“Exactly what it sounded like it was supposed to mean,” Kaparov retorted.
Now Berg was more concerned than intrigued. At first he thought the Russian was fishing for information, but now it sounded like he had good reason to suspect that the Americans, or possibly Sanderson’s people, might have new information regarding Reznikov.
It wasn’t Sanderson. He was fairly sure of that. Not one hundred percent, but close enough. Sanderson’s assets hadn’t been used for a number of months now, a trend that was unlikely to change in light of the Beltway’s regime change.
Berg also had good reason to doubt the CIA had run an operation. He still had a few deeply placed friends in the Special Activities Division. If the CIA had been tasked with a mission to kill or capture Reznikov, SAD would have been involved, and word would have reached him by now. If the operation was military, he couldn’t say one way or the other unless the Pentagon tapped the CIA for help.
He hated being this far out of the game.
“I have nothing new on my end regarding our acquaintance,” said Berg, composing himself. “What leads you to conclude we were involved?”
“A lifetime spent reading between the lines and the fact that we don’t have the land-based or naval capability to launch a helicopter raid into India. Here’s the quick version of what I know.”
Berg listened as the Russian hastily described the operation, which had miraculously failed to capture Reznikov. They couldn’t even be sure he hadn’t escaped with any of his gruesome work because they torched the laboratory. And now the scientist was either on his own or sold to the highest bidder. Neither scenario boded well.
At best, it reset the clock on the next bioterror attack. At worst… he didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario.
“So what does this leave us with?” asked Berg, sensing there was more.
“Very little,” stated Kaparov.
“But something?”
“Grigor Sokolov.”
Berg recognized the name immediately. Sokolov had been part of the mercenary team that snatched Reznikov out of “retirement” in Vermont. Several high-resolution digital cameras had caught his ugly face during the raid. A year or so later, video surveillance footage acquired by Sanderson’s people put him next to Reznikov during the failed attempt to neutralize the scientist in Uruguay. Sokolov had been part of the scientist’s personal security detail from the start. He’d expect to find Sokolov’s body at the site, but it did little more than reinforce the likelihood that Reznikov had been there moments before the Russians raided the laboratory.
“He’s not much good to us dead.”
“Did I say he was dead?” asked Kaparov, pausing before continuing. “He’s missing.”
“He could have been burned up in the lab,” Berg suggested.
“I don’t think so. Sokolov and Ageykin have been close to Reznikov from the beginning. They’re plank owners, part of the original crew that stole him right out from under your nose. The rest died in Uruguay.”
“No need to get personal,” said Berg.
“Sorry. I get a little animated when I think about how all of this could have been avoided.”
Berg let it go. No point in reminding his friend that Reznikov was a Russian Federation-sponsored product of an illegal bioweapons program. He knew it better than anyone.
“So you think Sokolov betrayed the Bratva?” Berg asked.
“It’s a theory.”
“Sounds like your only theory,” replied Berg.
“It’s the only theory that makes sense to me. Reznikov didn’t get the drop on two seasoned mercenaries and Zuyev. No fucking way.”
“I guess the big question is who owns Reznikov, or does he own himself?” asked Berg. “Could he have bribed Sokolov somehow? Maybe convince him there’s a bigger payoff if he sets him free?”
“Big question, indeed. Gut instinct tells me Sokolov either reached out on his own or was approached. These mercenaries deal in real money, not promises of wild payoffs by crazy scientists. Hard money turned Sokolov, and lots of it. The Bratva isn’t overly forgiving of traitors. We’re talking the kind of money that can fund a very expensive, permanent disappearing act.”
Berg couldn’t argue too deeply with Kaparov’s prevailing theory. Even if Reznikov somehow turned the tables on his captors and escaped on his own, who had provided the intelligence for the raid? Certainly not Reznikov. He had no way to control the most important variable in that plan — how to avoid the military unit sent to capture or kill him. Reznikov was without a doubt mentally deranged, but he wasn’t stupid. Far from it. A few well-placed smart bombs could have landed at any time, turning him into human confetti.
It wasn’t Reznikov, which only left them with the Sokolov angle. A narrow angle no matter how you looked at it. And that was just the beginning of the bad news.
“Who knows about Sokolov on your end?” he asked.
“Me and one other person I trust with my life. I suggest you keep it that way on your end. The timing of Reznikov’s escape suggests a leak somewhere. Can’t be too careful.”
“Then we discreetly look for Sokolov while everyone else shakes the trees for Reznikov.”
“Agreed. And when we find him, we let your special friends handle it.”
“I’ll put them on alert. If Sokolov is out there, he’s guaranteed to screw up. The guy spent the last two years in hiding. Put some money in his hands, and he’ll draw attention. If he’s still travelling with Reznikov, the chance is tripled.”
“My thoughts precisely. Keep me updated,” said Kaparov.
“I will. Good to hear from you again.”
“Uh-huh,” said Kaparov. “One last thing.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Why are you talking outside?”
“Do you have me under surveillance or something?”
He didn’t reply, forcing Berg to answer the question.
“They’ve redecorated the place, and I don’t exactly fit with the new décor.”
“Maybe I should have asked that question at the start of our conversation.”
“I’m just being ultracautious,” Berg said.
“I appreciate the courtesy,” said Kaparov then hung up abruptly.
Shit. Berg couldn’t tell by the Russian’s tone if that was the last he’d hear from him. Like himself, Kaparov had too much to lose, and it wouldn’t take much to unravel his ties to everything that had transpired two years ago. If the roles were reversed, he’d strongly weigh the risks of making contact again. In a way, Berg’s situation wasn’t all that different. If the wrong person linked his sudden interest in Sokolov to the rogue bioweapons scientist, he’d quickly find out what this new administration was capable of. Regardless of the risk, he had to do something. Getting rid of Reznikov was his cross to bear.
Chapter 12
Karl Berg paused in front of a partially opened door, reading the nameplate on the wall next to him. Audra Bauer — Deputy Director, Counterproliferation Division. He’d walked directly from his call with Kaparov to her office, afraid that he might lose the nerve to approach her if he waited too long. They were still good friends despite the unspoken strain of their recent demotions, but Berg felt tentative about bringing her this new information.
It fit right in her wheelhouse at Counterproliferation, but Sandra Tillman, the new NCS director, or someone even higher up the chain of command, had no doubt given Bauer the same message as Berg: Forget Reznikov ever happened. Forget anything connected with Reznikov ever happened. The new administration didn’t like connections to their sordid past, which was exactly how he intended to pitch his plan to Bauer.