“Director Grigoriyev, there’s a very good reason that Chairman Lavrov hasn’t told you about the arrests,” Barron told him.
“And that would be…?”
“Because he was working for us,” Barron replied.
Grigoriyev furrowed his brow. “An extraordinary claim requires extraordinary proof.”
“The proof is sitting in a cell at GRU headquarters,” Cooke said.
“When my subordinates told me that they had caught an American spy trying to take sanctuary in her country’s embassy, I had so hoped it would be the young woman I met in Berlin at the embassy,” Lavrov said, exultant.
“I think I’m a little young for you,” Kyra replied, deadpan.
“There is no such thing,” Lavrov said. “But you are a woman of deeper morals, then?”
“More than you, apparently.”
Lavrov laughed at her response. “Yes, I think that is true. But we are both spies, and it is also true that the longer one is a spy, the fewer morals are left to her.”
“Only if she’s weak,” Kyra replied. “If she’s strong, the longer she’s a spy, the more devoted she becomes to the morals she believes in.”
“You are a thinker, then? Very good.” Lavrov chuckled. “But you do not know me—”
“You’re Arkady Lavrov, chairman of the GRU,” Kyra said. “And for the last twenty years, you’ve been selling strategic military technologies to foreign buyers. You sold stealth materials to the Chinese recovered from the wreckage of an F-117 Nighthawk shot down in Serbia in 1999. You sold nuclear weapons designs to the Iranians and have been helping them with uranium enrichment and nuclear waste reprocessing to manufacture plutonium. And now you’re trying to sell an electromagnetic pulse weapon to the Syrians, probably for use against Israel.” Kyra grinned. “I could be wrong about that last one.”
Lavrov smiled in surprise, nicotine-stained teeth showing between his lips. “And why do you think I do these things? Do you think I do it to destroy your country?”
“Actually, I think that would just be a bonus for you,” Kyra replied.
“Again, very good.” Lavrov looked down at her. “Destroying countries is the grandiose ambition of lunatics, movies, and fiction books,” he said. The man’s English was refined, very smooth compared to Sokolov’s diction. “But if that were my goal, I would need do nothing. Your own politicians are doing it efficiently enough. The irony is that you’re doing to yourselves what you once did to us. Your leaders are wasting your wealth, spending more on your military than the next ten countries combined, trying to keep the world in a bottle. But I promise you, I am very interested in building up your country.”
Kyra frowned. “You’ll forgive me if I think you’re a liar.”
“Of course,” Lavrov replied. “But I am quite telling the truth when I say that I have a proposal for you.”
“Such as?”
“I would like you to work for me.”
“If Lavrov is one of your assets, why would he be holding your officers?” Grigoriyev said, disbelieving.
“That’s complicated—” Barron started. He was playing the idiot, giving Cooke’s more generous answers greater credibility.
“I am not a stupid man,” Grigoriyev cut him off.
“No, you’re not,” Cooke replied. “Lavrov was a volunteer, but not for ideological reasons. Simply put, he was feeding us information about you, sir, and the FSB. I don’t think you’ll be surprised to hear that he’s wanted to remove you from your post for a long time. To that end, he gave us information about FSB operations that let us protect our operations and undercut your efforts. In short, Lavrov wanted to neutralize you.”
Grigoriyev gave no reaction to the accusation. “Continue,” he said, his voice showing no emotion.
“We were happy to cooperate with that effort until we learned about some of Lavrov’s own operations. I presume you know about the Chinese stealth plane that the U.S. Navy shot down over the Taiwan Strait two years ago?” Cooke asked.
“Yes.”
“Lavrov sold the engine and stealth technologies to the Chinese to make that plane. Its engine designs matched those of Russia’s fifth-generation fighter, the Sukhoi T-50,” Barron said.
Grigoriyev frowned. “Those engines are not for export and the plans are classified.”
“And you also know about the Iranian nuclear warhead that we recovered in Venezuela last year?” Cooke asked.
“Yes,” Grigoriyev said.
Cooke extended a USB thumb drive to the Russian. “It was a Russian design, last generation.”
Grigoriyev took the thumb drive. “That cannot be true. That would be treason of the highest order, unless the order came from the president himself.”
“Yes, it would,” Cooke said.
“Work for you?” Kyra asked. It was the least subtle pitch for treason she’d ever heard. “Like Maines?”
“I thought Mr. Maines could understand my views. But when he arrived in Berlin, he proved to me that his interest was money above anything else. I knew then that he was not the person I needed inside the CIA. So I refused to give him anything,” Lavrov countered. “But I have greater hopes for you, young lady. Our conversation on the embassy roof… you showed me then that you see things in a different way. Shall I explain?”
“Oh, please, by all means,” Kyra told him. “I want to hear this.”
Lavrov dragged a chair over toward his captive and set his bulk on the seat. “Some years ago, Vladimir Putin said that the collapse of the Soviet Union was the disaster of the century, and he was correct. He was thinking of the plight that faced the Russian people in the years after, but he failed to see the plight that our collapse left for yours.”
“I think being the world’s only superpower worked out pretty well for us,” Kyra observed.
“Then you have been blind,” Lavrov told her, his voice suddenly cold. “There must be opposition in all things, don’t you think? For almost fifty years, your country faced nuclear annihilation at our hand, but that did not break your spirit, your sense of who you were… quite the opposite, in fact. But you spent so long fighting us that when we could no longer fight, you found yourselves without direction. Then September eleventh. Terrorists are vicious people, to be sure, but hardly a threat to your national existence. But how did your leaders respond? They dropped expensive bombs on people who lived in caves and huts. They kidnapped and tortured. They tried to control chaos with tools designed to fight an organized enemy.”
Kyra said nothing. She wanted to tell the man that he was wrong, but she wasn’t sure that he was.
“During the Cold War, two great powers offered a single choice to every country in the world… whose side will you join? And the world was more stable for it.” Lavrov stopped talking, ran his hand through his thinning gray hair. “Do you see it?” he asked. “Two fallen countries that could be great again… but neither without the other. We need our enemies, devushka. That is why I don’t want to destroy your country. I only want to build mine up, but it cannot rise to its full stature without yours to oppose it. We will draw other countries back into our arms—”
“So you can take them over again?” Kyra asked. She didn’t try to hide her contempt.
“Not so much. That did not work so well for us before… but weaker countries do turn to stronger ones for guidance. That is to be expected. And it is the nature of almost every person, as soon as they gain a little power, that they begin to exercise it to control those around them. No, it is better, I think, to offer them something they want and attach conditions to receiving it. Better to bribe than to bully or butcher. People will fight to the death for their freedoms, but they will sell them quick and cheap for something they want.”