Ghosts of War (13 page)

S
hoshana grabbed the purse she'd purchased in Georgetown and slung it over her shoulder, attempting to mimic Jennifer. Honestly, it was humorous watching her trying so hard to act normal when I knew as soon as she left the room, she'd be scanning for threats. She was incapable of leaving the red zone of awareness.

Jennifer said, “Let's go see if we can find a wig. Or maybe an apron for working in the kitchen.”

Shoshana nodded, not even getting the joke. Jennifer shook her head and I said, “You've got your work cut out for you.”

The door closed and I turned to Aaron, saying, “Okay, secret agent man, what's up?”

Behind him the television was tuned to a breaking news story from the BBC. Before he could answer, I pointed and said, “What's going on?”

He glanced at the TV and said, “Terrorist strike in Belarus. They hit Russian assets, and Putin's starting to rattle sabers.”

I watched for a second, then lost interest. If it were like every other news story on terrorism, whatever they were reporting right now would be proven false later. Better to just wait until the smoke cleared. I sat down and said, “Let's have it.”

Aaron rotated to me, flinching a little bit from his wound. I said, “You sure you're okay?”

“Yes. It'll hurt for a while, but I'm fine. I've been shot before, but this does bring up an interesting dilemma for me.”

“What?”

“My employer wants me to pursue. They want the Torah. Unfortunately, I would be less than the ideal candidate because of my injuries. And Shoshana is burned.”

“We had on balaclavas last night. Nobody recognized us.”

“I was a bit circumspect with regard to Mikhail and Shoshana, out of deference to her. Their relationship is, to put it mildly, a little bit more than a work disagreement.”

“Which means?”

He said, “Can I trust you to be discreet?”

“Yes, of course. Come on. This isn't the sixties, with me sipping martinis and playing baccarat. Your spies are the ones that always steal from us. What?”

“First, you need to know I will not put Shoshana in a position where her . . . shall we say, less stellar emotions come into play. That happened last night, and I don't want it to happen again.” He paused, then, as if it was the great reveal, he said, “She is special to me.”

I laughed and said, “I got that. I know.”

He looked at me, and I realized I'd missed his point. He said, “You told me a story about Bosnia once. Where Jennifer risked all to save you when she was but a neophyte. My story is different. Shoshana was used by our intelligence services to kill, and she was good at her trade. She was given to me as a castaway. We did a mission once, in South America. We were tracking a suspected Nazi camp guard from Auschwitz, and she was a handful.”

He shook his head and said, “Long story short, she didn't care about anything but the mission. We got into some serious trouble, and I should be dead. But I wasn't because of her. She dragged me through miles of jungle because, in her words, she ‘saw something in me.' And now I'm alive. I owe her my life, and I will protect her because of it.”

I nodded, realizing I was hearing something that had never been spoken. I said, “Okay, I'm with you. I like her, too.”

He laughed and said, “You and she are connected in a way that I can't explain. And neither can she. Did I tell you it was her idea to bring you in?”

I shook my head.

He said, “Well, she did, but I held something back about the man in the castle. She wasn't on a single mission with him. He was her team leader, and he was a devil. His chosen form of catching terrorists was setting them up with her. She slept with them, and he killed them at their most vulnerable. You know about her ability to read people, right?”

I leaned back and held up a hand, saying, “Yeah, yeah. She's psychic.”

He chuckled and said, “I won't push, because I know you believe. Yes, she can read a person's heart. And Mikhail killed a man that she was convinced was innocent. He covered it up, and it was easy to do. The target was Palestinian. The same problem happened again, on a different target, and she refused. She broke up the operation, and then, when he tried to burn her for it, calling her a traitor, she spilled everything she knew about his side income. It ended badly, for both of them. He was booted from the Mossad, and she was permanently twisted, losing the ability to trust.”

He shook his head and said, “Honestly, she was probably twisted before then, after the way they used her.”

I didn't know what to say to that, so I let it ride, waiting.

He said, “She's damaged, but she's come far from those days. She used to be an absolute killer, devoid of emotion.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Now she's still a killer, but she's looking for something else. Beginning to believe she can have something else. I don't want her to backslide, and Mikhail will cause it. She hates him to the core of her being. I cannot have her involved in the operation I've been directed to do. She simply can't accomplish it.”

I took that in, then said, “Which is what, exactly?”

“I told you. They want us to retrieve the Torah. And I could use your help to do that.”

I snapped a leg out, kicking the table. “Bullshit. That fucking Torah may have been something to send you two
contractors
after, in a backwater way, but no way are they pursuing it that strongly. If it's so big, why not send in an active-duty team? Why keep you guys on a string? Quit fucking with me. Or I'm done.”

Aaron remained still at my outburst. I knew him to be an honest man, and I trusted him, so I waited instead of storming out of the room.

He said, “Okay. I'm not exactly sure what they want. They're using the Torah as an excuse for my mission, but it
is
odd. My opinion? They want to keep tabs on Mikhail without devoting resources. Without risking anyone.”

“You mean without risking anyone from Israel. Because risking Grolier Recovery Services is perfectly fine.”

He smiled and said, “Yes. That's what I mean. But there's something else that might interest the United States. The man in charge of the operation is a Russian Jew named Simon Migunov, and he's very, very powerful. He's one of the most powerful organized crime bosses in the entire world, and he's on your FBI's Ten Most Wanted list.”

“I'm not in the FBI. I don't do arrests.”

He stood and went to the minibar, pulling out a water bottle. He said, “I very well know your skills. Making arrests certainly isn't one of them, but manhunting is, and if I'm to continue with my employer, I have to accept this mission. I can't accept without help. I'm asking you for that. Warts and all.”

“Warts and all? Really? You're asking me to act on behalf of the Israeli government as an American citizen. Christ, I'm not even Jewish.”

“I'm not asking out of religion or nationality. I'm asking out of friendship. Isn't that deeper than the other two?”

“Friendship? Bullshit. You're asking because you can't do it
without
my help. You've played me from the beginning.”

He took a sip of water, then locked eyes with me. “Yes, I did, because I knew you wouldn't do it otherwise, but I also knew you wanted to. We are not that different. We live for the mission, but we want to believe. Want to sleep at night knowing that what we did was for the greater good. Yes, I tricked you, but I did so with your full knowledge.”

He set the bottle on the counter and with his back to me he said, “Look, if I don't do this, I'll lose future contracts, and unlike you, I can't go flitting off to some archaeological dig to pay the bills, but it's about more than money.”

He turned and said, “You love Jennifer, do you not?”

The question was abrupt, and rude. Like a shot of water thrown in my face. Truthfully, while I had an answer, I wasn't willing to voice it.

He saw the emotion crawl across my face and, with a look of understanding, said, “I don't expect a response. Your partner, Jennifer, knows right from wrong. Shoshana is still learning. She studies you and Jennifer not as a joke. She really thinks it's helping. I won't disclose our conversations, but rest assured, I'm not asking for my
business
. I'm asking for
her
. She looks up to you two unlike anything I've ever seen.”

I didn't want to hear those words. It was unfair.

I said, “Okay, okay. Even if I said yes, we don't have enough men. You don't even have a start point.”

He became energized at my halfhearted pushback. “Yes, I do. Simon is in the capital of Slovakia right now. We have his address. We believe he's planning on selling the artifacts within a week. All we need to do is interdict the shipment. The gold is a side note. They want the Torah. And yes, they probably want to know what the hell Mikhail and Simon are up to. The two together are not good for the Israeli
image, so to speak. We get the Torah back, and report what we've seen. That's all. An expendable operation, at the end of the day.”

“Expendable. Man, I love hearing that word.”

“Look, we'll have full support of the Mossad. I can get technical kit, weapons, and intelligence support. We won't be alone.”

I said, “No, we won't, because I'm not doing this without sanction from my higher. Let me get permission to get Knuckles over here. Get him in the game.”

He held up a hand and said, “Wait. I talked to you with discretion. No way can I have you bring this up to your command.”

I said, “My command no longer exists. Let me talk to my boss. He's a good man. I won't give out specifics. I'll just ask for Knuckles. Tell him I'm working with you—he knows you, he's the one that gave you the medals for Brazil—and tell him I'm working something important. Let me get a blessing from him, and I'll be a go.”

“How on earth are you going to get his blessing without telling him what you're doing?”

I said, “The guy is on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted list. That'll hold some weight.”

Aaron shook his head and said, “No, it won't. If it did, they'd have dedicated assets to him much earlier. He's not hard to find.”

I smiled and said, “You're exactly right, but we have one other ace in hand.”

I pointed at the television, the newscaster talking about mobilizing Russian forces. “If I were to guess, Kurt's probably begging for a way to get someone close to that shit.”

S
imon took a sip of wine and said, “Fabulous view, don't you agree?”

Never wanting to put his back to a door, Mikhail had to crane his neck around, catching the sparkling lights of the Bratislava Castle reflecting off the Danube River five stories below.

The restaurant was situated in the middle of a bridge that spanned the river. Slapped high above on iron girders like the Seattle Space Needle, the eating area was a saucer-shaped capsule with three hundred sixty–degree glass views. It was called, appropriately enough, the UFO restaurant.

Mikhail said, “Yes, it's beautiful, but I'd rather not discuss the view.”

Simon grinned and said, “So it wasn't the easy operation you envisioned.”

“Someone else came for the gold. And it can only be the Israelis.”

“How do you know?”

“I don't. They got away, and they were wearing hoods. I never heard them speak. But the coincidence with the visit earlier for the Torah is too stark.”

“What is the fallout from the police?”

Mikhail shrugged and said, “They're treating it like a break-in for art. They don't want anyone to know that they lied about the train, so it's not even being mentioned. The official story is the robbery was interrupted, and nothing was taken.”

Simon laughed and said, “You really have to love the duplicity of governments. Makes it easy. You have the trunks here?”

“Yes, although I'm not sure why you chose Bratislava.”

“The Albanians run things here. I couldn't go anywhere connected to my old haunts. I'd last five seconds. You saw the news. Belarus is in play, which means I'm no longer needed. No, it's safer here than Moscow.”

“You don't think Putin can find you here?”

“Oh, he can find me. I'm sure he's already looking, but it's a reach and he has his hands full right now. Once he's committed to a full-fledged war, I'll be safe forever. Where are the goods?”

“I have a contact here. Runs a diamond wholesaler, right down this bridge in the pedestrian shopping area. He's got enough safe capacity to ensure protection.”

“Pedestrian area? The part of town locked down for vehicles? Can you get a car in there? I don't want to walk up the street dragging a suitcase.”

“Don't worry about it. He's got an armored truck that he uses. He has passes to enter the area. You just tell me where it needs to go and when. I'll do the rest.”

Simon did so, passing him a card with an address and saying, “I'm sure the content will be complete, correct? Not that I'm questioning.”

Mikhail said, “Yeah. It's complete, with the exception of the Torah. I've taken that as payment.”

“Good enough. But I can get that brokered as well, if you'd like. I can get you a great price.”

“I told you, I have a buyer in Austria. I've already shipped it there. It's waiting on me and my buyer.”

“Fine, but I have a few more tasks for you to earn the right to sell it.”

“What now? Your Russian lunatics from the Night Wolves are already in Ukraine. Fire and forget.”

“I need to guarantee NATO loses their minds. Swiftly. This strike may be enough, but I need to be sure. I'm in contact with a man from Russia. He's been trying to sell radioactive material in Moldova to
various Islamic groups and had his little operation broken up by the authorities. He escaped, and now he's desperate. He knows he's holding something that's hot as hell—pardon the pun—and growing more and more worthless. I want you to buy it from him.”

“Plutonium? Is that it? What crazy idea do you have now? A dirty bomb?”

Simon smiled and said, “Yes. Well, it's actually a small bit of uranium, and it will cause enough panic to overcome any restraint from NATO. Especially when we leave evidence that a former security agent from Russia sold it to the Night Wolves. Of course, Kirill doesn't need to be privy to that little bit of information.”

The waiter arrived and Mikhail waved him away, leaning over the table when the man had moved beyond earshot. “Simon, you have lost your fucking mind if you think I'm going to be involved in setting off a dirty bomb on the European continent.”

Simon glanced around at the outburst, then leaned forward with some heat of his own. “Sit back.
Now
. You forget where you come from.
I'm
the one who picked you up when nobody wanted you. I'm the one who made you in this business. I'm the reason you aren't eating out of a garbage can when everyone else said you were a thief. Nobody would hire you after you were let go.
I
did.”

Simon sat back, his expression relaxing, and took a sip of wine. He glanced around the room. Nobody was paying any attention to them. He said, “This purchase isn't a real dirty bomb. I'm not asking you to kill massive amounts of people. He's got so little of it, it won't do anything but trigger the radiac meters and cause massive panic. Something to guarantee I won't have to worry about President Putin tracking me down. I need you to get it from him and deliver it to the Night Wolves. And
then
we'll be done.”

Mikhail took that in, understanding the power Simon held and the veiled threats of pushing back. Even as a hunted man, he was still the alpha wolf. Mikhail said, “What will they do with it?”

“They'll take it to Poland. A final attack against NATO interests. It'll pollute nothing more than some American aircraft. But it'll be enough.”

“You don't need to do this. The next attack will be enough.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I want to be prepared. You still have contact with Kirill?”

“Yes. I still have his number. If he isn't dead.”

“He's not. He's a survivor, and has been forever. Where is he?”

“Shit, who knows? If I had to guess, just watch the television. The next big news story will be a Western Tornado or Falcon blown out of the sky.”