The Silenced

by Brett Battles

  “Palavin continued his work in Moscow, honing his craft and becoming a master at extracting confessions. A KGB star. Most of those he interviewed never saw the outside of Lubyanka again. Their voices silenced, never to be heard by the people who loved them again.” She paused. “If you had been working for him, Mr. Quinn, you would have been kept very busy.”

  Quinn ignored the comment. “What drove him to take on the Englishman’s identity?”

  “By the late eighties, he realized the Soviet Union was heading for disaster. We all did. Only he had a way out, and decided to take advantage of it before it all crashed down. With the body count he’d amassed, he had to know if he stayed his own life would be in danger.

  “In 1988, he ordered his double to return to London. It was the first time the Englishman had been in the U.K. since he’d been a child, and what family he had there, he’d lost contact with long ago. The important thing for Palavin was that the U.K. Border Agency recorded the Englishman’s entry back into the country from Hong Kong.”

  She fell silent.

  “And then?” Quinn asked.

  “Palavin killed him, and became him. At that point, Nikolai Palavin disappeared.” She paused. “Like a ghost.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  Petra exchanged a look with Mikhail. He started to say something in Russian, but then stopped, and said in English, “What will it hurt?”

  She nodded in agreement, then turned back to Quinn. “A man named Dombrovski brought us together. Mikhail, myself, and the others back in Moscow who have helped us, we all suffered at the hands of the Ghost. Some of us were victims who survived his interrogations. But most of us lost relatives and loved ones to his methods.” She looked at her partner. “Mikhail’s brother, tortured then killed. Kolya, our friend who died in Maine, lost his parents. Others in our group, too, lost brothers, sisters, whole families. All taken from us, silenced by the Ghost.”

  Mikhail took up the story. “Dombrovski had been a KGB doctor, but he had made the mistake of helping one of Palavin’s victims. The Ghost then tortured him, keeping him from death only because he was KGB. Though several years in a labor camp in Norilsk probably felt like death. When Dombrovski returned to Moscow, he found that his wife and his son were dead. More victims of the Ghost. But at the time, the only thing he could do was remember. It wasn’t until the Soviet Union dissolved that he saw his chance. He tried to locate Palavin to bring him to justice, but it was too late. Palavin had disappeared.”

  “Obviously, your friend didn’t let that stop him,” Quinn said.

  “Of course not,” Petra said. “Dombrovski knew he needed help, so he reached out to other victims and family members. He made sure those of us who were most dedicated got the best training possible. Mikhail and myself spent over two years learning what we could from a former army intelligence officer who had lost a cousin to the Ghost. But all the training wasn’t getting us any closer to finding Palavin. For years there was no trace of him. Some thought that he was dead. But not Dombrovski, and not me. Then, seven weeks ago, we finally caught a break. Dombrovski learned Glinka was still alive and living in Moscow. He’s the one who told us what had happened to the Ghost. And he’s the one who told us about the picture.”

  “I thought you said he was loyal to Palavin.”

  “He was, even to the end. But we … encouraged him to be helpful. He told us most of the names of the Young Leninists. But he never gave up the Englishman’s name.”

  “So you used the same tactics that the Ghost used?”

  “No,” she said, her teeth clenched. “The Ghost tortured for no reason. We are trying to bring justice to the dead.”

  “Distinction noted,” Quinn said.

  She waved him off like it didn’t matter. “We set out to try and find one of the others in the photo Glinka had identified, hoping they could give us the name of Palavin’s twin. But we had barely left Moscow when Palavin learned of Glinka’s betrayal, then used his contacts to track Dombrovski down.” She fell silent.

  “His people forced Dombrovski to tell them about you. Am I right?” Quinn asked.

  She looked at him, her eyes hard. “Dombrovski was old, frail. But he told them nothing of us!”

  “How do you know that? You weren’t in the room.”

  Mikhail sat forward. “You are right. We weren’t there. That’s why we had taken the precautions Dombrovski himself had trained us to use when we set out on our mission, including using multiple IDs as we traveled. We didn’t realize it, but that was a potential weak point. You see, Dombrovski knew who created them for us. He could have given Palavin that information. Yes, he told the Ghost’s men we were out here looking for him, but he didn’t give them the name of who had provided us with our documents. If he had, we wouldn’t be here talking to you now. Dombrovski kept that secret to the end.”

  “So not knowing exactly who you were, Palavin starting eliminating the others from the photograph?”

  “Unfortunately for us, yes,” Petra said. “Don’t you see? You’re our last hope. Do you know the name of the Englishman? Do you have some way of getting ahold of him?”

  Quinn stared at her for a moment, then stood up without saying anything. He put the group photo in his pocket and crossed over to Orlando.

  “Please,” Petra said. “We’ve told you everything. We’re so close. Just a little help is all we ask.”

  “Why not go to the Russian government? Get them to help you?”

  “Our government has more than its share of old KGB still in it,” she scoffed. “His old comrades would block any attempt to bring him home. Even if they didn’t, the government would not want him back, because of the embarrassment he could cause. Many in our country have moved on. They’d rather forget the past than deal with it. Mikhail and I and the others who have helped us knew long ago if we wanted justice we would have to obtain it on our own.”

  Quinn frowned to himself. “Give us a moment,” he told Petra, then motioned for Orlando to follow him to the edge of the entryway.

  “I think she’s telling the truth,” Orlando said.

  “Yeah, I think so, too,” he said, then glanced at the bathroom. “Keep an eye on things out here for a few minutes.”

  She smiled. “Be my pleasure.”

  As Quinn stepped over to the bathroom door, Petra spoke up again. “Do you know how to reach the Ghost? Are you going to help us? Please, tell me.”

  He grabbed the handle of the door. “I’ll let you know in a minute.”

  Annabel’s eyes grew wide as Quinn stepped into the bathroom. He flipped on the light and pulled the door closed behind him.

  She was sitting on the toilet, her mouth gagged, her hands and feet tied.

  “Hope you didn’t think we forgot about you,” he said.

  He turned on the water and filled one of the glasses on the counter. When he was done, he set it down and stepped over to the MI6 agent.

  “I’m going to take the gag off,” he said. “If you utter one syllable that is not an answer to one of my questions, I guarantee you will regret it. Is that clear?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m deadly serious. Any slip and you will never see the outside of this room again.” She nodded again.

  He reached behind her head and untied the gag. She coughed as it fell from her mouth. Quinn picked up the glass of water and held it in front of her.

  “Take a sip.”

  Her first attempt ended in another fit of coughing. The second time, she managed to get some down.

  “Better?” he asked after a moment.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice strained. “People are going to be looking for me. You should let me go now.”

  “That’s a slip, Annabel. I’ll let this first one go, but that’s it. Are we clear?”

  She took a breath. “Yes.”

  He set the glass down on the sink and crouched in front of her. “I believe you played me.”

  Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean
?”

  He pulled out his phone and accessed the picture of him at the Grand Hyatt. “Recognize it? It’s from the last time we met.”

  She looked at the phone, then back at Quinn, confused.

  “Didn’t expect me to see this, did you?” He smiled. “You took it, then sent it to someone who is trying to harm someone I love.”

  “I didn’t … I … I …”

  Quinn raised the gag so she could see it. “You’re very close to that second offense.”

  She fell silent.

  “You took this photo.”

  “Yes.”

  “Who did you send it to?”

  “My office.”

  “Okay, we can go with that for a moment. Who did they send it to?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Quinn moved the gag toward her mouth.

  “I’m telling the truth,” she said quickly. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize they’d sent it to anyone.”

  Quinn pulled the photo Petra had showed him out of his pocket, unfolded it, then held it out so Annabel could see.

  Her reaction was uncensored surprise.

  “I take it you’ve seen this before,” he said. He then accessed the headshot of Palavin on his phone and held it up for her to see. “And I know you remember this photo. If I remember correctly, you said you were told this man might show up at the meeting I was having with Wills, but you didn’t know who he was.” He paused, but she remained silent. “That was a lie, wasn’t it? You did know him.” He paused. “He looks a hell of a lot like an older version of this kid, don’t you think?” He used the phone to point to the young Palavin in the group shot.

  Her gaze moved from one image to the other, then to Quinn’s face.

  “You’re not a low-level analyst, are you?” he said.

  “Why would I have lied about that?” she asked.

  “Because you wanted me to think you didn’t know what was going on. You wanted me to figure out the connections myself, and leave MI6 out of it.” The pieces had fallen together for him as Petra had told her story. “You planted that picture in your briefcase. That’s why you were at the Hyatt in the first place, to somehow get me that folder. You hoped once I had it I’d try to find out who the man was. And then maybe I’d dig a little deeper to see why he was so important.”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Palavin,” Quinn said. “That’s the man’s name. He’s also known as the Ghost. Or did you not know that either?”

  She did know it. He could see it in her eyes.

  “You were trying to push me in a direction,” he went on. “And it worked. Only better than you thought, because I also figured out what you were doing. Now, Annabel, this is what I need from you. First, I know Wills’s client was Palavin, but I want you to confirm that for me.”

  A slight hesitation, then an even-slighter nod.

  “Good. Second, David told me the job was passed to him through MI6. It was through your division at Wright Bains, correct?”

  Another nod, this time with a sense of resignation.

  “Through you directly?”

  She stared at Quinn for several seconds. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Mighty important task for a low-level analyst.”

  “I’m a case officer.”

  “Field cases?”

  She shook her head. “My department is tasked with handling defectors and other sensitive foreign nationals living in the U.K.”

  “Like Palavin,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “Well, isn’t that interesting. Did he come to you or did you go to him?”

  “It was all before my time.”

  “That’s not very helpful,” he said. “I’d be happy to turn you over to my two other guests. I’m sure they’d love to get ahold of someone who worked directly with the Ghost.”

  “It’s not like that!”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m good at my job. I love doing work that helps protect my country. But this …” She paused. “This wasn’t right.”

  Quinn waited for her to go on.

  “When Robb contacted—”

  “Robb?” Quinn asked, not recognizing the name.

  “That’s what he goes by now. Trevor Robb.”

  The name Petra was so desperate to know, Quinn thought. “Go on.”

  “When … Palavin contacted us, I had to look up his file just to know who he was. Former KGB. Arrived U.K. in 1988. According to the report, he’d already established himself as Trevor Robb, but he’d left Moscow in a hurry and had arrived with only limited funds.”

  “So he came to you for money, is that it?”

  “Yes. He agreed to share what he knew in exchange for enough cash to make him wealthy, and the promise that we would provide whatever protection he deemed necessary for the remainder of his life.”

  “That’s a pretty steep price.”

  “Apparently his information more than compensated for his demands at the time.”

  “But not now,” Quinn said.

  “He hasn’t been an active asset for us for many years. I understand he still tries to keep his fingers in things, but nothing we would be interested in. Then we heard from him a little over a month ago that his life was in danger, and that we were bound by our agreement to protect him. He was an inactive client I inherited from previous case officers, so it fell to me to arrange what he wanted. I talked with his representative, who laid out their plan, and instantly I knew it was something MI6 couldn’t touch. I took it to my superiors, thinking they’d instruct me to tell Mr. Robb to go to hell. But they didn’t. They agreed we shouldn’t be directly involved, but they felt it was important we stick to the deal. There are British interests at stake. It was decided that we would pass it on to one of our contractors, giving them a story that they would find plausible.”

  “David Wills, and suitcase bombs for North Korea?” Quinn said.

  “You’ve figured a lot out.”

  Another connection surfaced in Quinn’s head. “Did you set him up with a computer information specialist, too? Someone to dig into the histories of those working for him?”

  She looked away. “That … that we kept in-house. One of our top hackers was assigned to the project.”

  Quinn stared at her in disbelief. “You’re telling me your little group there at MI6 is responsible for the danger my … people are facing?”

  “Whatever Palavin’s done with the information is all on him,” she said quickly. “We had no idea what he wanted it for.”

  “No idea?” he yelled. “That does not absolve you!”

  “Hey, everything all right in there?” Orlando asked through the door.

  “Fine,” Quinn shot back. He locked eyes with Annabel. “If anything happens to them, anything, then I will kill you myself. That’s not a threat, nor a promise. That’s a fact.”

  She sucked in a nervous breath, but said nothing.

  Quinn allowed himself a moment to calm down, then said, “Once you passed the job onto Wills, why didn’t you just let it go then?”

  Her lips trembled slightly as she spoke. “This wasn’t something that was furthering national security. It was eating me up. When I found out Palavin had planted a man on Wills’s teams, I knew I had to do something.”

  “Wait. Planted?”

  “A man named Mercer.”

  “Mercer? David said Mercer was his man.”

  “Cover story. Mercer’s mission, as I later found out, was to not only make sure the targets were neutralized, but also to liquidate the strike teams after each mission. Donovan and his men, they’re all dead now. The same is true for Freeman in Los Angeles and the people he was working with.”

  “What?” Quinn said, shocked. “They’re all dead?”

  Annabel looked at the floor, then nodded.

  Quinn was silent for several seconds as he let it all soak in. Finally, he said, “Mercer was at the park after W
ills was killed. My Russian friends in there think that Palavin was responsible. Are they right?”

  She nodded. “We’re almost positive. The dead woman in the park is a freelancer Palavin has been in contact with before. We think she’d been hired to tie up loose ends.”

  Quinn shook his head. “Then why didn’t she wait until I showed up? I’m a loose end, too.”

  “You showed up?”

  “He was in the park to meet me.”

  She stared at him. “We didn’t know that, and Palavin probably didn’t know that either. If he did, he would surely have had her wait.”

  If Wills hadn’t told anyone who he was meeting at the park, Quinn thought, only that he was going there …

  Then it hit him. Mercer.

  Wills had undoubtedly used him for security. Except instead of watching Wills’s back, Mercer had let Palavin know the plan.

  Then he realized something else. The body removal from the Alexander Grant Building, the job most anyone could do, now he understood why Palavin wanted him to do it. It was meant to be Quinn’s last job. Once he turned the remains over, he would be eliminated, too.

  “If Palavin’s so afraid of being uncovered, why doesn’t he disappear again?”

  “Disappear? You don’t understand him at all. He spent decades preparing his post–Soviet Union identity, and even more decades living it. He’s not going to give up the life he created that easily. And with the support of his agreement with British intelligence, his ego is large enough that he feels he doesn’t have to, that he can rid himself of the problem with several well-placed bullets.” She shook her head. “He’s a monster. All these people he killed in Moscow, we should have never helped him cover that up.”

  “Spare me your guilt.” He paused for a moment, then said, “So I’m the only one left on the Ghost’s removal list.”

  “Not after he finds out what I’ve done to help you.”