And the time would be 10 a.m. Why in the morning? He could have the phone traced and have me arrested. I need to call him from out of town.

I called Sunny at 5:30 p.m. When she answered, I said, "Bingo." She understood. "Stay dressed, we're going out to eat and celebrate. You can bathe later while I feed the dog."

"Yes sir, sounds like a good plan," she replied.

During supper I informed Sunny I needed to call from a long distance number for security reasons and she suggested Baltimore, Maryland. "You can be there in an hour. It's a straight shot from DC," she said.

My logic was that they could have a couple of cars driving around DC waiting to arrest me as soon as they traced the call. However, they could not be as readily prepared to arrest me in another city, if that was Henry Kissinger's intention. It would require a few calls on their part. In spite of protests from Sunny, I decided to stay at the hotel that night so as to get an early start. I left her house at 11 p.m., early for us.

Next morning I awoke, shaved, dressed and headed for Baltimore, figuring to stop for breakfast on the way. All the while, my mind was going over what I might say. Very little could be discussed over the phone. I had to arrange a meeting in a secure room. I had to gain his confidence.

After eating breakfast in Baltimore, I requested five dollars in change from the cashier. Locating a bank of pay phones in a shopping center near the Johns Hopkins University complex, I tested four to see if there was a dial tone. All four apparently were in working order.

I placed the call at 9:58 a.m. The operator instructed me to deposit $1.50 for the first three minutes. I heard the loud ding caused by each quarter falling. Now the phone on the other end was ringing. Once, twice, three times. Answer it, answer it, I pleaded. Then the ringing stopped and a voice with the distinctive heavy accent of Henry Kissinger said, "Hello."

"I'm calling about the '66 Jaguar."

"And who are you?" he asked.

"Could we meet somewhere and talk?" I responded.

"Not until I know who you are. You could be crazy or an assassin."

"I respect that, sir. You surely have access to a secure room at Langley. If you give me your word that I can leave after we meet, I will come in and explain our problem to you."

"You could kill me with your bare hands," he responded.

"You can handcuff me to a chair, whatever. Surely you can work out the security -- except I want only you to hear what I have to say. Secrets have a way of leaking from the CIA."

"Yes, I know," he said. "I'll see what I can setup."

"Many lives are involved, sir."

"Call me tomorrow at the same time."

"Thank you. Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

That was it. Could I trust him? I had agreed to walk into the lair of the enemy. Would they let me walk out? I had to trust that he was an honorable man. I knew Sunny thought he was.

I drove back and spent the night with Sunny, taking her out to a nice restaurant then back to her place for a wonderful evening. I was optimistic, but scared. She asked how it had gone. I simply told her it went "Okay." She fell asleep in my arms -- as usual.

The next morning I called the number from a local pay phone at 10 a.m. The heavily accented voice answered again.

"Good morning," I said.

"You were right. They have arranged a secure room at Langley for tonight."

"And I have your word that I can leave freely afterwards?"

"Yes," he answered. "I assume you are calling from a pay phone. Give me the number."

"The number is 826-1650," I replied.

"Be at this same phone tonight at 7 p.m. I'll have someone pick you up. And don't worry, I'm anxious to hear your story. You understand I must be cautious."

"Yes sir, I do."

"I'll see you tonight."

I informed Sunny about the meeting that night. She understood and did not complain, but only said, "I'll miss you, and I love you. Good luck."

I decided to take a cab to the designated pick up area and leave my car parked on a neighborhood street. The CIA might be recording license plate numbers of any cars in the area. To further simplify things I left all metal objects in my room, except for two quarters and my transmitter. The transmitter would cause me to go into alarm, but I wanted Boss to know I was checking out the CIA and performing my job. It would also help me identify myself to Henry. Going through my wallet, I removed any phone numbers and other information which were unnecessary and hid them in my room. I had stripped down to my phony identification which surely they would recognize as phony.

The cab dropped me off in front of the designated phone at 6:30 p.m. Across the street was a small corner cafe. I found a window booth and ordered coffee. It would probably be a long night. About 6:50 p.m. a large black car with tinted windows all around had made its third slow pass down the street. That's my ride. Leaving a dollar bill for the coffee and tip, I walked across the street and pretended to use the phone. The next time the car came by it slowed to a crawl, forcing other cars to pass it by on either side. God, these guys are obvious!

Okay, they saw me. They must want to make sure. The next time they headed down the street I was on the curb with my thumb up like a hitchhiker. Having a suit and tie on, I suppose they thought it was out of place for me to be bumming a ride. They stopped, one man in a suit opened the back door, got out and held the door for me without saying a word. I sat in the middle of the back seat, he returned to his window seat, and the car moved away.

Four CIA agents dressed in suits were in the car, two in the front and two in the back sandwiching me in. Not a word was uttered by anyone. Their job was transportation.

The driver made some odd turns and back tracks before entering the freeway to Langley. Undoubtedly to make sure he wasn't being followed. After exiting the freeway, we made some more obviously unnecessary turns and back tracks before arriving at an iron bar security gate manned by United States Marines. The driver's window went down a few inches, the driver flashed an identification card, the Marines saluted, the gate opened inward, and we drove into CIA headquarters. After driving around and between several buildings we turned into a down ramp that led under a building to an underground parking lot, and parked in a spot by an elevator under a sign which read "RESERVED."

They led me inside into a small room which had one table and an obvious three by six foot see through mirror and ordered me to empty the contents of my pockets on the table, which I did. They began to place everything into a plastic bag as I reached for the small square that was my transmitter.

"The man I'm meeting will need to see this," I said. Without a word, the agent picked up the object and held it up to the mirror. A voice from nowhere said, "Bring it in." He went through a door on the wall with the mirror, leaving me in the small room alone. After a few minutes, a voice spoke again through the small speaker, which I now saw was imbedded in the ceiling.

"I'll see that the person you're meeting gets this. He'll decide what to do with it. Okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine," I answered.

The search agent came back in, and after searching my shoes and clothes for any plastic objects, allowed me to put my pants, shirt, and socks back on. He retained my shoes, belt, coat, and tie; placing them in a large clear plastic bag. A buzzer now buzzed and the thick door at the end of the room opened and I was allowed to enter. After going through several more layers of security, I ended up in a room approximately ten by fifteen feet with a heavy wooden table in its center and two chairs, one at each end of the table.

The room was split in two halves by a clear plastic wall which was molded around the middle of the table. On his side of the plastic wall divider was some type of air conditioner or circulation system installed in the ceiling. The heavy wooden chair on my side of the table was bolted to the floor and had four metal locking leg cuffs, two at each ankle location and two higher up on the thighs, so once locked in, I would not be able to stand up. There were no arm shackles.

A few minutes after I was strapped in, the door against the far wall opened and there he was, Henry Kissinger. "Good afternoon. Do you approve of our security precautions?" he asked.

"Very impressive," I replied. "What purpose does the plastic divider serve? I'm strapped into the chair."

"Ah, but your hands are free. You could have some sarin nerve gas or other agent hidden which you could throw on me. It only takes a drop, you know," he said as he placed my transmitter and that of the late J66 on his side of the table.

"How secure is this room?" I asked. "Are others listening in? Are we being taped or filmed?"

"Not yet. I'll make you a proposition. I don't know who you are or what you're about. I don't have time to waste trying to decide whether you will be lying or not. You must understand that would require more manpower to check out your story, thus necessarily involving others. If you'll agree to accept an injection before we begin talking, I'll agree to not record or let others hear. It's not sodium pentothal, it's even better. You'll feel great, and I'll know you are telling the truth. If your desire is to be truthful, you shouldn't object."

"Then I have no objections."

At that he snapped his fingers to the mirror and a man in a suit entered carrying a small thin hinged box. The box contained a hypodermic needle. Rolling up my left sleeve and tying a rubber tubing around my upper arm, he instructed me to, "Make a fist."

I made a fist, causing the veins to bulge out in my tied off left arm. He felt them with two fingers. Finding one he liked, he swabbed some alcohol over the vein. Holding the syringe up to his eyes, he pushed on the plunger until a small amount of liquid shot out of the needle. Then reaching down he pushed the needle into the selected vein and pulling the plunger back, a small amount of blood mixed with the clear liquid. Now he started injecting the liquid into my vein, and at the same time he reached up with his left hand and released the tubing. Before half of the liquid was in, I was flying high. This stuff is great! By the time he pulled the needle out and again rubbed alcohol over the injection, I was really flying. I put my fingers up and felt the pulse in my neck. My heart was beating like a machine gun.

"You were right, this stuff is great," I said.

"Yes. It gives one a rush initially. Your heart will settle back down after a few minutes. So, tell me about yourself. What are these transmitters all about?"

Under the influence of the drug, I talked my head off for about three hours. I explained to him the origin of the Doubles, our naming scheme, why no one but Z99 knew our faces, our implanted tracking devices, and showed him the scar tissue where I had cut mine out so I could kill J66. Then explained the Soyuz 11 disaster and the gray matter, the swine flu plot, and my attempt to stop it by killing J66 and sending his transmitter to the American Embassy and thus the CIA. How that effort had failed, and why I had selected him for help because he could talk directly to the president and he was a member of the National Security Council.

I explained my present assignment was to assassinate the already dead J66. I would need his transmitter back if he believed me as proof that my mission had been successful. He said he would arrange it as they had dissected it and had all the information they needed. They were mostly impressed with the battery, he said.

He asked me what if anything we could do to be prepared for the first stage of the project which was scheduled for February. I promised to warn him if I found out the definite target. Otherwise, without alarming anyone, have medical supplies loaded in a plane ready for takeoff when the induced epidemic strikes.

Until further notice I could call him at the same number. If he wasn't there he would leave a recorder connected to the phone so that I could leave a message.

"Eventually, President Ford will have to be advised as well as Premier Brezhnev," I said, "but we're not at that point yet. Since I'm chief of security on the project, I expect to be involved in smuggling the gray matter into the country. Until then we'll just have to live with limited outbreaks and the fewer people who know -- the better. You know how difficult it is to keep things secret. If we stop the plot without capturing the gray matter, it'll still be around for some future terrorist. We need both the plotters and the gray matter. We have determined it will kill in four to six weeks in a one part per million solution. Death appears to be from pneumonia. The gray matter is undetectable by any existing tests, and the gray color is invisible at one part per million."

He finally interrupted my drug induced marathon speech by asking the one question I did not want to answer.

"Who slipped me the envelope?" he asked.

I paused, then replied, "A friend, but she knows nothing about what the note said or about the plot." That was stupid I thought, I identified the friend as a she.

"And does this friend have a name?" he continued to pry.

I bit my tongue until it bled in an effort not to answer the question, but the drug won out. Realizing I would have to answer truthfully, my reply was, "Yes, but no one needs to know it. You and I both know that after this mess is over, the final step will be a cleanup. Anybody that knows anything which could embarrass either country will be permanently silenced. She knows nothing and will continue to know nothing. If you insist on knowing names I won't work with you."

Seeing the blood on my lip, he realized my predicament and did not press the issue. I would have bitten my tongue off before implicating Sunny.

"Okay, settle down. I had to ask in case I had a security problem. I can't let just anybody have access to my mail. Letter bombs, you know."

There was a long pause as I wiped my lip and thought I had dodged that bullet. Then he asked, "You love her, don't you?"

After another pause, I looked him squarely in the eyes and answered firmly, "Yes sir." He was a very intelligent man.

By the time the CIA returned me to the drop-off site it was 1 a.m. It took another thirty minutes to catch a cab and return to my car. While in the cab I watched out the rear window to assure myself we were not being followed the old fashioned way. Since we were not, that meant a tracking device had been placed in some item of clothing which had been out of my sight. They were only doing their job but I was prepared for this circumstance.

In a cardboard box in my car was a complete change of clothes. On the box was already printed "Salvation Army." I immediately drove to the Greyhound Bus Station and saw that the next departing bus was in twenty minutes with a final destination of New York City.

Rushing into a rest room stall with my cardboard box of clothes, I swapped every piece of clothing which had been out of my sight at the CIA with the corresponding items in the box. This included my shoes, belt, tie, coat, et cetera. Adding "New York City" to the address on the box, I taped it shut.

I paid to send the box to New York City and made sure it was loaded on the bus. Then just for fun, I waited in the shadows as the bus began its journey. Sure enough, a large car with tinted windows pulled in behind the bus when it was about four blocks down the street. Later, Secretary Kissinger laughed as he informed me I had become a strain on the CIA's travel budget.

It was 2 a.m. by the time I returned to my hotel room. My transmitter was in my right pocket and J66's was in my left.

I pulled out my transmitter and marked an 'X' on both sides of the plastic casing with a pencil. They were probably identical, but just in case they were somehow different for each Double, I did not want to mix them up and turn in mine as J66's. The CIA had cleaned all flesh particles and blood from J66's transmitter. I pulled J66 out of my left pocket and placed the transmitters two inches apart on the nightstand. It was 2:50 a.m. I covered the two transmitters with the circular sheet of lead, noting they needed to be uncovered forty minutes later at 3:30. Boss should see my signal tomorrow when he reviewed today's transmissions.

I was startled when the phone rang at 3:00 a.m. It was Sunny. She had been calling every half-hour because she was worried about me. "I'm fine," I assured her. "Everything went very well. I'm going to be leaving for Europe soon for a short while. We'll talk about it tomorrow night, okay?"

She was disappointed, but said "Okay."

"It's work related. Thank you for being concerned about me."

"Oh, believe me it's selfish. It's because I love you so much. I never want to be without you. Promise me nothing bad will happen to you."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow night. I love you more than anything. Go to sleep, you have to work tomorrow. Incidentally, I was very impressed with your boss. He's a good man. Now, good night, I love you."

"I love you, too."

At 3:30 I removed the lead from over the two transmitters and went to bed, hoping the message would be noticed. Boss would certainly schedule a review meeting to announce the death of J66 as an example to the others and perhaps I could find out more about how the plot was advancing.

Thursday evening I was petting Rommel as Sunny arrived home from work. She ran into my arms and we kissed for awhile. God, she felt good in my arms. Later that night I explained that we needed to have a talk about the near future. A worried look came over her face but I assured her it was so she would not have to worry. I informed her about my trip to Europe in a few days on business. It could be for a period of two to six months. There might be a problem contacting her because I would be behind the iron curtain. But I would definitely be back for several weeks and would then have to make one last trip overseas and the project would be over.

My real thoughts were that I had to take J66's transmitter back and find out what was going on. Then come back to set up a way for Boss to smuggle the gray matter into the United States, intercept Boss and the gray matter, and return to Russia to name names and explain what had been attempted and averted. I would then disappear from the USSR and come back for Sunny. At most this would be six to nine months because the start of the 1976 flu season was nine months from now. It would be a lonely Christmas and New Years without her, but it had to be done.

"Do you have a safe deposit box at a bank?" I asked.

"No," she replied.

"I want you to get one in your name large enough to hold a shoebox. Here's a hundred dollars."

"What's the box for?" she asked.

"I have a present for you. I'll bring it over tomorrow. You earned it. I thought about taking you somewhere this weekend. Maybe Jamaica, Cozumel, or Acapulco. But now that my business here is over, that would look suspicious. Some day we'll travel around the world together."

The next night I brought over a shoebox full of money. It was the remains of the $100,000 that was in my arrival locker for this assignment. I had only spent about $5,000 and I kept several thousand for my return trip to Russia.

"Here's what the safe deposit box is for," I said while handing her the shoebox.

"Oh, my God," she exclaimed as she opened the box.

"It's about ninety grand," I continued. "It was for me to use as bribes or other expenses to fulfill my mission. You helped me, so consider it yours. Don't deposit it, or the government will get suspicious. Spend it out of the box as cash payments. Use some to buy yourself tickets to Arizona for Christmas and New Years. You don't need to stay here all alone."

"This is scary," she said. "What type of business are you in?"

"A type I plan to be out of by the end of the year. Believe me, I don't get paid enough for my services, but I've made adequate preparations for my early retirement."

"What will happen to us when you retire?" she asked.

"I hope you'll retire with me. If things work out we can do pretty much as we please."

"Can I bear your children?"

Wow, that struck me like a bolt of lightning. I was so preoccupied with little things such as saving the world, the thought had never occurred to me.

"You want to have my children? Like half me and half you?" I asked stupidly.

"Of course I do. Nothing would please me more. I love you. Don't you want to?"

After a noticeable pause and seeing a concern in her eyes, I pulled her into my arms saying, "I would be honored to have you bear my children. I want to have all girls. Yes, reproduce beautiful little girls, just like you; so someday they can make some fool as happy as you make me."

"No, I want boys. And I want you to train them and raise them up to be real men, like you. Handsome, strong, loving, and considerate of women."

"Are we having our first argument?" I laughed. "Anyway, destiny will determine those decisions. But I definitely want girls."

The next three days we made passionate love together at every opportunity -- knowing it might be months before we met again. Then, after placing my weapon, silencer, and other unused equipment in the designated lockers, I departed on my return trip to Russia. It was difficult for both of us. Rommel sensed something was wrong. My heart still said take her and run away to a deserted island, but my mind knew I had to follow this through.

Upon my arrival at Sheremetyevo International Airport in Moscow, I went straight to my latest communications drop. Sure enough, there was a note with, "Call me upon your arrival at 12 noon," and a phone number written on it. Another note contained the address of my next communications drop.

As ordered, I called the number at 12 noon. Boss answered and after hearing it was me said, "Congratulations on a job well done. Now that you're back I'll set up another meeting with every available agent. Be watching your new communications drop for the details. Again, congratulations."

My heart felt empty -- no Sunny tonight.