The Lies Of Spies (Kyle Achilles Book 2)

by Tim Tigner

  “And the cost for lowering the bridge is twenty million.”

  “Precisely.”

  “You little weasel. We don’t have twenty million.”

  “I’m sure you can get it. I’m sure you could get a billion if required to. But I want to keep things simple. Twenty million is a very modest price, a pin-prick, not decapitation.”

  “It will take some time.”

  “Of course. But I expect you’ll get a rapid response. Twenty-four hours should give you plenty of time. And just so you know, Bitcoin works ‘round the clock.”

  Katya left him hanging for a few ticks. “Where and when do we meet?”

  Wang chuckled before replying in a derisive tone. “Oh, there will be no meeting. No communication either. I’m about to paste my account number on our message board. You’ll need to switch the 6s and 9s. Repeat that back.”

  “We’ll need to switch the 6s and 9s.”

  “Good. When the money shows up in my account, I’ll post the activation code. Same rule applies to it. Switch the 6s and 9s. Are we clear?”

  “How do we know you’ll deliver the code once we deliver the money?”

  Wang was ready with a one word answer. “Logic.”

  “Logic?”

  “If I weren’t satisfied with that sum, I’d be asking for more. Good enough?”

  No arguing with that, Zoya thought. He could have asked for twenty billion.

  “Good enough,” Katya said.

  “Are we clear?”

  “Yes, we’re clear.

  “Good. Because we won’t be speaking again.”

  Chapter 98

  The Plan

  Seattle, Washington

  ZOYA WAS GLAD that Wang was blackmailing them, because it meant she’d get to speak with Max. Familiarity with Ignaty’s mindset would be important to their discussion of Wang’s treachery, and Achilles didn’t have it.

  Once Katya explained the situation to Achilles, he agreed. Max came on speakerphone a few seconds later. “I’m sure Ignaty will wire the money. No doubt the Bitcoin requirement will have him cursing the walls, but Wang was smart to stick to a modest figure. Paying is a no-brainer.”

  Just hearing Max’s voice imbued Zoya with a calm she hadn’t felt in days. As that warm blanket settled over her shoulders, hope began winning the battle raging in her heart.

  “That’s good to hear,” Katya said, nodding along with Zoya.

  The women were in a roadside motel room whose highlights included a grimy window overlooking a parking lot, and a heating unit louder than a lawnmower. Once their part of Sunset was completed, they’d decided to distance themselves from the scene. Both had longed for a five-star resort with room service and fine linen and spa treatments that would wash away the stresses and strains of Korovin and Wang. But both had opted for a place that took cash without questions and resolved not to think about all the mileage on their mattresses.

  Achilles was the next to speak. “Is the Bear working? Do you have a map of Wang’s location?”

  “We’re not sure,” Katya said. “His beeps are coming from the middle of Puget Sound. Either there’s a malfunction, or he’s on a boat, or he tossed the umbrella on a garbage scow. We didn’t want to risk investigating without your guidance.”

  “I think he’ll ditch his wife before that umbrella,” Max said. “But the Bear’s not going to be much use tracking a moving target. We need to keep tabs on him until this is over. He may become crucial to our operation at some point. With so many variables in play, it’s impossible to predict. I also worry about him selling Sunset to someone else, a terrorist group with lots of money, for example.”

  “What does it matter?” Zoya asked. “You can alert Boeing. They’ll remove the autopilot systems.”

  “We don’t want the story to get out,” Achilles said. “Korovin had a brilliant idea. Best it dies with him.”

  “Agreed,” Max added. “I’d hate to risk spooking the public. That would give Korovin part of what he wants. What’s all that noise I’m hearing?”

  “That’s the heater in our motel room. It’s not the Ritz.”

  “We’ll get you to the Ritz when this is done. Meanwhile pack up and go after Wang. Don’t engage, just observe.”

  “Do you still have the tracking pellet I put in Zoya’s necklace?” Achilles asked.

  “Sure. We kept it.”

  “If Wang is on a boat, and you can find it, getting that pellet aboard would solve our tracking problem. Assuming the battery still has juice.”

  The ladies looked at each other, pleased. “Okay. We’ll call you for instructions when we know more.”

  Achilles popped their balloon. “I’m afraid we might not be available. We’re going to be flying and then pretty intensely engaged. You’ll need to play it by ear. Just don’t take risks. And don’t let Wang spot you.”

  “Use binoculars, and move at night,” Max added. “If conditions look right to place the tracker, don’t step onto the boat, he’ll feel that. Work from the dock, out of sight of any window.”

  “Where should we put the pellet?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Achilles said. “The signal will work from anywhere. Just squeeze some epoxy into an inconspicuous corner and push the pellet inside.”

  “What if he’s not docked?”

  “That’s when things get tricky. If he’s on open water, you might need to get creative.”

  Zoya watched Katya processing all this. She had a habit of running her fingernails over the palm of her left thumb: one two three four, one two three four. And her fingers were really flying now. “What if he’s not on a boat? What if he found the Bear and tossed it?”

  “You’ll think of some other way to find him,” Achilles said. “You’re two of the smartest people on the planet. But cross that bridge when you come to it. Don’t borrow trouble for now.”

  “So this is it?” Zoya asked, her voice cracking. “You’re actually going to Russia to do that thing?”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Max said.

  “We could just run away. With all that money, surely we could work something out.”

  “We didn’t earn that money, and we haven’t earned our freedom. You know the deal we made.”

  Zoya looked over at Katya. “Surely Achilles won’t hold you to that. Not after Wang and Zurich and everything else we’ve done.”

  Katya looked like she wasn’t sure how Achilles would respond, giving Zoya a sinking feeling. Before she could protest, Max made the issue irrelevant. “This is important, Zoya. You’ve seen first-hand how Korovin thinks, and how ruthless and committed he is. He has to go. I’ve got the opportunity, and I’m going to take it.”

  “But—”

  Max cut her off. “They say you don’t get to choose your fate, but at least now I know mine.”

  Chapter 99

  Two Sentences

  Black Sea Coast, Russia

  THE WINDY CLIFF out in front of his seaside home was Korovin’s favorite place in the world. With the Black Sea slapping rough rocks far below, the expansive green garden blooming fragrantly behind, and an endless blue horizon marred only by the occasional cloud, it was an analogy of his life.

  At the moment, however, he wasn’t reflecting on the prosperity he’d created or pondering the challenges ahead. He was focused on the danger all around, contemplating the penalty for a single misstep. But not with dread.

  Oddly enough, he loved precarious positions like this.

  Only those who took the greatest risks could reap the grandest rewards.

  Korovin looked down at the letter in his hand for the third time. Just two simple sentences, but a lot to digest.

  He wasn’t aware of Ignaty's presence until his strategist spoke from just a few steps behind. “We’ve done it!”

  Korovin turned his back to the wind and faced the man he’d summoned. “What have we done?”

  “I just received confirmation from my man at Boeing. The Sunset units have arrived!”
<
br />   Korovin couldn’t help but smile inside. What a coup! With one bold stroke he would cripple his greatest rival and make another take the fall. You had to go back 3,300 years to the Trojan Horse to find a tactic as ingenious and grand. “No hitches? No glitches? No unexpected developments?”

  “Just one.” Ignaty paused for dramatic effect as he tended to do. “Wang discovered what we were up to and figured out how to exploit it. The sly fox added a component during the assembly operation. Now Sunset won’t engage without his encryption code. He wants twenty million for it. Paid in Bitcoin.”

  Korovin wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly with the wind. “Twenty million? With an m, not a b?”

  Ignaty nodded. “Paid in Bitcoin. Obviously he doesn’t know it’s us. Max says Wang’s convinced he’s dealing with a terrorist operation.”

  Korovin gamed it out in his mind.

  Ignaty waited.

  When the president looked up, his analysis complete, Ignaty said, “So we’ll pay Wang, get the code, then kill him.”

  “No.”

  “No? No to the payment, or no to the killing? Surely we won’t let him get away with blackmailing us.”

  Korovin threw a derisive look at his chief strategist. “Who won’t let him get away with it? Pride doesn’t factor in when you’re anonymous. Besides, we’re better off having Wang out there. No doubt he’s skilled at evasion. Best to keep the FBI busy tracking him.”

  Ignaty took a moment to ponder Korovin’s insight. “And if they catch him?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Ignaty nodded deferentially, quickly catching on once pointed in the right direction. “You’re right.”

  “Bitcoin works nonstop, right?” asked Korovin.

  “24/7/365.”

  “All the same, tell Max to make no contact for 48 hours. I want Wang to sweat. Make the transfer Monday evening, just before the banks close.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Ignaty turned to leave, but Korovin grabbed his bicep. “That wasn’t why I summoned you.” Korovin raised the letter. “This was.”

  “What is it?”

  “Glick’s weekly report.” This time it was Korovin who paused for dramatic effect.

  The solution to the stock scandal had eluded the president. His mind tended to untangle perplexing puzzles in the middle of the night. When the international press called him a tactical genius, they had no clue it was usually his unconscious mind they were complimenting. But this time there was nothing to compliment. The summit had come and gone, and he was still bamboozled.

  With Glick appearing ever more innocent, Korovin kept coming back to the only other person who knew the whole story. He kept coming back to Ignaty.

  He looked Ignaty in the eye. “Glick says he thought of something important, something he forgot to mention in Zurich. He’s coming here tomorrow to tell me about it in person.”

  Ignaty's eyes grew wide. “He can’t be seen with you.”

  “He won’t be. For the record, he’ll be at a resort in Sochi, just like Max and Zoya.”

  Ignaty shifted his gaze to the sea. “What do you think he remembered?”

  “I don’t know.” Korovin waited for Ignaty to look back over before adding, “But I’d kill to find out.”

  Chapter 100

  The Return

  Black Sea Coast, Russia

  MAX LOOKED DOWN at the rocky coastline whizzing by below at 260 kilometers per hour. As surprising as his first helicopter flight to Seaside had been, Max found his return trip even more remarkable.

  This time the Ansat’s cargo included a Swiss banker, an ex-CIA agent, and an EMP device.

  This time he was in disguise and at the stick.

  This time he knew the game plan, but Korovin didn’t.

  As his president’s summer home came into view on the horizon, Max was certain that no fewer than two anti-aircraft systems had their missiles locked on his exhaust. But he couldn’t spot the stations. And he knew he’d never see the missile coming. Not at 3,000 meters per second. If Korovin had somehow seen through the ruse, Max’s world would go from light to black without a blink in between.

  He reached up to scratch his face, but stopped himself in time. His silicone mask was driving him crazy. It itched inside. Mila hadn’t warned him about that, and Achilles hadn’t said a thing after his Charlie Rose impersonation. If it was an allergy, he hoped it wouldn’t cause his face to swell. It was mission-critical that his face look normal when the mask came off.

  No time to worry about that now. Max alerted his passengers to their position. “We’re on approach.”

  “It’s remarkable,” Glick said. “I was expecting extravagance, but this is also enormous.”

  “It’s a fortress,” Achilles replied.

  In the role of Alex Azarov, a Zurich-based member of Korovin’s staff, Achilles had been pouring on the charm ever since they picked up Glick at his home earlier that morning. Collegial chit-chat, kind gestures, and supportive expressions, all designed to put the banker at ease. “Korovin runs it like a fortress, too,” Achilles said. “Do yourself a favor, and keep quiet until we’re alone with him. I understand the guards speak English poorly, so you’d be wise not to risk an unfortunate misinterpretation. Beautiful though it may be, for the men working security it’s a high-stress environment.”

  Glick’s white eyebrows shot up. “You understand? You don’t know?”

  “Like you, I work for Korovin internationally. I’ve never been to Seaside, but I’ve heard rumors.”

  “I didn’t realize,” Glick said. “And I see your point. Thank you.”

  “One other piece of advice,” Achilles said. “Don’t let them separate us.”

  Glick blinked non-comprehension.

  Achilles clarified. “People disappear when there are no witnesses.”

  Glick paled, then turned back to the window.

  Achilles did the same.

  Max returned his gaze to the windshield. He and Achilles would be walking multiple tightropes over the next few minutes, jumping from one to another like circus performers on steroids.

  Achilles’ first act was getting Glick to Korovin before Glick figured out that he hadn’t actually been invited. Meanwhile, Max had to finagle his way into the guardroom without arousing suspicion. Once they were both positioned, the serious acrobatic acts would begin.

  Max watched with growing trepidation while a black Mercedes sedan and a matching SUV pulled up on either side of the central helipad. He announced the sighting to his passengers. “The welcoming committee has arrived.” Ten seconds later he put the skids center-circle on the concrete.

  Achilles ushered Glick out the door and toward the limo as Max powered down. He looked back to meet Max’s eye before stepping into the Mercedes. They’d be completely reliant on each other for the remainder of the operation. If either slipped up, neither would leave Seaside alive.

  The SUV driver walked over as Max stepped out of the powered-down bird. Just one guy, but sized like a Siberian mountain. “You’re with me,” he said, his deep voice rumbling like thunder.

  Max extended a hand. “Arkady Usatov.”

  “Anton Guryev.”

  “Mind if I sit up front?”

  “Suit yourself. It’s a short drive.”

  Max slid in and Guryev hit the gas.

  “Where will I be waiting?” Max asked, trying to get his thoughts off his itching face. Surely there weren’t really ants crawling all over it.

  “There’s a lounge you’ll find comfortable. We call it the Waiting Room.”

  “Could you take me to the security office instead? Colonel Pushkin is an old friend.”

  Guryev raised a brow. Just one. “You know Igor Gregorivich?”

  “We were close at the academy.”

  “Does he know you’re coming?”

  “No. I’d forgotten he was here. Just remembered on the way in. I’d love to see him. It’s been a while.”

  Guryev turned his h
ead in an open appraisal. Max looked back. The man had a jaw like a granite cliff. “I’ll look into that.”

  One way or another, Max had to get to the guardroom right away. If finesse wouldn’t work, he’d have to use force. “I’m just not sure how long we’ll be here. I got the impression my guy’s meeting with Korovin would be very quick.”

  “I don’t know what Pushkin was like back at the Academy, but nowadays he doesn’t like surprises.”

  “It will be a pleasant surprise. I promise.”

  Guryev again raised one brow. “Suit yourself.”

  “Say, you don’t happen to have an allergy pill or three, do you?”

  “Ask Vanya when we get to the security office. He’s always sneezing. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  Rather than following Achilles’ sedan toward the underground entrance portico Max had used the last time, Guryev kept going around the side of the palace to a parking lot abutting a service entrance. It reminded Max of the back door to a large hotel, except that all the cars were black Mercedes. No private vehicles. Apparently everyone who worked there, lived there as well — boosting both security and secrecy.

  “How many people work here?” Max asked as they got out.

  “There’s a base of about twenty, but that doubles when the president’s in residence, which is most weekends. It quadruples if he’s got official guests.”

  “Not a bad gig.”

  “Best posting I ever had.”

  Watching Guryev cast a hulking shadow on the door, Max hoped Hans hadn’t been bullshitting about the FP1 dropping cattle.

  The service wing resembled the rest of the building. It boasted high ceilings and walls trimmed with ornate wainscoting, although no artwork was wasted on the space above.

  Guryev led him toward a vault-like steel door. “We’re in here.” He held his palm up to the scanner, but before the little red light turned green, the door swung open from the inside.

  Colonel Igor Pushkin stepped out.

  Max cringed internally at the stroke of bad luck. He needed to end up on the other side of the door, and he’d particularly wanted to be there when Pushkin first saw him, in case his disguise came up short.