Down below, near the helipad, some of the miners who’d been watching the helo lift off began hiking up the slope, toward her.
* * *
GRIM and Charlie were waiting for them as they rushed up Paladin’s rear loading ramp. Kasperov came forward, ringed by his bodyguards, his girlfriend clinging to his arm.
“And who are they?” he asked Fisher.
“The rest of my team.”
Fisher made the requisite introductions, with Charlie shaking Kasperov’s hand and stammering like a groupie. Then, as the loading ramp groaned up behind them, Grim lifted her voice and said, “Mr. Kasperov. We can’t tell you exactly who we are, and we’re going to ask that you and your party forget everything you see here, but nevertheless, I want to welcome you aboard Paladin.”
Kasperov crossed quickly to the SMI table, throwing up his hands, his eyes growing wide and bright. “This . . . is this what I think it is?”
“No,” Grim said with a smile. “And you never saw it.” She tapped a few screens, and abruptly they had a live stream to Nadia’s room back at the safe house. She was watching TV, then turned at the light turning green near the computer monitor.
“Oh my God, Dad?” She moved to the video camera, her pale face filling the screen, her bruises beginning to turn purple and yellow.
“Yes, I’m here! What happened to your eye? Did she hit you?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Dad, please, we have to stay with the Americans now. We can trust them. Okay? Listen to me for once.”
“I already have,” said Kasperov. “And I’m so sorry, Nadia. I did this to you.”
“Shut up. You’re always so dramatic. And maybe what happened to us is not such a bad thing. Now you don’t have to complain about the government anymore. You’re free of them, yes?”
“Yes, you’re right. I love you.”
“And I love you.”
Grim lifted her chin. “Nadia, we have to say good-bye for now. We’ll have your father call you when we land in Virginia.”
“All right, thank you.”
Kasperov nodded his thanks and blinked back the tears welling in his eyes.
Grim faced the group. “We’ve got jump seats on the wall toward the back. Everybody needs to buckle in for takeoff.”
Charlie came over to Fisher and slapped him on the shoulder. “Great job, Sam. You and Briggs rock-starred the shit out of this operation.”
Fisher ignored the praise, his thoughts still locked on the slopes outside the mine. “Can you get me a satellite on the mountain where we lost the Snow Maiden?”
“Not sure we got anything within range right now, but we can try.” Charlie rushed over to his station and, as was his wont, banged on his keyboard in a fury that sounded as though the keys might snap off. Screens and access codes flashed by so quickly that Fisher got dizzy. Charlie patched into a satellite that snapped an image of the mountainside.
“Shit, I knew it,” said Fisher.
“Knew what? I don’t see anything.”
“That’s what I mean. She was right there. Now she’s gone. She wasn’t dead.”
“So what? We’re so gone now she’ll never catch us.”
“You tell me how she found us here?”
“I don’t know.”
“You tell me how she survived the fall?”
“Well, that’s easier. Depends on the drop and how deep and hard the snow is. Hell, during World War II the Russians ran out of parachutes and used to put soldiers inside bales of hay and throw ’em out of airplanes so they’d land in the snow.”
“Where’d you read that?”
“In high school. Was the only cool part in the whole book.”
Fisher exhaled in disgust.
“No worries now, Sam. Screw her. We got Kasperov. The Kremlin will take care of her for us.”
“Unless she’s gone rogue. Then anything’s possible.” Fisher swore and shook his head. “I hate loose ends.”
* * *
ONCE they’d left the airport and reached their cruising speed and altitude of Mach 0.74 and thirty-four thousand feet, respectively, Kasperov asked that he and his girlfriend be allowed to rest. They’d barely slept since fleeing Moscow, and while he’d agreed to another conversation with the president, for the time being he needed a meal and a few hours to close his eyes without that constant twitch of fear in the back of his mind.
Fisher and Grim agreed to Kasperov’s request, allowing the man and his girlfriend to sleep in the infirmary. His bodyguards remained outside, where Kobin found a new hobby in harassing them.
While Charlie and Grim continued their intel gathering and assessment, Briggs worked in the armory, cleaning and prepping weapons.
Fisher took a moment to drag Kobin away from his new bestest buddies. “You still in touch with your guy in Lima?”
“He’s looking for payment now. Maybe you can help me grease his palm?”
“Electronic transfer okay?” asked Fisher.
“I’m sure it is.”
“Tell him he’s still on our tab. Got a Russian agent, probably heading out through Juliaca. Need confirmation that she left. Maybe he can help track her.”
“This the Snow Maiden Charlie’s been talking about?”
“Yeah.”
“I heard she’s a real ball breaker.”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“And Kobin?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re still alive.”
“Wow, Fisher. You’re gonna make me cry.”
“Yeah, in pain, if you don’t shut up. Call your guy. Get me what I need.”
* * *
THE trip back from Peru to Virginia would take over eight hours, and Kasperov did not rise from his slumber for nearly six. Once he was rested and ready, he asked his girlfriend to leave the infirmary so that he, Fisher, and Grim could have a private conversation with the president, whose face glowed from a nearby monitor.
“All right, Mr. Kasperov. I’ll be blunt,” Caldwell began. “A hundred pounds of weapons-grade uranium is stolen from Mayak. Not long after, you suddenly flee your country. Is there a connection? What’re you running from?”
“I need assurances, guarantees that you’ll keep me and my family safe—because what I will tell you will get me killed.”
“You have my word. And behind me is the greatest military machine the world has ever known. What else do you need?”
“Trust. And can you put price on that?”
“No. But you can let us earn yours. What do you have for us?”
“It’s not Treskayev,” Kasperov answered quickly. “I know him. He’s good man, supported by you and your government. But they’ve put gun to his head.”
“Who?” asked Caldwell.
“Men . . . men like me. I have only opinion, no proof, so no actionable intel as you say. But I know who they are. Perov, the arms manufacturer; Yanayev, the aerospace mogul; and Kargin, the investment banker. Mostly ex-KGB, Yeltsin’s drinking buddies back in ’93. When he busted up state financial apparatus, they got special consideration. Now they buy American sports teams, hunt for American wives, and put big pressure on Treskayev. There are more, but these three are troika that lead all others.”
“What do they want?” Fisher asked.
Kasperov snorted. “What all men want: money . . . power. They’ve secretly won sympathy of prime minister, and he’s recruited many of deputy prime ministers, and they in turn have won over federal ministers. Right now, America stands in their way. Their plan is to weaken your government and undermine your economy, and they would do so in three stages. I was to be first stage.”
“Let me guess: a computer virus attack against the United States,” Grim concluded.
Kasperov nodded slowly. “We call it ‘Calamity Jane.’”
“And it attacks our banking system,” said Caldwell.
“Much more than that. It renders GPS systems useless by exploiting systemic problem with cryptographic keying scheme.”
“That’s impossible,” said Grim. “The GPS control segment is encrypted and uses top secret algorithms. It’s managed from five redundant, high-security, and very hard to reach ground stations all over the world. The master control station is in Colorado Springs, with a backup at Vandenberg. You guys can’t get into their systems. No way.”