne to the safety of one of the Agency cars. He would not be at all surprised to learn that it was she who had realized that Dr. Will Towne was *not* a double agent at all. That would have been the first step in ruining this gambit. 'Damn her and damn Scarecrow!' he thought angrily.
But a plan was already beginning to take shape in his agile mind. He was *not* going back to the Lubyanka again - not if he could help it. The first element in his plan involved that imbecile Popovich, aka Wally Tuttle, his Will Towne look-a-like.
"Comrade Gregor, what shall we do now?"
Turning towards his team of KGB operatives, Gregory responded, "I want you to put Popovich in one of the sedans and give me the keys. I will see to it personally that this idiot never ruins another one of my operations!"
"But sir, we would be happy to . . . ."
"No," Gregory cut him off. Putting his hand on the younger man's shoulder he finished, "it will give me enormous satisfaction to take care of this matter myself. Take the limo and go back to the Embassy, Ivan. I will join you there as soon as I have completed this . . . business."
Gregory got in the car, backed it up and headed down the road. As soon as he was out of sight, he changed directions and adjusted his course for Maryland, a rural area in Prince Georges County where he had a small but comfortable cabin, which he used as a getaway. He had been there recently and stocked it with the necessities as well as a few of the luxuries afforded by life in Washington DC.
'So much nicer than what was available in Moscow,' he thought; not to mention areas further from the centers of political and social activities - like Siberia! 'And besides, my tailor is here,' he smiled somewhat sardonically.
The man crumpled up against the passenger door began to stir, moaning a little as he reached a hand tentatively to his forehead.
"Oh . . . , what happened? Where am I?" Popovich asked in a slightly slurred voice.
"What happened? What happened is that *you* caused the absolute and utter failure of our mission. We gave up Miss Desmond and we *did not* get Dr. Towne. We got you instead, Popovich. Do you know that this means?"
Gregory sounded angrier than Popovich had ever heard him. "It means that I shall be on a plane for the Gulags within the hour?"
"No, Leonid. Actually I have something else in mind. We may yet redeem ourselves. I am taking you to my place in Maryland where you will stay until you hear from me. You will make no attempt whatsoever to contact anyone. ANYONE . . . is that understood?"
"Yes, comrade Gregor."
"If I find that you have tried to meet with or talk to or even blow smoke-rings at that woman, I will shoot you myself, and that is a promise."
"You have my word comrade."
"Tell me, how did Scarecrow and Mrs. King find you?" Gregory asked.
"Well . . . ahh . . . it was . . . umm . . . " Popovich stopped and hung his head. "It's a long story." he finally managed to say.
"I think I can summarize your story--I can do it one word--Cindy!"
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Meanwhile, back at The Agency; Lee, Amanda, Francine, Will Towne and his wife were just finishing up their impromptu, celebratory dinner - Chinese take-out - no MSG. After her harrowing experiences of the past few days, Francine was off in search of some comfort food, chocolate, no doubt. She had to have a candy bar, she said as she left the Q-Bureau. The Townes said their good-byes and Lee and Amanda were left alone. After engaging in a rather cryptic conversation about "knowing" and "not really knowing", Amanda, as usual, managed to get in the last word as she silenced Lee with a bite of food.
"Shall we clean up and get out of here?" Lee asked, smiling.
"What did you have in mind?" Amanda responded.
"Oh, maybe a nice after dinner drink. There's this new place, Michaud's, I've been looking forward to checking out their wine list. What do you think?"
"OK, but I can't stay too long. Mother and the boys will be home in . . . ," she consulted her watch, "about an hour."
"Great."
They quickly removed all the remnants of dinner from the desk and dumped them into a plastic bag and then into a wastebasket.
"Let's go." Lee opened the door and put his hand on the small of Amanda's back as she moved through the doorway and into the hall.
When they reached the Georgetown foyer, they removed their badges and handed them to a smiling Mrs. Martson.
"Good night Mrs. King. Good night Mr. Stetson."
"Good night Mrs. Marston," they chorused.
'What a lovely couple they make. I wonder how much longer it's going to take for them to figure that out?' Mrs. Marston was, at heart, a hopeless romantic.
Once outside, Lee took Amanda's hands in his. "Shall we go in my car?"
"No," Amanda answered hesitantly. "Umm, I better take my own car. I do have to get home you know."
"OK. You know where this place is?"
"Yup. There was an article about it in last Sunday's paper. See you there."
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Gregory arrived back at the Soviet Embassy and showed the guard at the gate his credentials - assistant to the Cultural Attache' - his cover. There was a message waiting for him: the Ambassador wished to see him *immediately*! As he had suspected - he was in trouble.
After leaving the Ambassador, who had informed him that he had been demoted to second in command and that his replacement was even now winging his way to Washington, Gregory realized that even his collection of video tapes, which the First Undersecretary for International Exchange had found so distressing after the Harry V. Thornton affair, would not be enough to save him this time. Two failed attempts to best The Agency. Two strikes against him. He had been demoted to the second spot in the KGB hierarchy here in Washington. He would *not* sit around and wait for a third fiasco. It was time for something dramatic - a tour de force to extricate himself from his current, very uncomfortable position. At least the Ambassador had not questioned him about Popovich. The idea of KGB "justice" made His Excellency nervous. He didn't *want* to know.
Gregory would go back to his little safe house in Maryland as soon as possible, so he could begin to put his plan in motion.
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Lee and Amanda sat at a small table in a dark, quiet corner of Michaud's.
"How's your wine?" Lee asked as he held Amanda's hand, absently toying with her fingers, one at a time.
"Oh, it's . . . it's delicious." she responded nervously.
"You know, I'm sorry about the way I yelled at you in Billy's office the other day. I should have know that . . . your instincts about Dr. Towne were right."
"Oh, Lee, you don't have to apologize . . . . "
"Yes I do . . . . I'm sorry."
"It's OK."
Their eyes met and held--and for a long moment they gazed at each other, seemingly hypnotized by what they saw, or thought they saw, or wanted to see, in the others eyes.
"Ah, Amanda . . . I . . . uh . . . I . . . ."
"You what, Lee?"
"I what what?"
"You said . . . you . . . and . . . oh . . . well . . . .."
"Did you folks want anything else?" the waitress's voice boomed out at them.
What was that line from My Fair Lady? Something about a "voice that shatters glass!" This woman may well have been the inspiration for that line.
The mood was broken, the moment lost. Lee pulled his hand away from Amanda's at a speed usually reserved for removing one's fingers from a hot stove.
"No, just the bill please," Lee managed to stammer.
They left the restaurant and started to walk towards their respective cars.
"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow--at work," Lee began.
"No, tomorrow is Saturday and I won't be in unless Mr. Melrose comes up with something special that he needs me for."
"Right, I forgot. So, I'll see you Monday then."
"See you Monday."
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"It's Saturday morning. She will most likely be at home. I want you to call Mrs. King, pretending that you are William Towne, tell her you are afraid and that you need to meet her, as soon as possible."
"What am I supposed to be afraid of, comrade Gregor?"
"Ah . . . , you have seen that man who looks like you. The one The Agency traded for Ms. Desmond. You're afraid the KGB will try something else. You trust her - more than you do her partner, Stetson, so that is why you are calling her at home. And you do not want to worry your wife, so will Mrs. King please meet you at McBurger's which is only about a mile from your house. I have checked and the place is closed down, so we should have the parking lot to ourselves. Here is the phone and here is the number--call her."
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Amanda pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of McBurger's. It was almost ten o'clock in the morning and she was surprised that there seemed to be only one or two other cars in sight. She had been a little apprehensive about the idea of meeting Professor Towne without Lee or someone from The Agency being aware of her situation. Of course she wasn't going to *do* anything, other than try and convince Dr. Towne to talk to Lee or to Mr. Melrose or even to Francine. She had told Dotty that the caller was a potential client for IFF who wanted to discuss some possible locations for a documentary he had in the planning stages. She wasn't sure whether or not her mother had believed her but at least Dotty hadn't given her an argument or grilled her on exactly where she would be or for how long.
Amanda's reverie was interrupted by someone knocking on the window of the passenger-side door. She looked and saw the now familiar face of Dr. Will Towne. She leaned over and unlocked the door, motioning for Dr. Towne to get in.
"Good morning, Will," she began as Towne slid into the seat. "What can *I* do to help you?"
"Well, Mrs. King . . . "
Before he could finish the sentence, a tall figure had reached in through the open window of the driver's door and placed a cloth over Amanda's nose and mouth. She struggled briefly and then slumped over the steering wheel.
"Help me to move her over into your seat. Then you drive our car back and I will drive Mrs. King's car. Hurry!"
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Amanda woke up slowly, still groggy from...whatever had been on the cloth. The last thing she remembered was that rag being shoved against her face. Now she was--she didn't know where and it was--she didn't know how much later. She tried to sit up but did so too quickly. A wave of dizziness and nausea swept over her. She lay back down for a few seconds before trying again - this time more slowly. She was in a room - a fairly large and comfortable looking room. It looked comfortable and inviting even though, as she quickly discovered, the door was locked and the windows barred. The furnishings did remind her very much of what she had in her own home; warm brown wood pieces in the Federal style, an antique brass lamp with a milkglass shade on the nightstand. There were several Colonial prints on the walls, including an American Primitive which Amanda recognized but couldn't recall the name of off-hand.
There was a soft knock at the door. "Mrs. King, may I come in?" a man's voice asked.
Amanda bit back a sarcastic remark to the effect that since whoever it was on the other side of the door had the key, she couldn't very well stop him - and simply said, "Yes."
Gregory opened the door and entered the room carrying a tray. "I imagine you are hungry by now, so I have brought you a sandwich and a little salad and some coffee."
He set the tray down on a small table near one of the two windows and regarded his unwilling guest with a kindly expression.
Amanda didn't know what to make of Gregory's seemingly friendly demeanor, but decided to try and take advantage of it and asked, "What do you want? Why did you drug me and bring me here? What time is it? My mother and my boys will be worried about me, so can I at least call them and say I'm OK?"
Gregory was a bit nonplused by Amanda's barrage but quickly regained his composure and answered, "I want to have a few words with your partner. I think he will be much more cooperative when he learns that you are my guest."
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"So comrade, you will lure Stetson here and then--what? Drug him and pump him for information? Crate him and ship him off to Moscow? Perhaps you plan simply to terminate him. Bringing down the infamous Scarecrow should raise your stock in the Kremlin."
"Popovich, I have plans for Lee Stetson but they are on a *need to know* basis, and for the moment you need to know only that I have one more little gambit in mind."
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Lee sat on his couch twiddling his thumbs, literally. He had cleaned the apartment, well he had only dusted actually, but he had done a really thorough job of it. After checking his refrigerator and removing anything he couldn't identify, which was most everything, he had gone to the store to restock a few essentials. Then he had washed and waxed his beloved car. Now he was just sitting there, wondering if he could come up with some reason, any reason, to go over to Amanda's or at least to call her. Just then the phone rang. Could it be that Amanda had read his thoughts and was calling him? With a grin, he picked up the handset, before the third ring. "Stetson."
"Mr. Stetson, this is Myra at the Agency switchboard. I have a call on the IFF line for you. It's a Mr. Gregory. Says it's about a piece of property you were interested in. I think he said it was in Arlington."
Lee's face lost all its color. "Patch him through."
"Right. Thanks."
After a brief moment, Gregory came on the line. "Mr. Stetson, how good of you to take my call. Although, under the circumstances, I rather thought that you would."
"All right Gregory, cut the crap. What's this about property in Arlington?" Lee tried not to let his voice betray his near panic.
"Actually, the property is not *in* Arlington, it's *from* Arlington. Your charming partner, Mrs. King is my house guest."
"Is she Okay? She'd better be or I'll . . . "
"Tut tut, Mr. Stetson. No threats please. That isn't necessary. I have no intention of harming Amanda. I just want to see you, to discuss a business proposition. What is the expression A. S. A. P.? Ah, yes, that's it--as soon as possible. Now, if you will get a pen and paper I will give you the directions. And oh, Scarecrow, come *alone*."
This last word was said in a most menacing tone of voice. Lee cringed - thinking of Amanda in the hands of a ruthless KGB operative. "I've got something to write on - go ahead." After taking down the directions, Lee concluded the conversation. "I'll be there in about an hour and a half."
"Fine. Mrs. King and I will be waiting."
Lee immediately dialed Amanda's home. Dotty answered. "Hello Mrs. West. It's Lee Steadman. Is Amanda there?"
"No, I sorry Mr. Steadman, she isn't. She left about nine thirty this morning. She said she was meeting a prospective IFF client. They were going to check on locations or something. Do you need to talk to her?"
"Well, it's nothing that won't keep. She's a real go-getter, out drumming up business on her own this way. Umm, thanks Mrs. West. I'll talk to you again. Good-bye."
"Bye."
As soon as the line cleared, Lee dialed Billy's number at home. "Hello, Jeannie, it's Lee. I need to talk to Billy. It's an emergency."
Billy picked up in less than a minute, which seemed like an eternity to Lee. "What's up?"
"Gregory just called me. He's got Amanda."
"WHAT? Are you sure?'
"Yes, I called her house and her mother said she left early this morning to meet with a prospective client for IFF. She didn't know where she was and I'm sure she didn't know when Amanda might be back. Billy, you know Amanda wasn't meeting with any prospective client. Somebody--Gregory--tricked her and now they've got her. Anyway, he gave me directions and said for me to come alone and he made it sound like a threat."
Look Lee, we'll put a homing device in your car and a wire on you. We'll stay way back and we'll only come in if it seems like something you can't handle by yourself. We won't do anything to put Amanda or you, in any more danger than you might be in already."
"OK . . . I'm going out the door right now. I'll see you at the office in ten minutes."
"Lee."
"What."
"Stay somewhere near the speed limit so that you *will* get there."
"Right."
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After being fitted with a wire and a tracking device, Lee headed for Prince Georges County, Maryland and Gregory's little retreat. He made the trip in around forty-five minutes, which left him with more than enough time to reconnoiter the area. He was looking for a way in --an advantage--a way to surprise Gregory and whoever was helping him--and gain the upper hand. That was another question. How many men did Gregory have with him in this operation? 'Operation Scarecrow,' Lee thought wryly, using Amanda as bait. 'If he hurts her in any way, I'll kill him. No trials, no appeals, no exchanges--he's a dead man.'
Arriving in the secluded, park-like area, Lee drove past the cabin. Well, it was more than just a cabin. It appeared to be a very nice house. He parked the 'vette about a third of a mile down the road and began making his way through the trees and underbrush that surrounded the house and yard. Lee figured he could get within about thirty feet but any closer than that and he would be pretty much out in the open. Gun drawn, he made his way as silently as the thick covering of leaves on the ground would permit. He was getting closer and closer to the back of the house. There was a small shed he could use for cover, which was maybe fifteen feet from a small wooden deck with a set of French doors, which appeared to enter into the living room. Just as he was contemplating his next move--he heard a sound behind him.
"Don't move Scarecrow. I have a gun on you and at this distance, even I couldn't miss." It was Popovich.
"Drop your gun, put your hands behind your head and start walking towards the deck--slowly."
Lee did as he was told. As they reached the top step, the door opened, revealing Gregory. Lee hesitated, unconsciously clenching his hands into fists. Popovich shoved the gun into his back, "Keep moving Scarecrow. Into the house," he said, pushing the gun even further into Lee's back.
"Welcome, Mr. Stetson. Come in. Won't you sit down?" Gregory asked with a smile on his face and in his voice. He had the look of a man who knew he had just won the game.
"Where's Amanda? I . . . AMANDA," Lee called out
"Lee, I'm here in a bedroom," came Amanda's somewhat muffled response.
"Gregory, if you've hurt her in any way I swear, . . . I want to see her—NOW!"
"In due time Mr. Stetson, in due time. Now SIT DOWN."
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About a quarter of a mile away, Billy Melrose and several of his agents, were listening to this exchange. 'Glad I made Lee wear that wire,' Billy thought. "OK people. Listen up. Gregory and his accomplice have got Lee. We've got to go in but let's do it *quietly*. Duffy, Bacon, you two go around to the back. Rogers, you cover the east side of the house and Martin, you take the west. Francine, you and I will go in the front way."
"Let's do it," the blond agent smiled.
"Right," Billy said. Let's go."
With all his agents in position, Billy and Francine crept up onto the front porch. Motioning to Francine to go ahead and take a look in the front window, Billy took a quick peek through the glass of the front door.
From his position, Billy could see only Gregory.
Francine took a quick look and ducked down. She held up two fingers and then one finger, at the same time mouthing --"Lee."
"Ready," he whispered into the small mic fastened to his lapel . . . "GO!" With that he kicked in the front door and he and Francine bolted into the front room. Two other agents entered through the French doors at the back of the room.
"Hands up you two," Billy yelled, gesturing at Gregory and a stunned looking Popovich.
"Ahh, Billy," Gregory smiled. "What took you so long?"
Suddenly Popovich realized exactly what Gregory's little gambit was all about.
"I want to *defect*," they said in unison.
"Both of you?" Billy asked incredulously.
"Yes!" they responded together--again.
"Okay."
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TAG
The debriefing was nearly completed. Billy tried to suppress a smile. He couldn't help but notice that Lee had seldom let go of Amanda's hand since they had returned to the Agency.
"So, Amanda, neither Gregory nor Popovich hurt you in any way." It was a statement for Lee's benefit rather than a question for his own.
"No sir. Well, except for the chloroform, or whatever it was, they were nice, polite, very considerate. Gregory went out of his way to see to it that I was comfortable. Sir, I think Gregory *really* did set up the whole thing so he could defect. I really believe him."
"I think you're right Amanda. OK. You two can take off now. Have a nice--what's left of the weekend."
"Night, Billy."
Good night sir."
----------------------
"Well, here we are, walking to our cars and saying good-bye again. Amanda...you know, umm, going off like that on your own . . . it really . . . was dangerous. Please, in the future—never . . . "
"I know--NEVER go off without a backup. Oh gosh," Amanda said with a huge sigh. "Lee, I don't know how you do it."
"Do what?"
"Put up with me."
"Well, it takes a *lotta* practice," he said with a smile and a wink, "but I'm getting the hang of it."
She punched his arm, softly. "See you Monday."
"Yeah, see ya Monday."
As he walked towards his car, a sudden, strange surge of gratitude swept over him....gratitude to the Shriners and for their colorful taste in headgear. He smiled....maybe he'd send them a little donation...on Monday.
The End