by Tim Tigner
Max paused to allow the horrific scene to sink in before he continued painting the picture of Operation Sunset. “Ignaty will know the airline schedules ahead of time, and will aim for a zero hour that has all fifty in the air, and a bunch landing. His fifty drone pilots — working out of a warehouse in Shenzhen — will engage all the Sunset systems at once. Those that aren’t landing will start a dive toward a close, previously-selected major airport terminal. Hysteria and confusion will reign for twenty minutes or so. Then the operation will be over, and the paralysis will begin.”
“The paralysis?” Katya asked.
Max nodded, no joy in his eyes. “For starters, you’ll still have about five thousand aircraft in the air. Many with no place to land. All afraid to be next. That’s over a million hysterical people — people who, along with their families, are unlikely to ever fly again.” Max began counting off points with chops of his hand.
“Pictures of smoldering airports will be on every smart phone and television screen within minutes of the first crash.” Chop.
“People will be fleeing the remaining airports like they’re radioactive.” Chop.
“Air traffic control will order all aircraft out of urban airspace.” Chop.
“The authorities will start evacuating rural highways to use as landing strips. Within a few hours those million-plus passengers will be on the ground someplace other than their intended destinations.” Chop.
Max spread his hands. “How long do you think it will be before the government allows any commercial aircraft into U.S. airspace? How long before they even figure out precisely what happened?”
“Months, at a minimum,” Achilles said. “Then they’ll need to develop preventative measures. That will take years, as will repairing the airport terminals. The American psyche will take even longer.”
“Why?” Katya asked. “Why would Korovin want to do that, even if he could get away with it? How does Russia benefit from terrorist activity?”
“It will cripple the U.S. economy,” Achilles said. “The U.S. isn’t just a military powerhouse, it’s an economic one. This will bring America’s economy down closer to Russia’s size. The military will follow.”
Achilles felt the puzzle pieces snapping into place as he spoke. The plan was multidimensional, and absolutely brilliant. The picture in his mind grew larger, large enough for him to bring it full circle. “It will bankrupt Vulcan Fisher. Once the investigation reveals that it was the VF autopilot systems that enabled the terrorism, they’ll be crushed beneath lawsuits. All work will stop on Operation Sunrise.”
Max nodded his head with a grim smile.
“Someone else will just pick that up, won’t they?” Katya asked.
“Not possible,” Achilles said. “You can be sure Vulcan Fisher has filed dozens of patents on enabling technologies. Those will be tied up in legal battles for years as VF shareholders try to maximize their value. Plus the budget will be gone, used to rebuild airports.”
Max folded his hands across his chest. “Very good. In the course of a single hour, Korovin will cripple his chief rival’s economic engine and derail the most significant military operation since the Manhattan Project. On top of all that, America’s biggest creditor and trading partner will take the blame. All without a single Russian casualty.”
That cinched it for Achilles. He was all-in on Max’s plan. He was going to crush Korovin, and Sobko, and Grachev. “Switzerland, here we come.”
PART 4: ASSASSINATIONS
Chapter 75
Shots Fired
The Kremlin
PRESIDENT KOROVIN began each morning with his personal trainer. Workouts were the closest thing in his life to a religion. Still, on this special occasion, Ignaty felt comfortable disrupting his boss’s sacred time.
Korovin was on the elliptical machine when Ignaty slipped into his private gym. The boxing champ who trained him was voicing encouragement, and Korovin’s legs were pumping at an impressive speed, but the president’s focus was on the TV screen. He wasn’t watching a motivational movie or the latest news. It was a famous American talk show host, interviewing Julian Assange.
Ignaty jumped in, speaking loud enough to be heard over the whirring mechanism and blaring television. “What is it with you and Charlie Rose? I thought we were done with him.”
“He’s coming back for another helping,” Korovin replied, referencing his earlier interview with Rose.
“He’s not your friend.”
“He’s not my enemy either. I want the Americans to get used to having me in their living room.” Korovin paused the recording, but didn’t slow his stride. “What have you got for me?”
Ignaty laid his smart phone on the elliptical’s control panel. It displayed a gruesome photograph.
The president studied the picture without any discernible change of expression. “Looks like the last guy who pissed off Shark,” he said, referencing his trainer. “Who is it?”
“That’s Achilles. Zoya hit him in the face with a pair of marine binoculars swung by the strap.”
“He’s dead?”
“He’s dead, and she’s back with Max in Seattle.”
The elliptical beeped three times as Korovin completed the circuit, reinforcing the victorious mood.
Shark backed away as the president slowed to a stop with a contemplative expression on his sweaty brow. “Did Achilles talk to anyone?”
“She says no. The APB did the trick. Kept him isolated.”
Korovin grabbed his hand towel and wiped his face. “How close are we on Sunset?”
Ignaty knew better than to expect an attaboy for eliminating Achilles. Still, some kind of acknowledgement would have been nice. “That’s not clear yet. The Chinese hackers are still working the shippers, but there’s no magic involved so I’m not anticipating a problem. We should know soon.”
“Are we certain the Chinese don’t know they’re working for us?
“We’re certain. Everything flows through Wang, and Max is the only person in contact with him. And you know Max. You’d peg him as British or German or even Israeli before considering Russian.”
Korovin tossed his sweaty towel back at Shark, but kept his eyes on Ignaty. “Okay. Keep on him. We dodged a bullet with Achilles. Let’s make sure that’s the last one Silver fires before his planes start dropping from the sky.”
Chapter 76
Feeding The Beasts
Seattle, Washington
ZOYA WAS ANGRY. She was angry with Korovin for involving her in his devious plans. She was angry with Max for not standing up to him. She was angry with Achilles, for outsmarting her with the amulet. And she was angry with Katya for being so nice. But most of all, Zoya was angry with herself.
Still, she had a job to do, and this one had its challenges. It was testing her acting skills to be flirting like a schoolgirl while boiling on the inside. Of course, on this job her acting skills were secondary to her appearance. In fact, if she looked half as good in her yoga outfit as Katya did in hers, then the quality of her acting might make no difference at all.
She and Katya actually did have similar appearances and could easily pass as cousins if not sisters. They were both slim and on the tall side of average height. They both had the pronounced jaw and cheek lines common among Russian women, complemented by otherwise regular facial features. Katya just had a lighter color pallet — hair, skin, and eyes — and was athletic looking, whereas Zoya gave a more sultry vibe. The big difference was that at twenty-eight, Katya was younger by ten years.
Zoya redirected her coquettish gaze from the man working out across the gym toward her partner in crime. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this of our own accord.”
Katya looked up from her hamstring stretch. “Can you think of an alternative?”
They were at Summit Fitness, taking advantage of a free trial membership to seduce Billy Richards. A muscle-bound former supply officer who’d given the Army twenty years, Billy was now the regional manager for Sol
id Green, a shipping company that specialized in high-security short haul transportation.
The shipping records obtained by Wang’s hackers showed that Vulcan Fisher used Solid Green for shipments to Boeing. But contrary to earlier promises, the hackers had been unable to learn the specifics of future shipments. They whined that Solid Green’s defense-grade servers were sealed up tighter than scared oysters. The best the hackers could do was supply the women with a flash drive and a fresh plan. If Zoya could open their file on one of Solid Green’s networked computers, the drive would auto-install a back door. Then Wang’s hacker would have free reign to view and modify whatever they wanted.
Two days of observation and research had led the women to believe that Billy was their best bet. He had an obvious weakness. Given all the time he spent before the mirror at Summit Fitness, he was clearly too fond of himself. Tonight they hoped to exploit his narcissism.
Zoya put her flexibility on display with eagle pose, and replied to Katya with a hushed voice. “My failure to invent an alternative is what’s eating me. I’d been upset with my president and my fiancé for colluding to use my sexuality to get their job done, but now that I’ve got the opportunity to orchestrate my own operation, I’ve cast myself in the sex kitten role again.”
Katya gave her an understanding smile. Of course, Katya would understand. She was every bit as beautiful as Zoya had ever been, and she was still in her prime. “The male sex drive is one of the most powerful forces in nature. It’s universal, its— Wait a minute, your fiancé? I didn’t know you and Max were engaged. But then of course you wouldn’t have worn your ring to …” Katya’s words trailed off. She’d inadvertently opened a sensitive subject.
“It was a foxhole proposal,” Zoya replied, already feeling better after her moment of venting.
“What?”
“Max literally asked me to marry him on the way into the meeting with Korovin. He took a knee right there in the marble hallway. Speaking of which, I’ve got to tell you about Korovin’s vacation house. Un-be-lievable! But later. The show’s about to start.”
Billy was working his way around the free-weight circuit. They’d positioned themselves on mats between the benches and the mirrors. Right next to the big dumbbells. Zoya was playing a hunch.
She’d been stealing glances at Billy for the past twenty minutes. Always just long enough to get caught and blush. Finally it was time for his dumbbell routine.
Billy went for the largest pair, of course. The pair not three feet from her head.
“What on earth are you going to do with those monsters?” she asked him.
“Just feeding the beasts,” he said with a wink.
She stood as he took a seat on a bench. “I gotta see this. I thought those big ones were only there for show.”
Billy swung the dumbbells up as he dropped to his back. He was trying to make it look easy, but popping veins betrayed the strain. Zoya counted out loud as he started pumping. She increased her pitch with each count, so that by the time he reached eight, she was ecstatic.
After he’d reversed the positioning move, swinging the dumbbells down while sitting up, she said, “Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Not if you do it right.”
“Is there a trick you can show me?”
“Sure. We might want to start with something lighter though.”
After half an hour of private coaching, Zoya made her move. “Well, thank you, Billy. I hope to see you again sometime.”
He reacted like she’d poked his eye, but recovered quickly. “Well, how about dinner? I know a great place just up the road. Best surf and turf around.”
“I’d love to, but I have to get my roommate back to her computer so she can work. Maybe some other time.”
“Your friend can join us.”
Zoya put her hands on her hips in a way that puffed out her chest. “Nice try. But as I told you, she has to work. She teaches math online. Her class starts in forty-five minutes, and it will take us forty just to get home.”
Billy was not going to be so easily deterred. “Let her take your car. I’ll bring you home after dinner.”
Zoya put a pout on her face. It was a childish expression that Max always said he found sexy for some inexplicable reason. “She can’t drive. She’s just visiting from the Ukraine. That’s why her class is starting at this hour.”
“What if, ah, what if … Can she use any computer? My office is just across the street. Nice and safe and quiet. High-speed internet. We’ve even got tea. Ukrainians drink tea, right? I could set her up real nice.” Zoya struggled not to flinch as he draped one of his sweaty beasts around her shoulder and turned his hungry gaze to Katya. “Maybe we could even bring dessert back to the office.”
Chapter 77
Emergency
Zurich, Switzerland
“THAT’S OUR MAN,” Max said. “Severin Glick.”
Achilles studied the Swiss banker through powerful binoculars. Thick white hair, elfin ears, red marks from reading glasses on a long, thin nose. In a bathing suit, he didn’t resemble a banking titan, but put him in a couture three-piece and throw some silk around his neck and he’d look quite at home on the cover of Forbes. He certainly looked fit for a man of sixty years.
They were perched on the limb of a mighty oak tree, up the hillside overlooking Glick’s estate. As the sun peeked over the hill to their backs, Achilles watched Korovin’s money man do a graceful dive into his backyard pool and begin swimming laps while the water bled heat into the crisp mountain air.
Max continued the briefing. “He’s one of seven senior partners at The Saussure Group. Because Saussure is a privately-owned bank, I don’t know much more. Obviously, I wasn’t able to use SVR assets to investigate.”
Achilles set down his binoculars. “How did you manage to connect him to Korovin in the first place?”
As Max looked over, Achilles knew they were thinking the same thing. Neither could believe they were having this discussion.
Theirs was a very unusual relationship, to put it mildly. There were lots of forces at play. Deep down it was clear to both that they had a lot in common. They just happened to be born onto rival teams. But then they’d spent their careers not just fighting hard, but killing and conniving and risking life and limb, to beat the other’s team.
The personal lives of the two spies further confounded their relationship. On the one hand, they were both paired with exceptional Russian women. On the other, Zoya had been married off to Achilles, by none other than Max’s boss, the very man whom Achilles had been assigned to kill.
Max acknowledged all this with a single nod of his head. It was a simple gesture, but it was enough, spy-to-spy and man-to-man. “I was in Zurich on another case. My academy roommate is stationed here at the embassy, so of course we caught up for a night out. We hopped clubs while he regaled me with tales of wild parties in Swiss chalets filled with flavored schnapps and hot tubs and willing women. He even invited me to one that coming Friday, but I had to pass.
“Then he called me early Saturday morning. He was stuck in Brunnen, but he had a standing appointment in Zurich he couldn’t miss. An envelope exchange.”
“Let me guess, with Glick?”
“Right, although he knew neither Glick’s name nor position. He’d been told the contact was Code 6 — a covert asset not to be engaged in any way.”
Achilles could see where this was going. “But as a secret stand-in, you weren’t threatened with Code 6 sanctions. So you indulged your curiosity, followed him, and learned his identity.”
Max smiled. “Nice guys who play by the rules don’t get ahead in the SVR.”
“Did you risk looking inside the envelopes?”
Max gave him a “What do you think?” grin. “The letter from Korovin had no to, no from, and of course no signature. Just two columns of code—notations like 1PPVLO and 5MSPTR.”
“Did you crack the code?”
“Yes. But only because I’d learned Glick’s id
entity.”
“As a banker?”
“Exactly. In that context, it’s relatively easy to decipher 1PPVLO into One percentage point of Valero Energy Corporation, and 5MMSPTR into five million shares of PetroChina Company.”
“How do you know if it’s a buy or sell order?”
“Simple bookkeeping convention. Debits on the left, credits on the right.”
“What about the return letter from Glick?”
“That one I couldn’t risk opening. The envelope wasn’t the same type we had at the embassy, so I couldn’t replace it with a fresh one, the way I had Korovin’s. I assume it was Glick’s weekly portfolio report.”
“You assume? We’re risking everything on your assumption?”
Max shrugged. “Remember the question I posed back in Seattle? How does a man who refuses to risk electronic communication manage his stolen billions?”
While Achilles mulled over the uncertainty that had just cast a big shadow over their operation, Glick hopped out of the pool and into a thick, royal-blue robe. By the time Glick disappeared into his home, Achilles came to the same conclusion as Max. The fact that he did, hinted at another potential problem. “Do you think your friend also figured it out?”
Max’s face scrunched. “In addition to Glick’s identity, he’d need Korovin’s personal eyes-only mail code, which he’d be very unlikely to have. That’s highly classified information.”
Achilles knew that mail delivered through diplomatic pouches often used codes rather than addresses to conceal the identities of both the sending and receiving parties. “How do you know Korovin’s personal code?”
“I didn’t know it at the time I followed Glick. But when I saw it on an envelope the day Korovin gave me the Sunset assignment, I put it all together.”
With Glick back inside, it was time to come out of the tree. Achilles went first. “So how do we turn Glick’s identity into a kill shot?”
