The 14th Colony: A Novel Read Free

too.”
    He saw resolve in John Paul’s strong eyes, which seemed ready for the fight. He was, too. At seventy-one he’d never felt better. His whole countenance had revivified after the assassination attempt, as if he’d truly been born again. He’d read what the pundits were saying. Expectations for his presidency seemed low. In past decades, the sheer weight of the job had annihilated many good men. Kennedy died. Vietnam drove Johnson from office. Nixon had been forced to resign. Ford lasted only two years, and Carter was sent home after one term. Critics called Ronald Reagan a reckless cowboy, an old actor, a man who relied on others to tell him what to do.
    But they were wrong.
    He was a former Democrat who’d long ago switched parties, which meant he did not fit into any clear political mold. Many feared and distrusted him. Others held him in contempt. But he was the fortieth president of the United States, intent on remaining in office seven more years, and he planned to use that time for one purpose.
    To end the evil empire.
    That was exactly what the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics represented. But he could not do it alone. Nor would he have to. He now had an ally. One with two thousand years of experience dealing with despots.
    “I’ll keep the pressure on from my end,” he said. “Both political and economic. And you from yours with spiritual encouragement. Another trip to Poland would be good, but not quite yet. In a year or so.”
    John Paul had already visited his homeland once, in 1979. Three million people came to mass in Warsaw’s Victory Square. As a candidate for the White House he’d watched that spectacle on television, while the man in white descended from the papal plane and kissed the ground. He remembered vividly what the pope told his countrymen over and over.
    Be not afraid.
    And he realized then what the religious leader of a billion people could accomplish, particularly one who held the hearts and minds of millions of Poles. He was one of them. They would listen to what he had to say. But the pope could never be obvious. Instead, the message from Rome must always be one of truth, love, and peace. There is a God and it is everyone’s inalienable right to freely worship Him. Moscow would ignore that at first, but eventually it would respond with threats and violence and the startling contrast between the two messages would speak volumes. And while that happened America would encourage reform in the Eastern Bloc, finance free-market reforms, and isolate the Soviet Union both economically and technologically, slowly but surely leading them into bankruptcy. They would play to the paranoia and fear communism loved to exploit in others, but could not handle on its own.
    A perfect two-front war.
    He checked the clock.
    They’d been talking about fifty minutes.
    Each seemed to clearly understand both the task and their individual responsibilities. Time for the final move. He stood and extended a hand across the table.
    The pope likewise rose to his feet.
    He said, “May we both successfully carry out our responsibilities to mankind.”
    The pope nodded and they again shook hands.
    “Together,” he said. “We will eliminate the USSR.”

CHAPTER ONE
    L AKE B AIKAL , S IBERIA
    F RIDAY , J ANUARY 18
    3:00 P.M.
    Bitter experience had taught Cotton Malone that the middle of nowhere usually signaled trouble.
    And today was no exception.
    He banked the plane 180 degrees for another peek downward before he landed. The pale orb of a brassy sun hung low to the west. Lake Baikal lay sheathed in winter ice thick enough to drive across. He’d already spotted transport trucks, buses, and passenger cars speeding in all directions atop milky-white fracture lines, their wheel marks defining temporary highways. Other cars sat parked around fishing holes. He recalled from history that in the early 20th century rail lines had been laid across the ice to move supplies east during the Russo-Japanese