Shadow of Doubt, page 13
“So now we’ve got a cutout we can use. We just need to decide on the right message.”
“Are you sure Eva will cooperate?” Nicholas asked.
“I spared her husband’s life.”
“Which she asked you to do for the sake of their children. She also let you keep half of the hundred-million-dollar bounty he’d placed on your head. I imagine both Mr. and Mrs. Nekrasov would like you to remain in their review mirror.”
Harvath smiled. “Believe it or not, Eva has a soft spot for me. I was very clear to her shitbag husband that if he ever mistreated her again, or mistreated one of the kids, I’d be back. I’m kind of their guardian angel. We’ll consider my unannounced visit a welfare check.”
“You’re going to go see her in person?”
“I need to get the full download on what she knows about Inessa, as well as Tsybulsky. At this point, she may be the best source of information we have.”
Nicholas let out a long, slow exhalation of air. “Since I’m not going to be able to change your mind, who do you want to take with you?”
“Nobody,” Harvath replied. “I’m going alone.”
“If Nekrasov gets the chance, he’ll kill you.”
“Then I better make sure he doesn’t get the chance.”
The little man shook his head. “What do you need from me?”
“I need one of the cars and an encrypted cell phone.”
“Anything else?”
Harvath put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on Sølvi while I’m gone. And make sure everyone is ready to roll by the time I get back.”
“Roll where? We don’t even have a plan yet.”
“Are the Brits still training some of the Ukrainian commando units at Poole?”
“Yes, the Special Boat Service is. Why?”
“I’ve got an idea,” he replied, tapping his temple with his index finger. “If I’m right, there may be a way out of this. And, believe it or not, we may have Johnson to thank for it.”
After providing Harvath an encrypted phone and a set of keys to the black Range Rover Palmer and Ashby had been using, he wished his friend good luck. He had no idea what Harvath was about to do, but he had a bad feeling it was going to be very dangerous.
CHAPTER 22
Harvath knew two things about Eva Nekrasova. One, she would be traveling with a security detail, and two, she would know how to get rid of them.
After receiving his cryptic text and agreeing to meet, she had given him an address. The moment Harvath arrived, he knew why she had selected it. It was the one place her husband wouldn’t want her bodyguards to accompany her.
Secreted away in the Old Town neighborhood of Nice, the address was for a lingerie boutique called Trésor Caché. While Eva shopped inside, her two-man security detail sat on the terrace of the café across the street, keeping an eye on the shop’s front door.
With no one watching the back, Harvath had arrived ten minutes early via a small courtyard whose gate had been left unlocked. The owner of the boutique, a friend of Eva’s, had shown him to her upstairs office, where she opened a bottle of champagne and set it on the table, along with two glasses and a pack of cigarettes. After searching, she found a lighter and handed it to him.
Politely, Harvath put up his hand and said, “Thank you, but I don’t smoke.”
“It’s not for you,” the owner replied, as she turned to go back downstairs. “I’ll send Eva up when she gets here.”
The room was dimly lit, with a hand-carved wooden desk, low-slung, pillow-strewn couches, and multiple brass lanterns. With its Moroccan mirrors and other Arabesque details, it looked like something straight out of Bousbir, the historic red-light district of Casablanca.
He made himself as comfortable as he could. Despite the dose of ibuprofen Staelin had given him back at the villa, his body was still quite sore. It was going to take time until he was one hundred percent. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on pushing through it.
Moments later, he heard someone on the stairs. Opening his eyes, he stood just as Eva walked in.
The last time he had seen her had been at the Centre Antoine Lacassagne, Nice’s premier cancer institute. Since then, her face had been hollowed out and there were dark circles under her eyes. Even though she tried to hide it in a billowy kaftan, she had lost way too much weight.
Nevertheless, there was still an elegance to the way she carried herself. He met her at the door and she kissed him on both cheeks—a greeting as much French as it was Russian.
“I didn’t think we’d ever be seeing each other again,” she said, holding him out at arm’s length and inspecting him. “You look like you’ve been through it just as bad as I have.”
“My work has definitely been on the upswing,” he responded with a smile.
He led her to one of the couches and immediately offered assistance when he saw how much pain it caused her to sit.
“I’m all right,” she said softly. Then, eyeballing the bottle of champagne, she asked, “How about a drink?”
Harvath didn’t have the heart to say no. Filling both glasses, he handed her one and then sat down next to her.
“What should we toast to?” he asked.
“It’s very Russian,” Eva said, raising her glass and leaning into her Russian accent, “but let’s toast to health.”
“Perfect,” Harvath replied. “To health.”
The pair clinked glasses and took a long sip of champagne.
“So,” she began, “what’s your interest in Inessa Surkova? Please God, tell me it’s not romantic.”
Harvath laughed. “No. It’s definitely not romantic.”
“Then it must have to do with that shit, Arkady Tsybulsky.”
“I take it you’re not a fan?”
“My husband loves him. The rest of us think he’s an asshole. His wife, Polina, is even worse.”
“I read his file.”
“Then you should know you want nothing to do with him. Trust me.”
Harvath appreciated the warning. “Where is Polina?” he asked, digging for more details. “Why isn’t she here with him?”
“Polina is a Russian nationalist. She believes all Peshkov’s lies about Ukraine. She thinks it’s unpatriotic to spend money in France while the French are backing the Ukrainians.”
“And what do you think?”
Eva pondered her answer for a moment. “I think if she wants to stay behind in Moscow, that’s her choice. But choices have consequences.”
“Inessa being one of those consequences.”
The woman nodded.
“To be honest,” Harvath admitted, “I was surprised to learn that you are friends with her. I didn’t think you would approve.”
“It’s not my job to approve. They’re adults. They can do what they want. All my husband’s friends have mistresses. I don’t like it, but it is what it is. At least in the case of Inessa, she makes it a bit easier to be around Arkady. And if you spend the time to get to know her, she’s a good person. A bit sad, but good.”
“What’s sad about her?”
“She’s had a rough life. No little girl grows up dreaming of being the plaything of a monster like Arkady Tsybulsky. I’m sure she lays in bed every night wishing he were dead, but knowing that if he died, she’d be out in the cold. Men like him have no honor. I guarantee you he’s made no provisions for her. She’s disposable. He doesn’t care what happens to her after he’s gone. I’ve told her to stockpile as much jewelry as she can get. It’s all she can do.”
“Does she listen to you?” Harvath asked.
Eva motioned for him to hand her the cigarettes, which he did. There was an ashtray on the end table and he set that near her as well.
She opened the pack, lit one of the cigarettes, and took a deep drag. Exhaling, she remarked, “God that tastes good. Nikolai won’t let me smoke. Not since my cancer came back. He’s turned the entire staff against me. I have to sneak around like a criminal.”
“What do your doctors say?”
“They agree with him, of course.”
Harvath smiled. She knew what he meant. Finally, Eva said, “It’s more aggressive this time. They say my odds are fifty-fifty. I’ve already begun treatment again.”
“I’m sorry it came back.”
“Thank you.”
“At least you’re in good hands here. The Centre Antoine Lacassagne is an excellent facility.”
“Tell that to Nikolai,” she replied. “He wants me to go back to Russia with him.”
“For treatment?”
“No. Peshkov wants him back. He won’t say why. He told Nikolai to bring the whole family. That it was important that we all return. He offered to set me up with my own private medical team.”
“All at his compound on the Black Sea?” Harvath asked.
“Yes,” said Eva, stunned. “How did you know that?”
“Tsybulsky was asked to go too. He and Inessa are leaving tomorrow.”
“Why?”
Harvath shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m not going. And neither are my children. I don’t care what Nikolai does. I’ve told him that. I’m not leaving my doctors and I’m not pulling the children out of school.”
This was the second oligarch that Harvath had learned Peshkov had reached out to. It was alarming. There was something ominous about the man summoning his closest friends and confidants back to Russia. On top of that, he was encouraging them to bring their families. The Russian president had even offered to dedicate a medical team to Eva. Why?
It was a question that would have to wait. Better yet, it was something the CIA could worry about when he sent his next update to Holidae Hayes. Right now, he needed to get to Inessa. And for that, he needed Eva’s help. He decided to tell her the truth. Or at least as much of it as he could.
Looking at her, Harvath said, “You asked me why I reached out to you about Inessa Surkova. It’s because I need a favor. I need you to put me in touch with her.”
“Is that all?” Eva asked, taking another drag on her cigarette. “We didn’t need to go through all of this. I could have texted you her phone number.”
“It was important that we do this face-to-face.”
“Because?”
“Because there’s a man from Inessa’s past. He says he loves her and he thinks she loves him too.”
Eva, a hardened cynic, rolled her eyes.
“I know,” Harvath replied. “I had the same reaction, but trust me, it’s important that he see her.”
“So I’ll text him her phone number.”
“He already has it. That’s not the problem. The problem is that if she decides she wants to go with him, he thinks Tsybulsky won’t let her leave.”
“Well, he’d be right. Arkady sees Inessa as his property. Whoever this man is, you should tell him to find another girlfriend. This one is only going to get him killed.”
“I wish it were that easy,” Harvath continued. “The first part of my job is to get the two of them together without Tsybulsky, or any of his men, knowing.”
Eva laughed. “Good luck. He’s even more obsessed with security than my husband. Everyone on his staff is ex–Russian Special Forces and he pays ridiculously inflated prices for them. The saying in the Spetsnaz community is that you haven’t truly made it until your invitation to Spetsgruppa ‘D’ arrives.”
Harvath was familiar with the different Spetsnaz units, but he hadn’t heard of a Spetsgruppa “D.” He figured it was some kind of wordplay. “What does the D stand for?”
“Deneжный meshok,” she replied. “In English, it means ‘money bag.’ In Russian as well, but for us it’s considered quite derogatory. It refers to a boorish person with a crass amount of wealth.” Smiling, she added, “I think it fits Arkady perfectly.”
Harvath smiled back.
Taking another sip of champagne, she asked, “What’s the second part of your job? Once you get these two supposed lovebirds together.”
“If Inessa decides she wants to go off with this man, I’m supposed to help her disappear.”
Eva shook her head. “If you do, Arkady won’t rest until he’s killed all three of you.”
“I don’t think I’ll lose any sleep over him,” Harvath responded.
“He’s not like my husband. He can’t be reasoned with. And you should know that he doesn’t select his ex-Spetsnaz soldiers solely for their skills and experience. He picks them for their moral flexibility. They are not honorable men. They’re bad people.”
“Understood. I intend to stay as far away from them as possible.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” she asked.
Once more, Harvath smiled. “Everything’s going to be fine. I just need you to do one thing for me.”
“Which is?”
“Contact Inessa. Tell her you want to see her before she leaves. Get her to meet you for dinner tonight.”
Eva looked at him. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” he replied, topping off her champagne. “I’ll take care of everything else.”
CHAPTER 23
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
Though Maggie was an excellent cook, her husband, Paul, was also quite skilled in the kitchen. This morning he had whipped up a classic French omelette aux fines herbes incorporating chives, parsley, and tarragon from their own garden. He served it with fresh-squeezed orange juice, French-press coffee, and a perfectly crusty baguette from their favorite little bakery in McLean.
Maggie relished unhurried mornings like this—the sun streaming through the windows, she and Paul sharing different sections of the newspaper, simply easing into the day. It both grounded and reminded her of what she was grateful for.
They were halfway through breakfast when the call came in. One of her analysts overseeing the Belarus desk had uncovered something. How soon could Maggie get to the office?
The answer, of course, was right away. Though she drew a bright line between work and home, she understood that there were certain times, especially involving matters of national security, where that line needed to be crossed. Like a surgeon who was on call, it was simply part of the job.
Because of the time element, Maggie was forced to forgo her beloved bicycle and drive one of their cars to work.
In addition to her beautiful Cape Cod, Maggie’s grandmother had also left her an indomitable red Volvo, which, despite having almost one hundred thousand miles, was still in fine shape. Conroy hated it almost as much as he did her bike.
With its manual transmission, crank windows, and factory-installed AM/FM radio, it was a reminder for Maggie of simpler times and all of the wonderful trips she and her grandmother had taken—Colonial Williamsburg, Assateague Island, Gettysburg, Harpers Ferry… adventure was only a drive away.
Those had been the days. Life had been so new, so exciting. There was a carefreeness to that era. No cell phones. No computers. No email. You really could disconnect and disappear. People didn’t expect to be able to reach you instantly, day or night.
Yes, back then the U.S. was still embroiled in the Cold War, but people took vacations. They left the office behind, in every sense of the word—physically, mentally, emotionally. You didn’t feel constantly tethered, nor did you feel as if you could receive a yank on that tether at any moment, pulling you back to headquarters.
It really was a simpler time. It was probably why she enjoyed sitting down to breakfast with Paul, riding her bike, and, when forced to drive, rolling into the CIA in a car that probably ought to be in the Smithsonian Institution. It was her silent protest against the speed and hyperconnectivity of current times. Things only slowed down if you applied your own brakes and took control of the precious short time allotted to you in life.
Rolling through the front gates and security checkpoints at CIA headquarters, Maggie parked her old red Volvo and, grabbing the insulated mug of fresh coffee Paul had pressed for her while she was getting dressed, headed inside.
Having spoken with Holidae Hayes, she knew today was going to be an important one. It had made waves not only in Russia House, but across the entire leadership at the Agency, when it became quietly known that Harvath had succeeded in securing Langley a role in debriefing Leonid Grechko. While she hadn’t approved of Conroy’s methods, she had to give him credit: leaning on Harvath had paid off, big-time.
That said, moving Grechko to a makeshift safehouse in the South of France wasn’t anyone’s idea of the proper way to keep him safe. If Langley had its way, the Russian defector would be sitting in a much more secure facility. But it wasn’t up to Langley. It was up to Grechko and, for the moment, Sølvi Kolstad, which created an added headache for the CIA.
The Norwegians were exceptional allies. The relationship between the CIA and the NIS ran deep. Norway’s ambassador was beloved in D.C. Keeping a secret, like the whereabouts of Grechko and Sølvi, from Oslo was like juggling a hand grenade with the pin removed. The damage it could cause to U.S.–Norway relations was incalculable.
The CIA Director wanted the pin put back in the grenade. He didn’t care how Sølvi communicated with her superiors, or what she said. She did, however, need to let them know what was going on, ASAP. Langley did not want their Norwegian partners blindsided.
The message was transmitted to Conroy, who made it Maggie’s responsibility, as she’d become the conduit for all things Grechko. Maggie then passed it to Hayes, who promised she would communicate with Sølvi. It was CIA bureaucracy at its finest, but it kept people in their lanes and actually allowed for things to flow.
The revelations that the attack in Oslo had been on an NIS safehouse, and that Harvath was bringing Grechko and Sølvi in, had happened after Maggie and Conroy had met with the CIA Director to discuss Russia’s warnings of an alleged dirty bomb plot by Ukraine. All of that information was in the special update briefed to President Porter and his national security team.
Now Maggie had been called in early because even more intelligence had been developed. It needed to be reviewed and a decision made as to whether or not to include it in the president’s daily intelligence briefing.
