Aaron's recuperation lasted two weeks, during which Martha and Angie felt as if they'd been dropped into an alternate universe: long hours spent at St. Basil's were punctuated by their trips to and from the Kremlin, carefully scheduled at irregular times for safety. They traveled concealed in food shipments, medical supply vehicles, ambulances and any other method of transportation the inventive Kryukov could imagine. He appeared to be enjoying the challenge, Martha noted: "It is an opportunity to improve our fieldwork abilities," he commented to her at one point. "It gives our younger agents a chance to learn new anti-terrorist tactics." As he spoke, he helped her step from the hospital's loading dock into the back of yet another truck and offered her a cardboard box to sit on.
Once again Angie's organizational skills proved invaluable in a crisis; she quickly negotiated with the Kremlin staff for access to a fax machine, informed Susan Margate that their stay in Moscow would be prolonged and set about rescheduling Martha's upcoming speaking engagements. She made it a point to befriend as many FSB agents and members of the hospital staff as possible in an effort to ensure the staff's continued goodwill toward Aaron and themselves. After prolonged talks with the U.S. Navy she was also able to contact Aaron's son, at sea on active duty, and let him know of his father's injuries. When she saw Martha's anxiety level begin to escalate, she gently nudged her to continue work on her upcoming speeches, hoping to keep her from brooding on the latest attack.
Though busy, Anya Suvarov was always willing to talk in the evenings. Now unhindered by Beth's presence, Martha found herself pouring out not only the entire story of her relationship with Aaron, but nearly everything that had happened to her in the last few months—although she carefully avoided all topics pertaining to Charles Logan. Anya proved to be a sympathetic listener and was absorbed by Martha's description of her life since she'd left the White House and filed for divorce. "You cannot give all the credit to Agent Pierce and Colonel Johnston, Martha," she commented at one point. "It is always good to have friends to help you, but the true responsibility for your success lies with you. You have been incredibly strong."
One afternoon a few days after the attack, while Aaron was napping, Martha glanced over to Angie. Unaware that she was being observed, Angie had dropped her usual look of professional composure; Martha was shocked at the strain and fatigue on her face. "Angie? Are you all right?" she asked, feeling guilty that she'd been too wrapped up in her own concerns to ask sooner.
"I'm fine, Martha. Just tired, I guess."
Martha moved her chair closer. "Are you sure?"
"I was thinking about something Aaron said to me before we left. We were talking about the attack on the motorcade. I said how horrible it must have been, and he said it happened so fast he hadn't had time to be scared, and that his training had prepared him for it." Angie rubbed her eyes. "I was never under fire before, Martha. My time in the Army was mostly administrative, bureaucracy stuff. I've never been in a situation like that, and I can't stop thinking about it. My combat training was years ago, and the only thing I've done since then is target practice." She stared at Martha with a look of guilt. "I've never killed anybody before. I guess that's what's really bothering me."
"You probably saved my life, Angie. Did you talk to Agent Kryukov? He told me the men you killed were well-known terrorists. He said the SVR thinks they're responsible for a lot of attacks in the past. They killed a lot of people."
"He told me the same thing." Angie shrugged. "It isn't helping."
Martha glanced around to make sure they couldn't be overheard, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Angie, I know exactly how you feel. I've been through this too." She waited for Angie to look up and then continued: "Aaron told you I saved his life, didn't he?"
Angie nodded, with a puzzled look on her face.
"Did he tell you how?"
"He said you showed up at the stables just as that agent who went bad was getting ready to shoot him. He said you distracted the guy and Aaron was able to struggle with him for the gun, and then it went off and killed him."
"That's what I thought he told you. It isn't true, at least not all of it." Angie was now riveted with curiosity; Martha saw with satisfaction that her look of worry was gone. "Aaron was handcuffed. He couldn't really defend himself. When he tried to fight back, Agent Adams dropped the gun. He went for a crowbar instead, but I got to the gun and shot him before he could beat Aaron to death."
With a stunned look on her face, Angie stared across the room at Aaron and then back at Martha, who continued: "The next day Aaron testified that he'd killed Adams. Then he came to me, told me what he'd done and asked me to back him up. Nobody knew the truth of what really happened. He did it to protect me, and I appreciate it more than I can tell you, but I still have to live with what I did. I know I did the right thing, but I feel horrible every time I think about it. Sometimes I even dream about it."
"Oh, my God," Angie muttered. "Martha, I didn't know… I don't know what to say."
Aaron stirred. As he blinked awake, Martha quickly whispered, "Don't tell him I told you. At least not right now." Angie nodded in agreement.
It felt odd being back in the White House, Novick thought. When Hal Gardner had taken over as President, their mutually antagonistic history had made him sure he would never be setting foot in it again. Gardner's request to meet with him had made Novick faintly suspicious, not to say apprehensive, but his mantra "Never turn down an invitation to the White House" had ensured his acceptance
Gardner nodded to him but did not offer a handshake, which surprised Mike not at all. "Mr. President. I'm glad to see you got back safely." Mike glanced around the Oval Office, surprised to see only Gardner instead of the economic advisory group he'd been asked to join. "Am I early?" he inquired.
"No, Mike, you're not. I'm not expecting anybody else. I'm sorry about the ploy, but I needed to talk to you and I had to make sure you had a plausible reason for coming to the White House."
Novick gave Gardner a puzzled look, but sat down as the President gestured him to a chair. "What can I help you with?"
"It has to do with the terrorist attack in Moscow. The gist of it is this: we have reason to believe Martha Logan was the target. The investigation showed that it would have taken more than a week to plan the attack, but at Martha's request the press was not informed that she was joining us until less than two days before we left. She was nervous about the trip, and apparently rightly so. Up until she left she told only one person she was going to Russia. That person was you."
Mike gripped the armrests of his chair. "You're accusing me of having betrayed Martha?" he asked indignantly.
"No, of course not. Martha said herself that she didn't tell you it was confidential. We just need to know, did you tell anyone?"
"Well—" Mike paused. "Someone asked me about her the other day. I'm pretty sure I mentioned her going to Russia with you. Now who was it?" He closed his eyes and thought. "It was at the reception the Institute held…" He snapped his fingers. "I've got it. It was Charles Logan's attorney, I think his name was Dunlap."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely. We were talking about Charles and that's when he asked after Martha." Novick suddenly looked worried. "You say Martha was the target," he repeated slowly. "Now why would that be? She had nothing to do with what he did."
Gardner shrugged. "Revenge? Protection against Charles selling them out? We don't know. The Russian intelligence agents are still working on that one."
Mike looked stricken. "Is she all right? I haven't heard from her since you got back."
"She's all right, but she's still in Moscow. Aaron Pierce was shot in the attack, wounded pretty severely. He's still in the hospital there." Gardner paused. "She wouldn't leave without him." He and Novick looked at each other; finally Novick gave a nod of comprehension. "That doesn't surprise me," he muttered.
"Mike, please don't tell anyone about this. Counselor Dunlap has had a certain reputation in legal circles for a long time, and it's not a good one. He might well have leaked the information about Martha joining us, perhaps to Charles Logan, perhaps someone else—we don't know. If we're ever going to find out who the other people involved in this plot are we're going to have to keep this investigation as quiet as possible."
Mike considered for a moment, then rose from his chair. "I wish you good luck, Mr. President. I really do. I won't tell anyone about this. If there's anything I can do to help you or Martha, or Aaron, I hope you'll let me know."
Gardner smiled for a moment and extended his hand. "Thank you, Mike. I may be putting that advisory committee together after all. When I do, I promise you'll be invited to join."
As Aaron improved he was able to talk for longer periods of time. To keep him occupied, Martha encouraged him to talk about his life growing up in Texas and his early days in the Service. Eventually he spoke about the failure of his marriage.
"We got married about a year out of high school. We'd been dating about three years by then. I was in college, coming home at the weekends, and Diane was working and living with her folks. She was tired of it, and wanted to get married, and it seemed all right with me. Everybody we'd gone to school with was getting married right around that time." He stared at the ceiling for a while, remembering, and shook his head. "Looking back it seems like such an obvious mistake. We didn't know each other well enough. We thought we knew everything there was to know about each other, but we didn't."
Martha squeezed his hand. He smiled at her, then continued: "Anyway, things were all right for a while. We had Nathan—my son—and I started with the Service. After I got transferred to Washington, it wasn't so good. Diane never wanted to leave Texas, she wanted to be with people she knew and stay near her family. I kept encouraging her to try to meet people, spend time with the parents of Nathan's friends… but she wanted her old friends. And then after September eleventh, it got really bad. Diane just flat out refused to stay. She said she was going home for a vacation, and she wound up staying for a month. Nathan was just finishing high school, so she came back, but after he joined the Navy it was pretty much all over. She kept spending more and more time back home. I took some vacation time and went after her to try to convince her to come back, but the minute I set foot in town I knew something was wrong."
He reached for the water glass by the bedside and drank before continuing. "I wasn't there more than four hours before one of my friends told me Diane was having an affair. It was somebody we both knew from school. When Diane came back on her first visit she ran into him at a friend's house and that was all it took. I tried to convince her to come back and she told me she'd think about it." Looking directly at Martha, he continued, "I left the next day. I couldn't stay in town knowing people were talking about us. A week later she called me and told me she wasn't coming back and she wanted a divorce. I didn't fight it. I felt guilty about not trying harder, but I just couldn't take any more."
"I don't see what else you could have done," Martha countered. "Angie told me you were much too hard on yourself."
Aaron smiled. "Angie. She got me through it. That was when I really started to understand what it must have been like for her when she left. It's hard when everybody you know is gossiping about you. We didn't get close until my marriage started falling apart, and I feel badly about that now."
"You shouldn't feel bad, Aaron. She thinks so much of you. And she's wonderful; I don't know what I would have done without her the last few months. I've never really thanked you the way I should have for referring her. She saved my sanity just as much as you did."
"Well, when I knew you were looking for an assistant she was the first person I thought of. I knew you'd like her." He hesitated for a moment. "I thought she was going to marry my brother for a while, we all did. It took a long time for me to figure out why they broke up."
Martha stared at him for a moment. "You mean she dated your brother?"
"Yes, ma'am, that she did. It threw Bill for a while when she left him, but he got past it, married somebody else and they're very happy." He smiled. "I know I didn't tell you that before, but it just seemed like it wasn't my business to."
"I think you were absolutely right. If I were applying for a job I wouldn't want somebody spilling my entire personal history, either." She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I'm so glad you told me all this."
Ivan Kryukov spent as much time as he could manage talking with Aaron, sometimes discussing the findings of the SVR investigation and sometimes just sharing observations about their jobs. At first Martha worried that Kryukov's comments would agitate Aaron, but soon she realized that having a chance to discuss work was therapeutic for him; Aaron was always more relaxed after their conversations.
As Aaron's strength improved, his surgeon encouraged him to get out of bed and exercise. He was initially reluctant to do this; once Kryukov happened to drop by as he was grumbling to Angie, "How am I supposed to go out there when I don't have any pants?" The next day Kryukov appeared with a track suit under his arm. "Put this on," he ordered. "We're going for a walk."
Aaron unfolded the suit, noting the Cyrillic printing across its front. "What's this?" he inquired.
"It's an FSB suit, we use them for physical training. Consider it a souvenir." Kryukov gestured toward the hall. "Come along and show my men what you Americans can do."
Escorted by Kryukov, Aaron appeared to a muted chorus of approval and clapping from the FSB agents guarding the hospital corridor. He grinned in response and set off toward the end of the hallway. As he neared his goal, Angie and Martha stepped off the elevator and he had the additional pleasure of seeing their jaws drop in surprise.
"We'll meet you back at the room when you're done," Angie said, smiling. "Oh, and I brought you that Tabasco you asked for."
After two victory laps up and down the hall, Aaron returned to his room and practically collapsed onto the bed. "I guess I'm not as strong as I thought," he gasped, putting his oxygen back on.
"You did have part of your lung removed. You need a little time to get used to it," Angie reminded him. She glanced over at Kryukov, who had picked up the bottle of Tabasco and was staring at it in puzzlement. "It's hot sauce," she explained, "something to put on your food to spice it up."
"Ah, yes, I understand. St. Basil's is supposed to have better food than average, but it is still hospital food." He glanced back to Aaron. "Well, my friend, I must go but I will see you tomorrow. We will go for another walk, longer this time." Aaron waved weakly as he left the room.
"You're quite the rock star," Angie commented. "Those guys out there were really cheering you on."
"What are they all doing here? It can't just be for me."
"They're here to show their respect. As far as they're concerned you're a celebrity. You saved their President's life, twice, and they know you're dating the former First Lady. Martha's been out there all week thanking them for their help and charming their socks off. Aaron, these guys think you're James Bond." She chuckled at the expression on his face. "Next time you go out there, shake a few hands and say hello. They'll really appreciate it."
Determined to get well as fast as possible, Aaron pushed himself to pace the hospital corridors as often as he could tolerate it, sometimes accompanied by Martha or Angie, sometimes by himself. A few days later with the assistance of the agents guarding him he tried a few short trips up and down the stairwell; hailed by an anxious nurse, his surgeon appeared shortly afterward. After checking his vital signs and oxygen level, the surgeon shrugged. "By all means, Mr. Pierce. The more you move around the better. Just promise me you'll stop if you feel faint or short of breath." He looked toward Angie and Martha. "I think he can be discharged in the next day or two. Go ahead and start making your travel arrangements."
Angie had already gone into conference with Kryukov on this matter, and with his help their plane tickets were purchased under Russian pseudonyms. "The airlines are willing to work with us," Kryukov explained. "Once we get you on the plane it will be too late for anyone to try to sabotage the flight." He also informed Jon Cardona of their impending departure via a secure line at the Kremlin, and convinced the Suvarovs to visit St. Basil's to say their farewells rather than accompany Martha to the airport, again for security reasons.
On their last morning in the Kremlin Martha and Angie were packing Aaron's things when a last-minute fax arrived. Angie gave it one glance and handed it on to Martha, who read through the first few paragraphs and looked up with a gasp. "It's from Susan. She sent my divorce papers!" She quickly scribbled her signature at the bottom of the form and handed it back. "Should I offer my congratulations?" Angie asked cautiously.
Martha drew a deep breath. "Yes, thank you."
"I'll go ahead and send this. Are you going to tell Aaron?"
After thinking it over for a moment, Martha shook her head. "I'll tell him on the plane. I don't want anything to distract him until I know we're on our way home."
Kryukov assembled a squadron of FSB agents to transport them to the Moscow airport. At the gate their goodbyes were brief but heartfelt: "I can't thank you enough for everything you've done," Aaron said, shaking hands all around. He looked at Kryukov. "Thank you for taking care of Martha."
"It was a pleasure. We should be thanking you as well, my friend. Without your actions at the Embassy, who knows how many more people would have been killed. Possibly including our President and yours." He smiled. "I have applied for the exchange program President Suvarov wants to initiate with CTU, so you may be seeing me again."
"You're welcome any time."
Aaron found the flight more exhausting than he had bargained for, and he had difficulty sitting comfortably despite the extra cushioning in first class. Sensing his weariness, Martha and Angie conferred a few hours prior to their arrival and decided the best solution was for him to spend the night at Martha's apartment. "It's closer to the airport, and I don't want you by yourself the first night out of the hospital," Martha explained. She half expected Aaron to object, but after a moment's thought he accepted gratefully. "He must really be feeling bad," Angie muttered with a worried look.
Cardona met them at the gate with a group of agents. He was his usual energetic self: "Mrs. Logan, the press knows you're back. There's a lot of reporters outside, so we're going to get you to the car as fast as we can. Don't answer any questions, it'll just slow you down. Aaron, it's great to see you. Can you make it to the car? Just stick with the other agents. We'll blend you in with the group."
"I can make it. It's good to see you, Jon."
Once in the car Angie hastily explained their decision to have Aaron spend the night at Martha's apartment. Cardona nodded in agreement. "Probably a good idea. He looks beat." By the time they arrived, Aaron was looking more fatigued every minute. "I'm giving you a pain pill and you're going straight to bed," Martha told him. "I'll be on the couch in the living room if you need me. Want me to find your pajamas?"
"I'll settle for a T-shirt." Martha handed him one and turned down the bed. "I've got to go talk to Agent Cardona. I'll see you in the morning." She kissed him and closed the door behind her.
After a few minutes' discussion, Cardona agreed to pick Aaron up at ten the next morning. Shortly afterward he and Angie left and Martha collapsed gratefully onto the couch. At first she stared across the room in a haze of fatigue, but suddenly the crystal bowl on the mantelpiece caught her eye. It had been pushed to one side from its normal position in the center. Curious, she got up to take a closer look; she suddenly noted a piece of notepaper sticking out from under the bowl and unfolded it.
Tell Charles Logan he needs to keep his mouth shut. For his sake and for yours.
Martha gasped in shock, then cursed as she dropped the paper. For a moment she panicked but forced herself to stand still rather than awakening Aaron. After a moment's thought she drew the window shades, turned on all the lights and checked the entire apartment, excepting her bedroom. Nothing else was out of place. She went back to the front door and examined it carefully, but found no evidence of forced entry. Opening the door, she beckoned to the agent in the hallway:
"Excuse me. Can you tell me if anybody was assigned to guard the apartment while I was out of town?"
"I don't think so, Mrs. Logan. I haven't been here for more than two weeks myself, that's all I can really tell you. Is everything all right?"
"Everything's fine, thank you. It's nothing, I'll talk to Agent Cardona in the morning." Martha closed the door. I can't do anything else tonight, she thought. She quickly changed into a nightgown and robe, stuck the note in her pocket and went cautiously to check on Aaron. She looked around the bedroom as well as she could by the light from the hall but again saw nothing wrong.
"Martha."
"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered. "Just checking." She sat next to him on the bed. "Do you need any water or anything?"
He smiled sleepily. "No, I'm fine." He took her hand and looked at her for a moment, suddenly more alert. "Something wrong?"
"It can wait. You need your sleep. I'll tell you in the morning." She suddenly realized he hadn't let go of her hand. They held each other's gaze for a moment longer and then he reached to the other side of the bed and turned down the covers.
