by Saul Herzog
Olga nodded. “How do you propose we get inside the institute?” she said. “There will be soldiers everywhere. It’s a military compound.”
“You leave that to me,” Lance said.
Both women were looking at the dead soldiers.
“Why don’t you let me make a phone call first?” Sofia said.
“Who are you calling?”
“One of the scientists inside the compound.”
“Be careful what you say,” Lance said. “They might be listening.”
Sofia went to the landline and dialed a number. She looked surprised when someone actually picked up.
“Vasily,” she said. “Are you all right?”
Lance went over and pressed the speaker button the phone.
Vasily was whispering, afraid of being overheard.
“Sofia, where are you?”
She hesitated. “What’s the situation there?” she said.
“Don’t come here,” he said. “Get as far away as possible. Yevchenko and his men are asking everyone if they know where you are.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them you’d gone to the hospital.”
“They’ll think I’m dead.”
“No, they’re going to be conducting a manhunt for you. You need to go into hiding.”
“Hiding? Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about you? What are they going to do to you and the others.”
“Honestly …”, Vasily said, before his voice trailed off.
“What, Vasily?”
“We’re the enemy now, Sofia. They’ve brought in a new team from Moscow. They’re handing everything over to them.”
“Who are they?”
“They’re from the Fifteenth Directorate. They’re packing up our samples, our methodology, everything, and taking it all back to Moscow.”
“What’s going to happen to you, Vasily?”
“There’s nothing you can do for us, Sofia.”
“Vasily.”
“They’re going to kill us, Sofia. All of us.”
58
Roth was left waiting in the Eisenhower Building’s library for over an hour. As he stared into the flames of the log fire, he began to doze. When someone finally arrived, they had to wake him.
“Roth,” a tall man with tightly curled red hair said. Then louder, “Levi.”
“Oh,” Roth said, rousing himself, “Mansfield. You’re here?”
Mansfield rubbed a finger on the side of his mouth to indicate Roth had been drooling.
Roth wiped his mouth and began to stand.
“Please,” Mansfield said. “Don’t trouble yourself.”
Roth, looking up at Mansfield’s youthful vigor and dashing good looks, suddenly felt very old and very tired. Mansfield was everything Roth was not, and never would be, regardless of how hard he tried. Mansfield had attended all the best schools, knew all the right people, and was a member of all the right clubs. At Princeton, there was a library named after his grandfather. At the Annapolis Yacht Club, he had the best mooring, right next to the clubhouse. And at the Berehaven Country Club, he’d been given an honorary lifetime membership on his seventh birthday.
Roth still remembered the very polite letter he’d received from Berehaven when he applied for membership. That was over forty years ago now, back when he still entertained the possibility of hobnobbing with the local elites. The letter said he was ineligible for membership without specifying why, and despite the fact he’d been on a waiting list for three years, was willing to pay the sixty thousand dollar initiation fee, and had been invited by current member, and then CIA director, David Connery.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Roth said.
Mansfield smiled thinly. “Straighten yourself up for the president, Roth,” he said. “You look like a bum.”
There was a crystal water tumbler on the table and Roth poured himself a glass. He was just taking a sip when the president’s foghorn voice preceded him into the room.
“Gentlemen,” he bellowed.
Even now, after all these years, his Maine accent still sounded to Roth like a cross between a pirate and the Beatles.
“I was beginning to worry you didn’t want to see me,” Roth said.
“Of course I wanted to see you,” the president said, butchering the words.
President Montgomery wasn’t a tall man, Roth had a good six inches on him, but he was as thick and muscular as a bulldog. Everyone, from New York Times cartoonists to the editorial board of the Economist, compared him to Winston Churchill. This was because of his physique, his manners, his clothing, and the enormous cigars he perpetually smoked. He’d won some notoriety for himself by lighting them up even in the nation’s most hallowed government buildings, driving zealous public health officials straight to their Twitter accounts in the process.
He had a cigar in his hand now, unlit.
Mansfield suddenly had a lighter in his hand and offered it to the president.
“Always ready to help,” Roth said.
“How about something to drink?” the president said, puffing on the cigar.
“Mr. President, if I can be so blunt as to get to the point.”
“By all means,” the president said, looking at Mansfield.
“My operation has been the target of a concerted attack.”
The president nodded. “Mansfield already briefed me on everything.”
Roth looked at Mansfield, who was nodding obsequiously at everything the president said.
“I see,” Roth said.
He would have liked to wring Mansfield’s neck for him. That would be one way of taking care of the nodding.
“Four strikes. All four assets out of action,” the president said.
“Yes, sir. Simultaneous actions in London, South Africa, Vienna, and right here in DC. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The president looked at Mansfield. Mansfield gave him a knowing nod, as if to confirm something they’d both already decided.
“Roth,” the president said, “according to my NSA bulletin, your operation has been completely and irredeemably compromised.”
“I admit there’s been a breach, sir.”
“From what Mansfield tells me, every Russian agent from Saint Petersburg to Yakutsk has been poking around your hard drive.”
“I think that’s an exaggeration, sir.”
“In any case, Levi, your group is in no position to act on the current situation?”
“Without any assets, sir, I’m afraid that’s true.”
“In that case, I’m handing responsibility for this current bioweapon threat over to Mansfield.”
Mansfield, still nodding like one of those Elvis car ornaments, looked like he’d just been made hall monitor by teacher.
Roth hesitated. He wanted to speak to the president alone, but didn’t know how to tactfully get Mansfield to fuck off.
“How about something to drink?” the president said again, stepping toward the drinks cabinet.
“Mansfield,” Roth said, “have you got boots on the ground in Yekaterinburg?”
Mansfield looked at the president, and the next thing he said made Roth want to knock his lights out.
“I think,” he said, “given the compromised status of your group, that I should keep my operation as compartmentalized as possible.”
“Careful, Harry,” Roth said, jaw clenched.
“Why, Levi? Did I touch a nerve?”
Roth took a step in Mansfield’s direction. “What are you implying?”
Mansfield took a step back.
“There’s no need for that,” the president said.
Roth took a breath. “Mr. President,” he said, “I have some other business to discuss with you.”
“I think this current crisis takes precedence, don’t you, Levi?”
“Sir, this refers to my captured agent.”
“Everlane?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you want to discuss it alone?”
“If we could, sir.”
Roth and the president had known each other a very long time. They’d had their run-ins, and they certainly didn’t see eye to eye on everything, but they’d steered the country through more than one crisis and they trusted each other.
The president knew Roth had a closer eye on national security strategy than anyone else in Washington, and despite the arrival of new favorites like Mansfield every once in a while, both men knew they’d still be there, manning their posts, long after men like Mansfield had come and gone.
“Harry,” the president said, turning to Mansfield. “You have enough to get started. I want a proposal to put before the Joint Chiefs by dawn.”
“But, sir,” Mansfield said.
“That will be all, Harry.”
“Yes, sir,” Mansfield said, turning to leave.
“Bye, Harry,” Roth said as he left.
When he was gone, the president said, “Couldn’t you at least try to get along with him?”
“I’m sorry,” Roth said. “He reminds me of my nephew.”
“The one who asked about your will?”
Roth nodded. “Sir,” he said, “I need to tell you something very sensitive.”
The president had poured them each a scotch and handed Levi his glass.
They sat down by the fire and the president said, “What’s really going on, Levi?”
“I have a rat in my house,” he said, easing into the subject.
“There are rats in every house,” the president said.
“The malware used in this breach was based on technology we know was developed by the Dead Hand,” Roth said.
“The Dead Hand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So they’re behind this?”
“It gets worse,” Roth said.
“What could be worse than that?”
“The breach required direct access to my office.”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean someone physically placed a device in my office.”
“Physically?”
“Sir,” Roth said, pulling a small electronic device from his pocket. “Someone walked into my office and hid this under the desk.”
The president took the device from Roth and looked at it. It was about the size of a matchbox, and looked like something you might buy to upgrade your computer.
“Levi,” the president said, “you’re telling me someone literally walked this into your office?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It wasn’t a remote hack?”
“They had inside help, sir.”
The president drained his scotch. “Mansfield’s right. We’re going to have to shut you down.”
Roth nodded. “Yes, sir, I’m flushing my team now. Setting breadcrumbs to see what filters back from Moscow. We’ll catch this mole by the balls.”
“That will take too much time.”
“I know, sir. The operation in Langley is shot, but I’m not shut down completely.”
“What do you mean, not shut down completely?”
“The Russians think they killed all of my assets.”
“But they didn’t?”
“They only got three of them, sir.”
“Three?”
“And the fourth, the one they missed, is Lance Spector.”
“Spector’s back?”
“And the Russians think they killed him.”
“Spector’s in play?”
“He’s in play, sir. And he’s in Russia.”
59
As Lance and the two doctors drove further south, the streets got quieter and quieter. There was very little traffic, and any they did see was military.
“Is it always like this?” Lance said.
He was in the driver’s seat, Sofia next to him, and Olga in the back.
“No,” Sofia said. “This is different. They brought in the army after the outbreak.”
“We might be pulled over,” Lance said. “If we’re stopped, you two show your credentials and tell them you’ve been summoned to the institute.”
“What about you?” Sofia said.
“I’m your driver,” Lance said.
“Will they buy that?”
“Who knows?” Lance said, squinting to see up ahead.
They were approaching the front gates and it was clear the compound was under heavy lockdown. Three Tigr infantry carriers blocked the entrance, their Pecheneg machine guns pointed out at the street. Overhead, a helicopter provided additional support.
Lance didn’t slow down as they approached the gate.
“Turn,” Sofia said. “Turn here.”
He kept going straight, below the speed limit, all the way to the main street in front of the compound, before turning left.
“It would have looked suspicious to take those alleys,” he said.
They were driving along the eastern perimeter of the compound and Lance examined the rusty chain-link fence as they passed it. It was about twelve feet high, and there was a second, taller fence behind it. The area between the two fences was about twenty feet wide, overgrown with brush, and not well lit.
“What’s this building here on the left?” Lance said, slowing down.
“I don’t know,” Sofia said. “I think it’s an office.”
They pulled into the parking lot behind the building and Lance stopped the car. He looked out at the building. It was dark. It seemed empty.
“You two stay here,” he said. “I’m going to take a better look.”
“What if someone comes?” Sofia said.
“No one’s going to come.”
“What if they do?” Olga said.
Lance sighed. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the CZ 75 pistol.
“Don’t use it if you don’t have to.”
“We’re not idiots,” Olga said.
Lance attached the silencer to the gun and handed it to Olga. “Don’t use it, Olga,” he said again.
He got out of the car and went to the trunk. He grabbed the bag containing the M82 sniper rifle and heaved it onto his shoulder. There was a fire escape overlooking the parking lot and he was able to use it to get to the roof of the building.
Once there, he set up the rifle on its bipod, attached the night vision scope and suppressor, and loaded it with .50 caliber armor-piercing rounds. He scanned the compound through the scope, identifying each building from the satellite surveillance Roth had shown him. He could see that the soldiers had concentrated at the two entrances, the one they’d just passed and another on the west perimeter. There wasn’t a lot of patrolling going on inside the compound. It looked like once they were inside, they’d have a clear path to the institute.
While most of the compound was quiet, the institute itself was a hive of activity. Soldiers and scientists were out front, hard at work dismantling the research equipment and loading it into the backs of military transport trucks.
From the data Roth had given him, he knew that only the inner perimeter fence was electrified. There were guard posts stationed periodically along it, each manned by two guards and a pair of attack dogs, but the posts were too far apart to provide adequate coverage.
Lance scanned the inner fence and found what he was looking for, the transformer that served the electrified fence. He took aim at it, adjusted for wind and atmospheric conditions, and pulled the trigger. A clean bang rang out into the night air.
As soon as the shot was fired, he got up, packed the rifle back into its bag, and climbed back down the fire escape. When he got to the car, the two doctors were leaning on the hood, smoking cigarettes.
“I’m sorry, ladies,” he said. “I’m not disturbing your break, am I?”
“What was that sound?” Olga said.
“Come on, let’s go,” he said.
They stubbed out their cigarettes and he opened the trunk. He pulled out a canvas carrying case and loaded it with plastic explosive
, charges, and detonators. He also took the bolt cutters. He put the sniper rifle back in the trunk and shut it.
Throwing the bag over his shoulder he said, “You two ready?”
The women nodded and followed him around the building. They stopped at the street and looked up and down carefully. Everything was quiet on both sides of the fence.
“We’re going in through the fence?” Sofia said.
Lance nodded.
She looked at Olga. “I think you’ve come far enough.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If we go in there, there’s no guarantee we’re coming back out.”
“I know that,” Olga said.
“I have to go in, Olga. This is all my fault. You can still get away.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with this guy,” Olga said.
“Olga,” Sofia pled.
“I’ve come this far,” Olga said.
Sofia sighed.
“Come on,” Lance said, leading them across the street.
Brush had grown up against the fence and it provided some cover. They crouched in it as Lance cut an opening in the fence. He led the way through the opening, into the no man’s land between the two fences.
There was no sign of the guards or their dogs, and they hurried across the gap to the second fence, where pictures of a man getting electrocuted gave Sofia and Olga pause.
Lance looked at them, then reached out and grabbed the fence.
They gasped. Nothing happened.
Lance grinned.
“Jerk,” Olga whispered.
He cut another opening in the fence, squeezed through, and held it open for the two women. Then they all ran to the closest clump of trees for cover.
Before them were a number of buildings and a long driveway leading to the front of the institute. The institute was one of the biggest buildings in the compound and it looked ominously imposing at the end of the road, the old fashioned street lights illuminating the soldiers and scientists loading the trucks.
“They’re wearing protective gear,” Lance said.
The scientists were in full hazmat suits, and the soldiers were wearing masks and surgical gloves.
“I know where we can find protective clothing and masks when we get inside,” Sofia said.
“Okay,” Lance said. “We’re going to cut along these trees by the road. Stay low. There’s still more danger from bullets than germs.”
