I
woke up the next morning itching to get my translation of Vlad’s meeting from the Taskforce, barely able to contain my anticipation. I went into the anteroom of our suite and saw my phone blinking. Kurt had called.
Huh. What’s up with that?
It was seven
A
.
M
.
, which meant it was midnight in the states. I dialed him back, hearing the crypto software program going through its handshake. I heard a noise that sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher. It grew stronger, and I realized it was Kurt. Yelling before the encryption took hold. When it cleared, his voice came in loud and clear, and I got an immediate earful.
“Hello? Hello? Can you fucking hear me now?”
“Yes, sir. I got you.”
“What the fuck are you doing over there? You killed the head of the Russian secret service?”
“What? Whoa . . . wait, sir. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jennifer came out in her robe, the front open and a little smile on her face from something that had happened before I’d seen the phone. She saw my expression and I waved her to the door, where our newspaper would be hanging on the other side.
Kurt said, “We just got word that the head of the FSB, Vladimir Malikov, was assassinated in Istanbul. Tell me that wasn’t you.”
What the hell?
“That wasn’t me. I swear, this is the first I’m hearing about it. We did the collection mission just like I told you, and I sent the MP3 back for translation. Nothing else. No drama.”
Jennifer had her robe closed and the Turkish paper opened, and sure enough, on the front page was a picture of Vlad the Impaler, although I’d seen him looking a hell of a lot better just hours earlier. The story said they’d found him clutching a bloodstained computer printout of a Chechen named Musa Atayev, apparently some type of spokesman for the Chechen insurgency. He’d been murdered in Istanbul in 2011, with almost everyone pointing the finger at the Russians. The paper’s conclusion reported that Vlad’s death was a revenge killing.
I didn’t believe that for a damn minute, although I hedged my bets on the phone. “The news here says he was found with the picture of a Chechen murdered in Istanbul in 2011. And the Israelis told me that Yuri—the guy who killed our men—was a member of some team called the Berlin Group that ran all over the world killing Chechen insurgent leadership. He’s done three in Istanbul alone.”
Kurt came back, still with unbridled fury. “And you want me to believe this has nothing to do with you passing off classified information to the Israeli Mossad? You talk to them about a Russian, and he conveniently ends up dead twelve hours later?”
“Sir, I’m telling you I had nothing to do with this.
Nothing
. It’s either a revenge hit, or it’s something outside my control.”
“Outside your control is what worries me.”
I said, “Sir . . . let me get back to you.”
“Okay, Pike. You send me a message as soon as you figure out what the hell is going on. For now I’m not mentioning a damn word about your plans to the Council. The news story stands until I hear otherwise.”
I said, “Thank you, sir,” but he’d already hung up. I turned to Jennifer and saw she’d heard enough of the conversation to understand. My anger was reflected in the fear on her face. Fear of what I was about to do.
I said, “Those motherfuckers. They took my information and completely ignored us. They conveniently facilitated our mission to keep us occupied while they killed Vlad.”
I was throwing on my clothes as I spoke, the anger building up. Jennifer began dressing as well, attempting to tamp down the flame.
“Pike, it looks bad, but you don’t
know
. It
might
be them. That’s all.”
I sat down and put on my boots, cinching the laces as if I were trying to garrote someone’s neck. “Bull
shit
I don’t know. Those bastards undercut us.”
She threw on her sandals, hopping on one leg and following me to the door.
“I think you should calm down. I’m sure they have their side of the story.”
I flung open the door and stalked into the hall, saying, “Let’s go hear it.”
I knew the location of at least one Israeli room from the night I’d seen the videos, and it was only two floors above me. I ignored the elevator, banging open the door to the stairwell and taking the stairs two at a time. I heard Jennifer’s sandals clacking right behind me.
I broke out into the hallway and went into a light jog, fueled forward by my sense of betrayal. I reached the door and Jennifer grabbed my arm right before I brought my fist down.
“Pike . . . stop.”
I started to rip my arm out of her grasp, pissed at her interference, when her eyes caught mine. No longer wearing the brown contacts, they were gray ice and shooting sparks.
She said, “Calm. Down.”
Anyone else, and that wouldn’t have made a shit’s worth of difference. With her, it caused a complete deflation of my anger. She slowly shook her head back and forth, and all two hundred and fifteen pounds of me turned into a bowl of Jell-O.
I fucking
hated
it.
I pulled her hand away from my arm and said, “Okay, damn it. I won’t go in swinging, but I’m going to give them a piece of my mind. Can you live with that?”
She squinted her eyes, unsure if I was telling the truth. I filed the look away, surprised and happy to realize that she didn’t understand the depths of her hold on me. I
could
bluff and get away with it.
Something to remember.
She said, “Go ahead. But you turn into an ass, and I’m taking over.”
I banged on the door, my entire attack plan decimated by some acrobatic chick I’d had the misfortune to meet a couple of years ago.
I am pathetic.
There was a flash in the peephole, and I heard the chain being removed. When it opened, I saw Aaron.
He said, “Pike. A surprise. Why are you here so early?”
I
pushed the door, throwing him back. I said, “Cut the shit. You fucking killed the head of the FSB because of information I gave you. You didn’t coordinate with me, you didn’t inform me, you didn’t do a goddamn thing but ignore me.”
I cleared the door, allowing it to close, and saw Daniel and Shoshana deeper in the room, Daniel’s arms crossed behind his back. I knew what that meant.
Aaron said, “We had no such agreement. I facilitated your operation against Yuri, and took appropriate action against a target of the state of Israel.”
“You fucking
liar
. You used me. Letting me think the operation I conducted was to facilitate a follow-on mission against Yuri. All you wanted was to get me out of the way. You had no intention of a follow-on.”
I advanced into the room and Daniel brought his arms forward, showing a Glock just like last time. Truthfully, because of Jennifer, my anger had been a little forced up until that point. A little make-believe. When I saw the weapon, it spiked again for real.
I said, “You think that thing is going to protect you?”
I looked at Aaron. “Remember what I told you about trying to harm anyone on my team?”
Shoshana seemed to realize the elevation of my anger from fake to real. Understood the terrain I was now on. She put her hand on Aaron’s arm and said something into his ear. He said, “Pike, calm down. We did what you wanted.”
I clenched my fists and said, “Bullshit, man. You did what
you
wanted. Yuri’s going to flee now. No matter what I found out from that meeting, it’s irrelevant. Best case, he would have given the details for a follow-on meeting we could interdict. That’ll never happen now.
Never
. And my damn command thinks I tricked them into letting me assassinate Vlad.”
He said, “Yuri was never my target. After your information, all my command wanted was Vlad. Sorry, but as you Americans say, they don’t call it ‘show friends.’ It’s show
business
.”
His admitting to purposely using me sparked my anger like a match touched to gasoline. I snapped toward him, drawing my arm back. I saw Daniel raising the Glock and I shifted midstride, ducking low. I wrapped my left arm over his wrist, trapping his gun hand, and swept his legs out from under him. He slammed backward into the ground and I jerked the Glock from his hand, flinging it toward the front door, my subconscious understanding that the last thing I needed was a gun in my hand.
I said, “I fucking told you who the weapon was, asshole.” And punched him square in the face, once, twice, three times. His head slapped the hardwood floor and I heard someone shout. I whirled and saw Shoshana aiming her own weapon at my head, a foot away.
Her expression was stone, showing me she intended to use it. I growled and she locked eyes with me, shaking her head slowly from side to side. We both heard a slide rack, and Aaron was forced into view, Jennifer holding Daniel’s weapon to his skull, her other hand in his hair.
Hands in the air, he said, “In all fairness, you never told Daniel you were the weapon. You told me. It’s probably my fault for not relaying.”
Shoshana looked at Jennifer and said, “Put that down. You know you won’t use it.”
I said, “You put
your
weapon down, or I’m going to shove it up your ass.”
Jennifer said, “Jesus, Pike! Stop it.” To Shoshana she said, “I’m dropping my weapon. You do what you will, but we mean no harm.”
Daniel was slowly rising from the floor, rubbing his face. Before I could stop it, she released the magazine, racked the slide, and handed the weapon to him. He took it with a look of shock.
Shoshana nodded, then dropped her weapon to her side, but didn’t clear it.
I glared at Jennifer and said, “You know I could have taken her.”
Shoshana said, “Wouldn’t help. I don’t swing that way.”
I turned and saw her smirk, proud of her ability to yank my chain. Not unlike Jennifer herself. But I also saw respect. She was at least halfway on my side.
I said, “So I understand from Jennifer. Apparently females can sort that out through telepathy.”
Shoshana gave Jennifer a sidelong glance, and the gaze aggravated the shit out of me. As she probably wanted. Jennifer saw my expression and rolled her eyes.
Aaron said, “Actually, Shoshana
is
good at that sort of thing. I don’t know how, but she found you.”
“Huh. So
me
ripping
her
off the back of a motorcycle is her ‘finding me.’ I guess that’s right in line with you not ‘fucking me over.’ Do me a favor and shut the hell up.”
Aaron held his hands up again and said, “As you wish.”
Jennifer heard the words and flashed her eyes from me to him. He saw the look and said, “What?”
I said, “Nothing, damn it.” To Jennifer I said, “Stop that. It’s a coincidence.”
The words
As you wish
held a special meaning for Jennifer and me, but I’d be damned if she was going to take the fluke and turn this into some psychic connection. I’d had enough of that with Shoshana. The whole conversation was turning into a comedy of who’s on first, and it was getting me nowhere.
I said, “Look, I ought to beat you within an inch of your life, but I’m done. You screwed me over, and you win. I got played, and you got what you wanted. We’re out of here.”
I started walking toward the door and Shoshana said, “Sort of like you tossing me into the filthy Cistern water, huh?”
Hand on the doorknob, I said, “That was just business. Yuri is personal.”
She said, “So was Vlad. Don’t stomp out of here like you lost. You screwed us over first.”
I read her eyes and saw the truth of what had happened last night. I said, “You pulled the trigger, didn’t you? And you know what I mean. I trusted you. The ghosts of my men trusted you. This isn’t just business. Of anyone, I thought you people would understand that.”
She started to utter a smart retort, but the words died on her lips after she saw the real pain on my face. She looked at Aaron. He said, “I’m sorry, Pike. I truly am. You would have done the same in my shoes.”
I opened the door and let Jennifer out. Shoshana stepped forward and said, “We don’t leave here for another day.”
Behind her, I saw Daniel glowering with his Glock and Aaron stone-faced. Not a lot of encouragement. I said, “So?”
She glanced back at Aaron and said, “So maybe you can come up with something else that’ll hit Israeli interests.”
I said, “Sure. I’d love to give you a shot at screwing me over again.”
She winked and said, “Maybe I just want another shot at Jennifer.”
The comment left me speechless, my mouth opening and closing with nothing coming out. She closed the door in my face.
Y
uri felt the wheels leave the earth and was embarrassed to realize he was relieved. Happy to have lived long enough to get on an airplane out of Istanbul after the death of Vlad.
He’d awoken this morning thinking of Akinbo and the various contingencies that could occur, the usual amount of mission planning that happened this close to execution. He’d turned on the news and literally fallen into the hotel chair at what he saw, shocked to his core. Yuri knew that if anyone else was on the target deck, he was a front-runner, and if they could get to Vlad, they were probably tracking him right now.
He’d ordered an immediate evacuation for his team, sending most on their way to Berlin, but he kept his communications expert with him in Istanbul.
He’d already given them a brief the night before, right after he’d returned from his meeting with Vlad, preparing them for the journey to Berlin. All he’d done this morning was speed up the process. Originally, he’d decided on travel by train because of the lax border crossing he’d witnessed coming from Bulgaria, which would facilitate the infiltration of their weapons and communications package into the European Union. The odds of discovery were virtually nil, since there was no chance of a Russian being selected for a random search at the Bulgarian border. Once across, they would be in the EU and not subject to another search for the rest of the trip.
He’d remained behind, telling them he’d come via commercial air later in the day. In truth, he was unsure if he would follow, even unsure if the mission was still a go after Vlad’s death, but he had to get them out of Istanbul, and Berlin was as good as anywhere else. In fact, better.
There were a few hard rules that Yuri always followed while in Istanbul—especially since his targeted killing of the Chechens two years ago. One of those was to never enter the Russian consulate because of the risk of association and the subsequent lack of invisibility, but the assassination of Vlad overcame any fear of discovery. With his Control dead, he needed to get inside to the secure communications room, and he had no illusions about ever coming back to Istanbul. It was a risk, but worth the reward.
He was granted access without incident, and, as he expected, the consulate was vibrating from Vlad’s death, with people scampering about and phones ringing. Before long, he was brought to the secure room. He closed the outer door, then entered a shielded room-within-a-room called the bubble. Using an ancient secure telephone, he dialed his old Control, but someone he didn’t know answered. After a brief conversation, he hung up, and dialed another office. Once again, he connected with an unfamiliar FSB officer. He left his name and location before disconnecting.
He exited the bubble and asked a secretary for the office Vlad was using. She directed him down the hall. He found it with little effort due to the noise coming out. He entered and saw four men digging out files and folders, stuffing them into a satchel. One turned and said, “Who are you?”
“I’m Jarilo. Vlad was my Control.”
The man stared at him for a second, then said, “And what do you want here?”
“I’m in the middle of a mission. I gave him my laptop last night. I need to get it back.”
“We’ve already been to his hotel. The only laptop was an FSB one.”
Yuri had no idea if a separate laptop existed, but thought it a good bet. Vlad’s American asset had contacted him somehow, and he assumed it was through the massive data flow of the Internet vice, something like a phone call that the NSA could suck up and trace. He was also betting that the asset was so protected that he would be firewalled from just about anything and anyone else at the FSB. Meaning a communication method air-gapped from whatever malicious eavesdropping software would surely be installed in an issued FSB computer.
Yuri said, “Have you seen one here?”
Before the man could answer, the secretary entered, meekly saying, “Jarilo? Are you Jarilo?”
“Yes.”
“You have a phone call in the bubble. Someone from the president’s office.”
The men in the room quit working at her words, the mention of the president bringing them up short. They watched him leave in silence. He retraced his steps, wondering who on earth would call him here. Hoping it was his old Control, he reentered the bubble, closed the door, and said, “Yes?”
“Jarilo?”
“Yes.”
“I understand you have lost your Control, but we want to make sure you are still working your mission. You have your orders, correct?”
“May I ask who this is?”
“No. But I speak for the president. You will continue with your mission. Understood?”
Yuri stared at the wall, unsure what to say. Unsure that the man on the other end wasn’t trying to trick him. Finally, he said, “How do I know you speak for the president? How do I know you’re even privy to the mission my last Control gave me?”
“I know all about the mission. I know your file for Barbarossa II, I know your asset is in Berlin, and I know what he’s there to collect. Don’t force me to prove it. That would be unwise.”
Yuri swallowed and said, “Yes, sir. Understood.”
“You still have your contact method with Vlad? The e-mail address?”
“Yes.”
“That is how we will communicate. Send a report every day. If I require further information, or I have a change, I will respond. Otherwise, just assume we are listening.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any other questions?”
“No.”
“Good luck.”
And Yuri heard the phone disconnect. He held the old handset for a moment, staring at it as if he would glean some further information. A relic from the cold war, it reminded him of how his life was still buried in the past. How his
country
was still buried in the past. And how he now had the means to bring it forward. Vlad’s death should have left him adrift. Instead, it made him feel whole. The future of the motherland was now his responsibility.
Before, he was but a tool. One of many working for the Russian Federation. Now, he was the master. The one man remaining who could revive Russian greatness. With the death of Vlad it rested on his shoulders alone.