State Sanctioned, page 11
“No, but I have an address for her. It’s a high-end condo in Moscow.”
Sonya shook her head. “No doubt paid for by her boss.” She sighed. “Sometimes I wished I looked like that so I wouldn’t have to work for anything.”
Tommy spun toward her. “Are you kidding? You’re the bomb! You’re way better looking than her. Everything about her is fake. You’re real. That’s way more attractive.”
Sonya blushed and Leroux smiled slightly, letting her enjoy the flattery for a few moments before yanking his “team” back on track. “Okay, get that address to Dylan and any details you think might be relevant.”
Tommy tapped a few keys. “Done.”
“Any luck with the traces of our other blonde?”
Sonya nodded, bringing up some footage playing out in sequence showing their suspect. “We’ve got her arriving in London the day before, picking up a rental car, staying at her hotel overnight, then arriving in Salisbury and parking near the victim’s house. She watches them leave, waits for quite a few hours before we see our victims returning, she goes ahead, plants the nerve agent, leaves, exchanges pleasantries with the man she’s trying to murder, gets in her car, heads to London, gets on a plane for Moscow, and is out of British airspace before anyone knows the seriousness of the situation. She’s back in Moscow where the next evening she blows up a building, killing dozens.”
“Cold,” muttered Tommy, clearly disturbed.
Leroux regarded him. “You okay?”
Tommy shrugged. “Yeah, it’s just, well, hard to believe there are people out there that are so evil, you know?”
Sonya turned her chair to face him, still blushing slightly at his impassioned defense of her beauty. “You sort of get used to it over time. You just have to realize that it’s our job to try and stop them, and more often than not we do.”
“But you hear about terrorist attacks all the time!”
Leroux nodded. “Yes, but you almost never hear about the ones we stop. If the public knew how many terrorist attacks were actually attempted and stopped, they’d be terrified. There’s been over one-hundred serious attacks stopped by people like us since Nine-Eleven. And that’s just on home soil. There’s been hundreds if not thousands more worldwide that have been stopped thanks to our efforts and those of our allies.”
“But what about Europe? You hear about attacks there all the time.” Tommy jabbed a finger at the monitors without looking. “And I read about what’s really happening, that the press and the governments over there are covering up. It’s insane!”
Leroux grunted. “Unfortunately, Europe is pretty much lost already. You can’t let millions of people into your society who have absolutely nothing in common with you, then expect everything to be fine. Hopefully, we’ll learn from their mistakes, and they’ll be able to fix the problem before it’s too late.”
Tommy folded his arms. “Everything I’m seeing suggests it already is.”
Leroux shrugged. “It may be. Brussels is supposed to be majority Muslim within fifteen years. Nothing you can do once that happens.”
Tommy shuddered. “I don’t know how you guys do this, day in and day out, knowing what’s out there, and how blind so much of society is to it.”
Leroux sighed, forcing a smile. “We live in a democracy. We have no control over what our leaders do beyond our individual vote, and we have no control over what the public does. All we can do is try to protect them from external threats, even if those threats are brought here willingly by the very people we’re sworn to protect. I like to think that eventually we’ll all figure out a way to get along, but you’re right, it’s easy to become jaded when you know what’s really going on in the world, and realize how much of it is being whitewashed. It’s a messed up time, and unfortunately, it’s probably going to get much worse before it gets better.”
“You think it will? Get better, I mean?”
Leroux nodded. “I do. We just need to keep doing our jobs so that we don’t lose what we’ve worked so hard to build over the past centuries. We have to hope that people will eventually realize that we shouldn’t change what we’ve built in order to accommodate those who come here with no intention of improving things.” He held up a finger. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not right.”
“It might not be right, but it’s the truth,” said Tommy.
Sonya cleared her throat. “When my grandparents came here, they were given nothing. They arrived and immediately went to work. Life was hard for them, but their children were able to get an education. My dad became an engineer thanks to his parents, and my mom a doctor thanks to hers. They had me, and I grew up in a household that had its traditions from the homeland, but 99% of my life was as American as yours. We integrated, and now I don’t even really think of myself as a hyphenated American. I’m just American, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She sighed. “I get frustrated with so many from my generation saying I have to identify with my heritage. I have to be an Asian-American, or a Chinese-American, or whatever. Why can’t I just be American? I love my country, I’ve known no different, and I don’t want to know any different. The moment you throw a hyphen in front of your identity, you’ve separated yourself from all the rest that don’t share that same hyphenated qualifier. We keep tearing our country apart because we’re this-American or that-American, instead of just American.” She growled then sighed. “I’m sorry. As the only visible minority here, I just had to say something.”
Tommy clapped and Leroux let him for a moment before holding up his hand and cutting him off. He smiled at Sonya. “I guess it’s kind of liberating not being at the office and having to tiptoe around so many rules.”
She flashed a smile, her eyes darting back to her clasped hands. “I guess. I’m sorry, I should have just kept my mouth shut.”
Leroux shook his head. “No, you’ve got every right to express your opinion. We all do, as long as we recognize that not everyone is going to agree with that opinion, and that this is perfectly fine. Too often today, we see someone who disagrees with someone else say that person is an idiot, or more often than not, evil, and tries to have their opinion banned. It’s ridiculous.” He held up his hand as his heart rate climbed. “Okay, we really need to stop talking about this, otherwise I’m going to get myself worked up, and who knows what I’ll say!”
Tommy was grinning. “I love this! Is this what a real job is like? I mean, I’ve only ever been at school. You can’t say anything anymore unless you echo what the politically correct crowd tells you to say. If you do, you’re shunned, attacked on social media, you can’t find study partners, whatever. I always thought campus life was going to be so liberating, but college has been the most bullying, most restrictive environment I’ve ever been in. And I’ve been arrested!”
Leroux chuckled. “Yeah, I’m glad that’s all behind me. I wouldn’t want to be a student today who thought differently than what he’s being told to think.”
One of the machines beeped and Tommy turned his attention away from the off-topic conversation, smiling in triumph. “I’ve found our mystery woman from three weeks ago.”
Sonya and Leroux rolled their chairs closer. “What have you got?”
Tommy brought up a video showing a woman entering the Minkin Holdings building. He tapped a few keys and the facial recognition points were matched then compared to the image they had of her from the poisoning in the UK, and from the bombing in Moscow.
“It’s a match.” Tommy turned toward them. “She was at all three locations. She’s definitely our woman, and all these events are definitely connected.”
Leroux bit down on his lip, staring at the images. “And we still have no idea who she is.”
Sonya leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “But this doesn’t make sense. According to West, Minkin was in the room, giving the briefing. He was definitely involved. She’s tried to kill the KGB agent who spotted the shooter, she’s tried to kill the shooter, if Zorkin is correct, yet she didn’t try to kill Minkin? Does that mean he’s actually the one behind this?”
Leroux shook his head. “No, we’re jumping to conclusions here. Just because she tried to get in the building doesn’t mean she actually met with Minkin. She might have been there to kill him, and couldn’t get to him.”
“But what about the Novichok? We have to assume it came from him, and that he gave it to her. That’s just too big a coincidence that one of the few civilians who would have access to it was also paid a visit by the woman who used the nerve agent.”
Leroux agreed. “You’re right, of course, it’s too big a coincidence. But we don’t know what happened there. There could have been a handoff by a third party, so she never had access to him, or she did meet with him, but the raid interfered with her plans, or, like you said, he’s the one behind the whole thing, and she’s just following his instructions.”
Tommy sat listening to the conversation, his eyes wide, the smile genuine. He finally couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Best! Job! Ever!”
Leroux laughed. “It is, isn’t it? Now, let’s hope Dylan can get some answers. We need to know what that woman was doing there, and more importantly, who the hell she is.”
“And we need to find out where she is,” said Sonya. “Before she hops a flight here and kills the Chief.”
18 |
House on Mosfilmovskaya Apartments Moscow, Russia
“Ms. Lobanov, my name is Dylan Kane. I’m from Shaw’s of London. I’m here concerning your employer, Mr. Minkin. May I come up?”
He didn’t blame the poor woman for hesitating. After all, Svetlana Lobanov’s employer and boyfriend was in prison, awaiting trial for charges brought against him by a government drunk with power, a government that had shown no hesitation to kill those they felt opposed them. But he needed to speak with her, and his cover as an insurance investigator for Shaw’s was his best hope.
“I, umm, don’t know. I’m very tired. Perhaps later?”
“Ms. Lobanov, I’m here to help your employer. I need to speak to you. It is very urgent, otherwise we won’t be able to assist him in these trying times, and I’m afraid he could go to prison for the rest of his life, or worse.”
He heard a gasped cry, and wondered if she actually cared for Minkin, or just his wallet.
Perhaps a little of both.
“Very well. You can come up.”
“Thank you, Ms. Lobanov.” He handed the phone over to the woman manning the lobby desk, a few words exchanged before he was waved through.
“Fifteenth floor. Unit 1503.”
Kane beamed a smile at the woman, her cheeks flushing slightly. He was looking good, a Tom Ford pinstripe suit tailored to his exact measurements was in the trunk of the car Zorkin had provided, along with all the accouterments needed to look drop-dead gorgeous. There was no better confidence builder than looking good, and no better panty remover than confidence.
And in the old days, he might have looked up the young lady when the job was done, but instead, the show he was putting on was all business, Fang the only woman he needed now.
I can’t wait to get home.
It was an exciting feeling. For years, he rarely came home, for home wasn’t really home. He spent so much time on assignment, and had been so damaged, that his downtime was spent at luxury resorts with bevies of women at his beck and call where he drowned out his sorrows and loneliness with alcohol and sex.
And when he did get a chance to go home to see his parents, he was met with a father who barely spoke to him because he was pissed Kane had given up his career in the military to be a “glorified insurance salesman,” and a family he had to lie to about everything he did.
But it was different now. When the Assembly had kidnapped his parents to get to him, they had finally become aware of what he was doing for a living, and the relationship between him and them, especially his father, was stronger than ever. And with Fang in his life, he had a home to come back to.
My old stomping grounds probably think I’m dead.
He stepped onto the elevator and pressed the button for the fifteenth floor, arriving moments later. He checked himself in the mirrored wall then stepped off, heading for 1503. He knocked and the door was opened, a stunning blond woman greeting him with red eyes and flushed cheeks.
Man or money? Money or man?
“Ms. Lobanov, I’m Dylan Kane. May I come in?”
“Of course.” She stepped aside and he entered, taking in the opulent apartment, no expense spared to keep her happy.
Secretaries make good money in Russia.
The door closed behind him and she headed for a nearby wet bar, refilling a martini glass. She held it up. “Do you want one?”
He waved it off. “No, thank you.” He motioned toward a sitting area. “Please, let’s talk for a few minutes, then I’ll let you get on with your day.”
She stumbled over her own feet and he rushed forward, grabbing her arm and preventing a faceplant. “Th-thank you.” She sighed and allowed herself to be led to a nearby chair. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me at my worst.”
Kane smiled, taking a seat beside her, turning his chair to face her. He leaned in, gently squeezing her arm. “You have nothing to apologize for. These are stressful times.”
“You have no idea.”
Kane pulled a folder from his briefcase, flipping it open then pulling a pen from his shirt pocket. “I’ll try to be brief.” He pretended to scan his notes. “Now, your name is Svetlana Lobanov?”
“Yes.”
“And you are Mr. Minkin’s secretary.”
“Executive Assistant.”
“Of course, forgive me. So, that means you manage all of his appointments?”
“Yes.”
“And when the police raided the offices, were you there?”
“Yes.”
“And was Mr. Minkin meeting with someone?”
She hesitated. “Umm, why?”
“I need as much information as possible if we’re going to mount an effective defense.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re a lawyer?”
He shook his head. “No, but the firm I represent has plenty of lawyers. Right now, we need to determine if Mr. Minkin is at fault for his arrest. If he is innocent, his policy will provide him with the best defense money can buy. But I need to know the absolute truth. What we’re getting from the government, frankly, isn’t helpful.”
“He’s innocent! I swear it!”
Kane smiled, patting her arm again. “I’m sure he is, and I’m sure you want to help him. And the best way you can do that is to tell me everything you know.” He stared back at his notes for show. “Now, was Mr. Minkin meeting with someone when the police raid occurred?”
Again, she hesitated, though only for a moment. “Yes.”
“And the name of that person?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Kane regarded her. “You don’t know, or you can’t remember?”
“I don’t know. He made the appointment himself and only told me to block off the time. I don’t know who she was.”
“She?”
“Yes.”
Kane removed a photo of their suspect and held it up. “Is this—”
“That’s her! She tried to kill Yury!”
Kane’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“When the police raid began, I entered his office to tell him, and she was attacking him with a letter opener.”
“A letter opener?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
“Yury told me to lock the doors and go for lunch, and to not come back until I heard from him.”
“What about the woman? What happened to her?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, but I never got a chance to leave. The police were already on the floor. When they went in Yury’s office, they brought him out, but not the woman.”
Kane leaned back in his chair. “Interesting. Where do you think she went?”
“She had to have gone down Yury’s private elevator. That’s the only possibility.”
“And where does it lead?”
“Well, any floor he wants, but only he has access, so he must have put her in. She must have gone to the basement level. There’s an escape route that almost nobody knows about.”
“But you know.”
She blushed. “Yury used it to get me in and out when his, umm, well.”
Kane chuckled. “It’s okay, Ms. Lobanov, my firm represented your husband during the, shall we say, scandal. I know everything.”
She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “That’s a relief. I hate lying, but I love Yury so much.” She eyed him. “Do you believe in destiny, Mr. Kane?”
Kane regarded her for a moment. If he had been asked that a few years ago, he would have said no, but the number of things that had to have gone wrong in the world, and the number of things that had to go right to bring him and Fang together, made him a believer. “Yes.”
She smiled broadly. “Then you’re a romantic like me!”
“I suppose I am. And two people meant to be together should never be kept apart.”
“Exactly!” She leaned forward and patted his knee. “You do understand!”
Kane brought them back on track, the woman now putty in his hands, two hopeless romantics working together to thwart the powers trying to prevent destiny. “Now, why wouldn’t he have gone with her?”
“Would you get on an elevator with a woman who just tried to kill you?”
Kane laughed. “I suppose not. But if she had just tried to do that, why do you think he saved her?”
Her eyes darted away and she became uncomfortable. “I, umm, don’t know.”
Kane leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I think you do, and I think the Russian government knows too. The only way we can prepare for his defense is if we know everything.”
She sighed. “Very well.” She stared him in the eyes, the earnestness making the cynic in him wonder if she truly did, in fact, love Minkin. “I can’t be sure, mind you, but I think he was giving her something. Something, umm, well, not good.”
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