“What do you mean?”
“Are your wife and Tatiana still there?”
“Yes.”
“I wish you would get them out of town. Now, tonight. Somewhere far away and safe. Yourself too. Move out. Go and live in the SOBR barracks. Please.”
There was silence for a while.
“Do you know something, American?”
“Please, General. Get out of there. While there is time.”
He put the phone down, waited awhile, and dialed another number. The phone rang on Leonid Bernstein’s desk at the Moskovsky Federal Bank headquarters. It was late at night and only a tape machine answered. Without the banker’s private home phone number, Monk could only pray that Bernstein would access his messages within the next few hours.
“Mr. Bernstein, this is the man who reminded you of Babi Yar. Please don’t go to the office, however pressing the business. I am certain Komarov and Grishin now know who is behind the shutdown of their TV exposure. You keep your family out of the country; go and join them until it is safe to return.”
He put the phone down again. Though he did not know it, a light flashed on a console in a heavily guarded house miles away and Leonid Bernstein listened to the message in silence.
The third call was to the residence.
“Yes.”
“Your Holiness?”
“Yes.”
“You know my voice?”
“Of course.”
“You should go to the monastery at Zagorsk. Get inside and stay inside.”
“Why?”
“I fear for you. Last night proved that matters are becoming dangerous.”
“I have High Mass tomorrow at the Danilovsky.”
“The Metropolitan can take your place.”
“I will consider what you say.”
The phone went down. The fourth call was answered at the tenth ring and a gruff voice said, “Yes.”
“General Nikolayev?”
“Who is ... wait a minute, I know you. You’re that damned Yankee.”
“That’s me.”
“Well, no more interviews. Did what you wanted, said my piece. No more. That’s it. Hear me?”
“Let’s keep it short. You should get out and go to live with your nephew on the base.”
“Why?”
“Certain thugs did not appreciate what you said. I think they might pay you a visit.”