“Tell me about her,” I said, giving him more of that smile.
None of Yuri’s communication with Gadyuka was ever done via the Net or over a phone. That’s what we thought. In a high-tech world, some security protocols are going very low-tech. There was no footprint at all, no trail to follow. These people were, after all, world-class cyber warriors who were fully cognizant of all ways the CIA, the NSA, and shady organizations like the Department of Military Sciences could follow even small threads and counterattack. It was a sensible blend of caution, paranoia, and plausible deniability that left us nothing actionable, nothing we could bring to the U.N. or a world court.
Rolgavitch’s involvement was clearly on a pretty low level, and it corresponded with what Nikki had learned. His company handled the logistics of shipping items manufactured at a number of companies. Most of the materials he shipped for Gadyuka came from a company called Pushkin Dynamics. Rolgavitch said that he had never visited that factory, and knew the contents only through the manifests which he was provided. He was notified when a “special order” was ready. He never called Gadyuka and had no numbers with which to do so, anyway. When she needed to talk to him she showed up. Never at the office. She might suddenly be standing next to him on a train platform or walk up to him on the street. She always looked different, too. Sometimes very tall, other times average height. Heavy or thin. Well dressed or shabby, looking fifty or forty or thirty. A real chameleon. Even the timbre of her voice changed, as well as her accent. Bottom line, Rolgavitch couldn’t tell me anything about her except her gender and code name.
So, I asked the obvious question. “How can you be sure it wasn’t a bunch of different women using the same code name?”
He looked at me and shivered. “No,” he said quickly. “If you ever saw her, you’d know it was her. She’s… she’s…”
“Pick an adjective,” I suggested.
“She’s not human. She’s a snake. Like her name. No matter how she’s described, the feeling is the same.” He shivered again.
“What kind of orders does Gadyuka give you?”
He gave his lips a nervous lick. “Mostly she contacts me about when and where to ship materials… and before you ask again, no, I really don’t know what kind of materials. Everything is boxed and sealed with the kind of tape that changes color if it’s been tampered with. I make arrangements and that’s all. I’m not important enough to know more. I’m a middleman.”
I slid off the desk, nudged Ghost out of the way, and squatted down in front of Rolgavitch. I smiled my best blue-eyed smile. “Here’s the problem, tovarisch. I’m running out of time and I don’t think you’re telling me everything you know.”
“I have answered all of your questions,” he said. “Please, please, don’t hurt my wife, my kids.…”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, “but you see, our problem is that maybe I don’t know the right questions to unlock you. I’m admitting that. I’m up front about that. But it kind of pisses me off. It’s frustrating and it makes me feel bad. Cranky. That’s an English word. Cranky. It means that I’m getting out of sorts and I’m about to go all peevish and petulant.”
He said nothing.
“My instincts tell me two things, Yuri,” I told him. “Want to know what they are? The first is that you probably know something really useful that would put a happy smile back on my face. No need to say anything, because we both know it’s true. And the second thing my gut tells me is that if I put a bullet through one of your kneecaps, you’ll tell me. It’s what we call a ‘come to Jesus moment.’ If I put bullets through both of your kneecaps you’ll beg to tell me. But then there will be all that blood, all that screaming, and it would spoil this happy moment we’re currently having, am I right?”
He stared at me like I was a complete monster.
Still holding the gas dart gun in my right hand, I used my left to remove his own automatic from my belt. I placed the barrel against the front of his right knee.
“This will really hurt, Yuri. I can assure you that even with a total knee replacement you’ll never walk right again. From this angle, the bullet will take off a chunk of the femur and maybe furrow all the way up and clip your femoral artery. Depending on the load in the bullet, it might even punch a big red hole through one of your nuts. Bet that would hurt.”
He was crying now. And his nose was running. His whole face looked like it was going to disintegrate. I pressed the barrel harder against his knee.
“Now… tell me something that will put a smile back on both our faces.”
He sobbed. A bigger, heavier, deeper sob than before. It shook his body. I did not blink or change my expression. If he saw madness and horror in my eyes, then he was seeing into a part of me where the Killer lived. Of the three people in my head, the Modern Man was a civilized and compassionate person; the Cop was the rational and pragmatic aspect that usually drove the bus. The Killer was neither civilized nor compassionate. He was in that dark evolutionary space between lizard brain and monkey mind. He was ugly and vicious, utterly pragmatic, and uncompromising. I seldom let him out to play, because when I did, very, very bad things happened. Each time I let him out he was more reluctant to go back to his cave. I could feel him behind my eyes and, worse, behind my smile. That is not a smile I would ever show to my Junie, or even to my best friend, Rudy. It is not a smile I ever show to anyone whose life I care about.
Yuri Rolgavitch saw the Killer, and when his eyes cut toward Ghost he saw something behind my dog’s eyes as well. He saw the wolf. A primitive version, maybe a dire wolf; old and patient and merciless.
I said, “Tell me about the things you ship. From where, to where? All of it.”
He started talking Pushkin Dynamics. That was where the shipments came from. He said he’d once heard one of the technicians there use the phrase “deep silence.” It wasn’t said to him, but was part of a whispered conversation he overheard. It made him believe that whatever was being manufactured and shipped from that place was connected to that project.
Rolgavitch sold all of this to me hard. He kept looking into my eyes, kept catching glimpses of the Killer. That was good. It kept him honest. It loosened his tongue.
But… he just did not know enough. Finally, he sagged back, shaking his head, begging me to believe that it was all he could tell me.
“What do you know about what Valen did in the United States?” I asked, purposefully not mentioning D.C. Rolgavitch frowned and looked genuinely confused. “I did not know he was in America. The last time I heard from him he was in Greece.” He paused, reading my face. “You must believe me. This is all I know.”
I studied him, read his eyes, and saw the truth.
“I believe you,” I said.
And shot him.
CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
Church visited Sam Imura and lingered for a while, carefully reading the postsurgical reports that had been prepared for him. The doctors were not optimistic, but that was to be expected.
Church placed his hand flat over Sam’s heart and felt the beat. He closed his eyes and was like that for a long time. Brick stood outside and made sure no one came in.
“Peace, little brother,” said Church as he withdrew his hand.
He turned and left the room. He and Brick walked four rooms down, to where Aunt Sallie lay.
“Give me a moment,” he said. Brick touched Church’s arm and they shared a long look. One of the silent conversations they had come to have over the last few years. Church smiled and nodded, and Brick stepped back and took up a station outside the room.