by Tom Grace
‘Money. I have money, lots of it. I’ll give you ten million dollars to let me go.’
‘How the fuck are you going to get me ten million dollars?’
‘I have accounts, in Switzerland. Personal accounts,’ Orlov rambled nervously. ‘I can wire the money anywhere you like, with a phone call.’
‘You had Swiss accounts.’
‘What?’
Kilkenny placed the barrel of his Glock at the base of Orlov’s skull, then leaned close to the oligarch’s ear.
‘Everything you owned is gone. Your companies. Your investments. Your numbered Swiss accounts. Your real estate. Every fucking thing in your billion-dollar portfolio is gone, and I’m the guy who took it from you. Hell, the only thing I didn’t get is the change in your pockets.’
Kilkenny pressed his pistol deeper into the flesh of Orlov’s neck.
‘You’re going to kill me?’ Orlov shrieked.
‘A coup de grâce would be appropriate, don’t you think, considering what you did to Sandstrom and Paramo and a lot of other people who had the misfortune of coming into contact with a disgusting parasite like you.’
A bright flashlight flooded the tunnel.
‘Kilkenny!’ a voice shouted from the far end.
‘The Alphas are coming, and they seem to want you alive. I guess I’d better finish this now.’
Kilkenny leaned back, the Glock still poised to blow Orlov’s head open.
‘Kilkenny!’ Fydorov shouted, fast approaching – more footsteps behind him. ‘Let us handle Orlov!’
As Kilkenny squeezed back on the trigger, he shifted the barrel of the Glock two inches to the right. A burning flash erupted from the pistol as Kilkenny’s last round ripped through the top of Orlov’s ear, struck the floor, and ricocheted into the black distance of the tunnel.
‘You’re in luck, Orlov. I missed.’
Orlov fainted, and a small pool of blood formed beside his head. Kilkenny stood as Fydorov and two Alphas arrived.
‘Did you kill him?’ Fydorov asked, looking down at the motionless form.
‘Not my style. I’ll let the courts deal with this scumbag. Do you still have gulags over here?’
‘I’m certain an appropriate home can be found for him.’ Fydorov turned to his men. ‘Get him out of here.’
‘I’m glad you figured out where I went,’ Kilkenny said.
‘That little explosion you set off left no doubt. Come on, let’s get your injuries taken care of.’
67
AUGUST 1
Moscow, Russia
A young FSB officer led Kilkenny through the corridors of Lubyanka, as the former offices of the Rossiya Insurance Company had been known since Lenin’s secret police commandeered the building in 1918. After the assault on Orlov’s building, Kilkenny was taken to a private hospital for treatment of his injuries, then discharged and returned to his hotel for the night. The next morning after breakfast, he was escorted to Lubyanka for questioning regarding the Orlov affair. His interrogation was merely a matter of courtesy.
‘You are finally here. Good, have a seat,’ Fydorov said with a smile as Kilkenny entered his office. ‘That will be all, Lieutenant.’
The officer snapped a crisp salute, turned on his heel, and departed down the corridor.
‘How is your arm?’ Fydorov asked.
‘Fine. The docs say it’s just a separation; I have to keep it in a sling for a couple of weeks. They say I might have some tendonitis in the joint.’
‘I am relieved that your injuries weren’t more severe.’ Fydorov’s manner grew more somber. ‘I have received a message from our President. On behalf of the Russian people, he extends our gratitude to both you and Bart Cooper for your assistance in bringing Orlov and his associates to justice.’
‘I guess the appropriate thing to say would be pazhálsta.’ Kilkenny then laughed.
‘What do you find amusing?’
‘Nothing, really. It just struck me a little odd that, after everything that’s happened, I can be thanked for my “assistance” in this matter. It sounds like I changed a flat tire for the guy.’
A toothy grin transformed Fydorov’s stern face. ‘Politicians. They have the unnatural ability to state things in such a way as to render the words utterly devoid of meaning.’
‘I see some things are universal.’
‘Da. Death, taxes, and politicians, who are often responsible for some of the former and all of the latter.’
Fydorov reached down and picked up a black, softsided briefcase, which he set on top of his wooden desk.
‘This was retrieved from the lab; I believe it belongs to you.’
Kilkenny unzipped the briefcase; his laptop was inside.
‘Our technicians were very impressed with your computer, particularly with the internal satellite modem.’
‘It turned out to be quite useful in tackling Orlov’s network. Did you get everything you need?’
‘Da. Your associate Grinelli was most helpful in unlocking Orlov’s secrets. I realize that we may not have as sophisticated computer equipment here as you do in the United States, but how did you take so much information out of Orlov’s network in so short a time? It took hours for my people to download the information Grinelli sent them.’
Kilkenny sucked in a deep breath through his teeth. ‘I’m afraid I’m not allowed to answer that.’
‘State secret. I understand,’ Fydorov replied, withdrawing the question. ‘We have an entire team of people sifting through the information you and your associates siphoned out of Orlov’s various businesses. This investigation will go on for years, and before it’s done, a lot of very powerful individuals will have to explain their dealings with Orlov. This may result in some much-needed housecleaning in the executive and legislative areas of our government.’
‘Sometimes, a little revolution is a good thing.’
‘Oh, I have something else that I believe belongs to you.’ Fydorov picked up a wooden box from his credenza and placed it on his desk. ‘We found this in the vault at Orlov’s bank.’
The side of the box bore a University of Michigan library bar code label. Kilkenny opened the lid and saw Johann Wolff’s six notebooks.
‘There is no need for these books to remain here as evidence. Cooper told me of their suspected importance, and I agree with him that they should be put back in the hands of their rightful owner.’
‘What about all the lab equipment that was stolen by Leskov?’
‘Dr Avvakum was most helpful in identifying those materials in her lab that she believes were stolen. These items have been packed and will be sent back to the United States.’
‘Thank you,’ Kilkenny said gratefully. ‘This is a great help in getting Ted Sandstrom’s research back on track.’
‘Regarding this research project you are involved in, I have a favor to ask.’
‘Oh,’ Kilkenny said, wondering what possible conditions Fydorov might have in exchange for the equipment and the notebooks.
‘Dr Avvakum has been completely cleared of any criminal involvement in this affair. Unfortunately, due to circumstances well beyond her control, she now finds herself unemployed. Cutbacks in the Academy of Sciences budget make it unlikely that she will be rehired there, not that I believe she wishes to return to her former posting in Siberia.’
‘Are you saying she needs a job?’
‘She has expressed an interest in continuing to work on this project. Do you think this Sandstrom might have an opening on his research staff for someone with her qualifications? I understand she’s quite a gifted physicist.’
‘I’ll talk to Sandstrom about it,’ Kilkenny replied. ‘He’s going to need someone who understands the work to help out while he’s getting back on his feet.’
‘Excellent. I’ve already spoken with officials at your embassy. There will be no problem with her visa or work permit. In fact, I’ve even made arrangements for her to fly back with you.’
‘How convenient.’
‘Yes
, isn’t it? When Cooper explained your plan to me, he said that two of the goals were the retrieval of the notebooks and the liberation of Dr Avvakum. I can think of no better way to honor my old friend than to see that Avvakum has the opportunity to choose what she will do with the rest of her life.’
Kilkenny recalled the conversation he had had with Cooper during the flight to Moscow, and nodded his head. ‘I think he would be pleased.’
‘There is one more thing. I’ve taken the liberty of making a small change in your flight back to the United States. Instead of Detroit, you will be arriving at Washington, D.C. I didn’t want to send Cooper’s body home unescorted.’
Kilkenny stood and extended a hand across Fydorov’s desk. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you, Igor Sergeevich. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Fydorov replied, grasping Kilkenny’s hand with firm respect.
68
AUGUST 2
Washington, D.C.
Upon their arrival at Dulles Airport, Kilkenny and Avvakum were met by a Customs official who whisked them through the border-entry process in near record time. Once their passports were stamped, they gathered up their carry-on baggage and entered the airport’s main concourse, where CIA director Jackson Barnett and Cal Mosley stood waiting for them.
‘I wondered who expedited our arrival paperwork,’ Kilkenny said as he walked toward Barnett and Mosley.
‘I heard you got a little banged up over there, Nolan,’ Mosley said. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Other than a few dings and some jet lag, I’m fine.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘It’s good to see you again, Mr Kilkenny,’ Barnett said.
Kilkenny reached out and shook Barnett’s extended hand. ‘And you, too, sir. If I may, Dr Lara Avvakum, I’d like to introduce you to Jackson Barnett and Cal Mosley. They were associates of Bart Cooper’s.’
Avvakum smiled and offered her hand. ‘A pleasure to meet you, gentlemen. My condolences on your loss.’
‘Thank you, Dr Avvakum, and welcome to the United States,’ Barnett replied, his voice and manner rich with Southern warmth. ‘Bart Cooper was a unique individual whom I, and many other people at the Agency, will dearly miss. On behalf of the CIA, I’d like to thank you both for escorting him home.’
‘It was the least we could do,’ Kilkenny acknowledged.
‘I am certain that you want to get home as quickly as possible, Nolan, and I apologize for the layover that this stop has added to your journey. By way of compensation, I’ve made some dinner reservations for the four of us at an excellent restaurant not too far from here. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘I’m starved,’ Avvakum said, appreciative of Barnett’s gesture.
‘It beats spending a couple of hours waiting here. Are we dressed appropriately?’
‘You’re both fine,’ Barnett replied. ‘Dr Avvakum, if you’d like to freshen up a bit, Cal and I need to have a word with Nolan in private.’
‘Sounds like business,’ she replied. ‘I should be presentable in about ten minutes. Will that be enough time?’
‘More than enough. Thank you.’
Avvakum picked up her overstuffed carry-on bag and walked toward the ladies’ room. When she was out of earshot, Barnett turned to Kilkenny, his face serious.
‘Nolan, from what Bart and Cal told me, the concept for this operation was your idea.’
‘In broad strokes, yes, it was. Cal, Bart, and my friend Grin can certainly take credit for fleshing out my idea and making it work.’
‘He’s being modest, sir,’ Mosley said. ‘This was his show from the beginning.’
‘I was up to my neck in this, Cal. Vested interest.’
‘I appreciate that,’ Barnett said. ‘I’m just pleased that you came back in one piece, more or less. Mosley painted a very bleak picture should Orlov have succeeded in acquiring ownership of this quantum technology.’
‘In the long term, Orlov could have been in control of an industry with significant influence over the global economy – kind of like a one-man OPEC. Now that we got it back, quantum technology can evolve as it should in a free market.’
‘When we first met, a little over a year ago, you were in the thick of a technological problem that was, in many ways, of the Agency’s own making,’ Barnett said. ‘I am pleased to learn that my decision to leave that Spyder with you and your associate has proved to be a fruitful one. You’ve not only improved the device but applied it in a manner my operations planners hadn’t yet contemplated.’
‘The Spyder is very amenable to improvisation.’
‘Yes. Now I find you involved in rescuing a technological advance of enormous magnitude that somehow slipped past all the analysts working for me.’
‘Progress often comes from the most unexpected places.’
‘True, but the Agency’s job is to look for the unexpected and to protect the industries and technologies that underpin our economy. Industrial espionage is the most serious threat our nation has ever faced, and more and more the CIA is being drawn into cases involving technologies that few people have ever heard of. This is the second time you’ve risen to the challenge, Nolan. Twice now, you’ve proved to me that someone with your unique expertise would be of immense value to the Agency.’
‘Are you offering me a job?’ Kilkenny asked.
‘In a manner of speaking.’
‘Sir, I have the job I want at MARC and, frankly, I don’t think I would make a very good spy.’
‘I disagree, but I’m not asking you to be an agent. In fact, I’d prefer that you remain at MARC, where you will continue to be exposed to promising technological developments. You see, your value as an adviser to the Agency demands that you retain a level of professional objectivity.’
‘Define adviser,’ Kilkenny requested suspiciously. ‘Do you want me to report on private-sector research? On who is working on what? There are both legal and ethical problems with that.’
‘I understand your reluctance, but I believe your participation in this effort is crucial.’ Barnett looked straight into Kilkenny’s eyes. ‘I have the authority to reinstate you in the navy and have you reassigned to the CIA.’
‘I think I understand your motive, and I agree with it, but this isn’t the way to do it. You said it yourself, my value as an observer depends on my ability to work. If word ever got out about this relationship you’re proposing, there wouldn’t be one researcher in this country who’d even talk to me. Then there’s the issue of nondisclosure agreements; reporting to you would be a violation that opens MARC, the CIA, and me to a lawsuit that we would, in all likelihood, lose.’
‘There has to be some way that we can come to an agreement, Nolan. This is an issue with grave implications for national security, and it’s not going away anytime in the foreseeable future.’
‘I think there is a way. What if the CIA was to become a client of MARC’s? In that kind of business relationship, I could provide you with assistance on technological issues on an as-need basis.’
‘Much like our current arrangement involving the Spyder?’
‘Exactly. We come to each other with specific issues, like the theft of Sandstrom’s research by Orlov. If it ever got out that I was working with the CIA on something like that, the research community would probably hail me as a hero of intellectual-property rights.’
‘As well they should. I think what you’re proposing is workable, Nolan, and I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.’
‘I think so, too, sir.’
‘If we’re going to be working together, you’re going to have to drop the sir. Call me Jackson.’
‘All right, Jackson.’
‘Welcome to the team, Nolan,’ Mosley said.
69
AUGUST 3
Ann Arbor, Michigan
‘Hello,’ Kelsey called out from the base of the barn’s spiral staircase. ‘Is anybody home?’
‘Morning, Kelsey,’ Nolan answered. ‘C’m
on up. I’m in the kitchen.’
The loft smelled of bacon and brewing coffee. Nolan cracked the last egg into a bowl, dropped the shell into the sink, and then stopped to listen to the rhythmic patter of Kelsey’s ascent up the metal stairs. He turned just as she reached the landing, backlit by the morning sun pouring through the east windows. She wore a light denim short-sleeved shirt over a white tank top and a pair of white cotton shorts. A waterfall of blond hair cascaded past her shoulders, shimmering as she walked. Though he’d spoken with her on the phone several times since her release, this was the first time they had seen each other.
‘Aren’t you going to meet me halfway?’ Kelsey asked as she approached the kitchen.
‘No. I’m just gonna stand here and watch you walk toward me, while I mentally undress you each step of the way.’
‘Why do it all in your head?’
‘Because I still have a couple of houseguests who’ll be back from their morning run any minute now.’
Kelsey wrapped her arms around Nolan’s neck, careful of his injured arm, and kissed him hungrily. ‘More than enough time.’
‘Kelsey, my love,’ he said as his free hand roamed the length of her back, pressing her body into his, ‘for what I have in mind, we’ll need the rest of the day.’
‘Oooo,’ she purred. ‘I like the sound of that.’
They kissed again, patiently savoring the sensation. The fears of the past few days evaporated with the reality that they were both back where they belonged.
Below, they heard the door to the stair tower open; Dawson and Gates were back from their five-mile run.
‘Yo, Nolan,’ Dawson shouted loudly from below. ‘I see Kelsey’s car out there. Is it safe for us to come up?’
‘We’re decent, Jack,’ Nolan shouted back.
Dawson and Gates began thundering up the staircase.
‘I don’t know that I’d ever use the word decent in describing you, Nolan,’ Gates said, his voice echoing up the stairwell, ‘even if you are fully dressed.’
