“You’re saying the KGB helped bring about the downfall of Communism?”
“They didn’t just help bring it about. They orchestrated it.”
“Why?”
“Because they didn’t have a choice. And because they wanted to get rich. Look, the last guy to rule the Soviet Union was KGB. Our current president-for-life? Also a KGB officer. What does that tell you? Who do you think are the richest people in Russia today? The ones who were running the show before the Wall came down. That’s why they were able to plunder the country’s natural resources and siphon off these colossal fortunes for themselves. Because, like my father, they were the only ones who were allowed to see what was going on outside our borders. They were the only ones who could travel and read foreign newspapers and see for themselves, and they weren’t stupid. They understood that the game was over. They knew Communism was dying. So they prepared for its imminent demise. They set up their own version of democracy, their own version of capitalism.
“People like my father and his friends at the Kremlin partnered with the only people who were doing business under Communism: the black-market bosses, the only people who understood how to actually make money at a time when it was a crime to do so. They all positioned themselves to reap the rewards together when the system collapsed. And they got it right. You think these gangsters were happier before, when a life of privileged luxury meant some crappy Volga limo and a dacha in a remote forest by a frozen lake? Or now, with mansions in London and hundred-million-dollar yachts in Monaco? The collapse of the Soviet Union was the biggest robbery in history. These guys make Al Capone and Don Corleone look like pickpockets. You think you have a problem with your ‘one percent’? Come to Moscow. See how our ‘one percent’ live. And how they really make their money.”
“And you want to bring them down?”
She laughed. “I can’t bring them down. No one can. But if I can help turn the tide a little bit, if I can score a small victory here and there… at least I’ll have done something.”
I nodded. I was starting to like her. “Tell me something. Your people and us, this constant struggle between us. Is it ever going to end?”
“No.” No hesitation there.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “We will always be jealous of you. Jealous of your economic and industrial success, and frustrated by Russia’s lack of it. Look at everything around you. We don’t produce anything except for basic natural resources that any third-world country can produce. We don’t create anything world-class that we can take pride in. Cars, planes, computers, mobile phones, wine, watches, you name it-we don’t make any of those. The only thing we’re world leaders in is the creation of spam. Spam, theft, and fraud. That’s us.”
“Sounds promising,” I said.
“It’s not,” she grumbled. Then the edges of her eyes creased. “The massacre at Brighton Beach. That was Sokolov, wasn’t it?”
“He wasn’t there. But it was his handiwork. His machine.”
She asked, “What is it?”
Which surprised me. “You don’t know?”
“No.”
“Who does?”
“I don’t know. Obviously, some people in Moscow must know. The ones who saw his work before he defected. But I don’t know if they’ve shared specifics about it with my boss.”
“What about Langley?” I was dying to throw Frank Fullerton and Reed Corrigan’s names at her to see her reaction, but I held back. Referring to them by their code names-the only names I had for them-would be the wrong move at this point.
“I’m sure some people know more than they’ve told me, but as far as I know, no one really knows what it is or how it works. We just know it’s bad.” She paused, then asked, “What do you think it is?”
I hesitated, unsure about how much to share with her. How much to trust her. But I figured she’d already revealed herself enough to be able to go a bit further.
“He’s built some kind of device in his van. I think it has something to do with manipulating the brain using microwaves. But that’s about all I’ve got.” It was time for me to park my Corrigan quest, as I needed her help on something that was far more important-and urgent. “Who is this ‘Koschey’ we’re dealing with? What can you tell me about him?”
“Not much. He’s good.”
“That, I know.”
She frowned. “He’s a top FSB agent. A lieutenant colonel. He works alone. Takes his orders straight from the general in Moscow. We’re instructed to give him any support he needs if and when he calls.”
“We need to find him if we’re going to get Sokolov and his van back. Who’s his contact at the consulate?”
“Vrabinek. The consul. But right now, it’s a dead end. Koschey hasn’t been in touch with him since Wednesday.”
I felt a jab of unease. “So not since he grabbed Sokolov?”
“Exactly.”
This didn’t sound good. “He could already be gone.”
Her glum look mirrored my sinking feeling. “Maybe.”
This felt like a total catastrophe. Like we’d only seen the tip of the iceberg with this thing.
Then my phone rang.
And everything changed.
61
I couldn’t believe it.
An anonymous tip.
A warehouse out in Jamaica.
Larisa could see something major was going down.
“What?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
I told Aparo I’d meet him at his car and hung up. “I’ve got to go.”
“What’s happened?”
“I’ve got to go. I’ll call you.”
She reached out and grabbed my arm. “Talk to me. Don’t cut me out. We’re on the same side.”
“Oh, so now we’re on the same side?”
“Come on,” she said, her eyes all fierce. “I couldn’t tell you. And I wouldn’t have told you if you hadn’t figured it out by yourself. But now that you know, you also know how useful I can be. Let’s help each other. Neither of us can afford to let this guy run off with Sokolov or the van.”
I didn’t have time for this. Aparo was rushing down to meet me. A dozen SWAT guys were gearing up and getting into their vans. Every second counted.
“Fine. Come with me.”
“What’s happened?” she said as she sprinted across the street alongside me.
THE WAREHOUSE WAS IN a run-down light-industrial zone close to the LIRR station, just south of Liberty Avenue. There wasn’t much around in terms of activity-a lot of the warehouses and commercial structures had “Available for Rent” signposts outside them. It was clearly bust time in the old cycle, and the loading zones around here looked like they’d been hit hard. Which made it a perfect place for someone like Koschey to find himself a quiet little corner from which to sow his mayhem.
The caller’s information had been good enough to match up to a particular warehouse, the one we were currently staking out. Me, Aparo, Kanigher, Larisa, and twelve highly trained members of the Bureau’s SWAT team. The four of us were all suited up in Kevlar, windbreakers with big letters on the back, earpieces in and weapons out, poised to raid the place. The SWAT guys looked like they were ready to storm hell itself.
A thermal-imaging scan showed only one person in there and no heat signature from a warm car engine. The lone figure was on the ground with his back against the wall and wasn’t moving, which meant he had either dozed off or he was tied in place. It didn’t guarantee he was alive. At this distance, the FLIR camera couldn’t tell us what his temperature was, and the human body didn’t cool down that fast.