If he couldn't prove it was someone else, he'd end up getting the blame. The Soviet Union was gone but the old ways of dealing with difficult internal problems were returning. In this case, blame could mean a bullet in the back of his head.
Vysotsky hoped it was an aide who was the traitor, but in his heart he knew it was one of his two bosses, Kamarov or Vishinski. It would be an unpopular accusation. He needed solid proof and he needed it soon, before the finger pointed at him.
He poured a water glass full of vodka and downed half of it and felt some of the tension leave his body. He always thought better after a drink or two. One of the reasons he'd reached his present high position within the ranks of SVR was his ability to drink and stay focused when the vodka was flowing. Others became careless, they made mistakes. Not Vysotsky.
Vysotsky considered why someone would betray his country. The usual reasons were depressingly common. Money. A woman. Anger at a slight or failure to gain recognition or promotion. Belief in another's ideology. Misguided idealism. A sense of secret power.
All of those were good reasons, if any reason for treachery was a good one. But which of those, if any, applied to his two chief suspects? Alexei took out a pad and began making a list.
Power.
Failure/anger @ system/individuals.
A woman.
Ideology/belief/idealism.
Money.
Both men had power, public and secret, and plenty of it. There was only so much power to be had and they had both gone about as far as they would. Kamarov could become Director of SVR in the event Vishinski stepped down or was removed, but that was the extent of it and was uncertain at best. Power couldn't be ruled out as a motive, but how did the theft of the plague samples further that aim? It wasn't immediately apparent. Vysotsky put a question mark next to power.
Neither man had any reason to feel slighted by the system. They had succeeded where many had failed. It was likely there was a personal grudge or two in their histories but enough of a grudge to betray the nation that had rewarded them? Vysotsky didn't think so. He drew a line through failure.
Kamarov was widowed and was not involved with anyone, as far as Alexei knew. Men like Kamarov and Vishinski were routinely surveilled. If Kamarov was seeing someone, it would have been discovered. Vishinski was married, well satisfied with a vetted mistress on the side that he kept in an elegant apartment in Moscow. Alexei crossed a woman off his list as a possible motive.
Neither man had shown the least deviation in political correctness, but such things could be kept hidden. Who knew what a man really thought? Both men were hard liners, like Alexei himself. He knew both men well and he didn't think either one would be tempted by the illusions of the West. It was unlikely, a real stretch. Vysotsky crossed off idealism as a possibility. These were not idealistic men.
That left money. Neither man had any particular problems with money. Kamarov's uncle was one of the hated oligarchs and his favorite nephew lacked for nothing. Vishinski was well off by Russian standards, even by Western ones. Their positions entitled them to many perks and benefits.
Even so, Vysotsky thought, for some there is never enough..
He decided to dig into the finances of the two men. He'd have to be careful. If they discovered what he was doing, the hammer would fall. It was the nature of life in the circles of Russian power. It had always been that way, since the days of the czars.
Alexei drained the rest of the vodka. Then he took out a lighter and set fire to the list he had just made. He dropped the burning paper in an ashtray and watched it curl and blacken.
He poured another glass. As he sipped, he had an uneasy thought. What would happen if the disease got loose? Gutenberg must know what he had and only a madman would unleash such a terrible weapon. One of the reasons the Korean lab had been raided was to take that potential out of the hands of North Korea's unstable leader. At least, that's what Vysotsky had been told. The plague was safer in Russian hands. If it added to the Federation's arsenal of bio-weapons, so much the better.
He put the thought aside. Time to begin looking for the traitor.
CHAPTER 18
Lights on the corners of Krivi's laboratory buildings cast a bright glare into the night, reflecting from the harsh white of the snow covering the grounds. There was no moon. The sky was filled with dark, unseen cloud and the scent of a coming storm lay heavy in the night air.
Nick and the others had parked a quarter of a mile away. They were dressed in black and armed with the MP-5s and pistols. The C-4 and detonators were in a pack Nick would carry once they got out of the car.
"Those lights are a problem," Nick said.
"Once we're a little closer, I can take care of that," Ronnie said.
"You got something in your bag of tricks?" Lamont asked.
Ronnie held up an odd looking device shaped like a radar gun.
"This puts out a focused EMP burst. It's simple, point and shoot. Aim at the light, and out she goes. No sound to bother anyone."
"One of Langley's toys?"
"Yup. You know, we should have our own shop for stuff like this. Harker could set it up where we practice urban targets. There's plenty of room."
The metal building across from Project headquarters was used to practice live fire against electronic targets that popped out of rooms and mock buildings and alleys at random places and intervals. The shooter had to make an instant decision. Friend or foe? It was easy to mistake a toaster or a baby for a bomb, a beer bottle for a gun. There were a lot of dead, fake civilians in that building, though there were a lot fewer than when the range had first been set up.
"'ll talk to Harker about it," Nick said. "Steph would appreciate another techie type to talk to."
He unfolded a set of plans for the ground floor of the lab and spread it out across his lap and clicked on a small flashlight. In the back seat, Lamont and Selena leaned over to look.
"This wing at the far end still looks like the best bet for entry," Nick said. He moved the light over the page.
"No windows, so no one sees us from inside. There's one exit door, on the far side away from the main entrance. Cameras on the corners. With Ronnie's gadget we can take out the cameras and the lights without knocking out the lights up front. If we're lucky, no one will notice. On the other hand, the guards will be at a monitoring station. If they're paying attention, they'll come looking to see what's up when the cameras go out."
"Rules of engagement?" Selena asked.
"It's a hard call. They may not know what's going on in there. Take them out but try not to kill them. If they start shooting, all bets are off."
"What if the samples aren't there?"
"Then we get the hell out of Dodge and come up with a new plan," Nick said. "But I'll bet they are."
"Let's get it done," Lamont said.
They pulled on black balaclavas against the cold and to conceal their faces from any cameras.
"Weapons free," Nick said.
They moved out of the car, black ghosts against the white countryside. The road was deserted. Snow was starting to fall, thick, heavy flakes that stuck to their clothes. They ran in a low crouch to the wall bordering the grounds. Ronnie settled behind the wall, pointed his EMP device at the nearest camera and pulled the trigger. He did the same to the camera on the far corner. Then he aimed at the nearest light. It went dark, with a soft pop. He followed up with the second. It went dark.