“The word is that you’ll retire in the next year or two. And even for a man of your rank, retirement pay is not enough to live a proper life.”
“I’m listening.”
“I was thinking about a 1 percent stake in Gazprom.”
“Five percent.”
Tarasov smiled. It was about the counteroffer he’d expected. “Two,” he said, and he held up a hand before the general could speak. “It’s not that big a favor for a man in your position, and 2 percent will net you a very comfortable retirement.”
“A seat on the board of directors?”
“Even I couldn’t guarantee such a thing, but I give my word as a gentleman that I would try.”
Kanayev only took a moment to consider before he nodded. “What do you want?”
“I need a man and his wife to be assassinated as soon as possible,” Tarasov said. “Three different attempts have already been made by some of the top shooters on the planet and have failed.”
“Who is this couple you want killed, and why?”
“The reasons don’t matter. Nor does the woman. But the man is important.”
“Who is he?”
“Kirk McGarvey.”
Kanayev almost laughed out loud. “He is a man with a considerable reputation. But to send one of my people to assassinate him is impossible, and you should know this. The blowback for a Russian soldier to kill the former director of the Central Intelligence Agency would be catastrophic. Shake the Kremlin walls, and I would get my nine ounces.”
“Not one of your men; I was thinking about a hit team of six operators. They would have to get to the Greek island of Serifos, where McGarvey and his wife have a home in a converted lighthouse, in secret, and get out again.”
“You’re insane.”
“The operation would be conducted in civilian clothes. False passports.”
“All the money in the world would do a dead man nothing.”
“Those who survived would receive five million euros. Each man who survived. Enough for them to set themselves up somewhere outside of Russia.”
“It would still come back to us.”
“Before they left, they would be given dishonorable discharges, which would effectively wipe your hands clean. They were rogue operators who had no place in the modern Spetsnaz that you control. You did your duty, painful though it was.”
“Intriguing,” the general said. “Why do you want this done?”
“The reason isn’t important,” Tarasov said. “Will you do it?”
“If I don’t, what then?”
“I’ll find someone else.”
“I could report this.”
“Da, but the decision is yours.”
Kanayev pursed his lips, but then took a cell phone from his pocket and entered a number.
“Put it on speakerphone,” Tarasov said. “Otkytost,” which was openness—or, since Gorbachev, transparency.
“Three Twenty-Ninth, operations,” a man answered.
“I wish to speak with Lieutenant Colonel Nyunin.”
“I’m sorry, General, the colonel is not on base at the moment.”
“Where is he?”
“In Moscow.”
“Have him call me at this number immediately,” Kanayev said, and he hung up.
“Who is Nyunin?” Tarasov asked. “Someone to be trusted?”
“Da. He is the commanding officer of the 329th Spetsnaz Special Purpose Detachment in Pskov Oblast, and he will have to be paid as well.”
“It’s your operation, your money.”
“I will get nothing immediate from Gazprom. I’ll need operational money. Cash in any Western currency you choose.”
“How much?”
“An operation of this scope will be expensive. They will need off-the-shelf civilian weapons, civilian clothing, plus a long-range aircraft and crew capable of operating above nine thousand meters, and of course hush money to soothe their nerves as well as those of the officers who’ll have to participate in the court-martial.”
“Why such an aircraft?”
“The operation will have to be at night in total secrecy, which means the operators will have to make a HALO jump to the surface.”
“I don’t know this term.”
“They fly at such an altitude so that no one on the ground will hear them, and at the proper moment, the operators will jump out of the plane and go into free fall until they come within a few hundred meters of the ground before they open their chutes. High altitude, low opening.”
“What if they return home?”
“They will have to be eliminated before they talk. Anyway, who would believe a traitor?”
“What about your Colonel Nyunin? Can he be trusted?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because he’s my son-in-law.”
Tarasov liked it. “The question stands, General, how much?”
“In what currency?”
“Euros or Swiss francs, your choice.”
“Euros. I’ll need five million in cash for payoffs and another five million in an untraceable UAE account that I maintain for the aircraft and crew plus the equipment.”
Tarasov smiled. “Scratch a Russian and larceny comes out.”
“It’s a tough old world,” the general said. “Agreed?”
“The funds will be in place within twelve hours.”
FIFTY-FOUR
McGarvey and Pete took a cab back to their apartment in Georgetown, where they were going to pack a few things for Serifos, though they had just about everything they needed at the lighthouse, and it was the same for the Casey Key house.
“Are we just going to wait around until the shoe drops?” Pete asked once they got upstairs. “Or do we have a plan that makes sense?”
“We’re going to stay away from town, if that’s what you mean,” McGarvey said. Pete had been withdrawn ever since they had left Langley, and she was moody now. He was a little worried about her.
“You’re thinking about collateral damage.”
“Always have been. Before nightfall of our first day, we’ll stock up with whatever perishables we need and then settle in at the house.”
“We don’t have any surveillance out there, except for the perimeter Otto set up a couple of years ago. And now that the real Lou’s gone, we don’t have any contacts or procedures to borrow satellite time from the NRO.”
“All of it’s stored in one of Otto’s darlings, plus a couple of extra names and passwords Mary came up with.”
“If whoever is coming after us has half a brain, they could get past all of that,” Pete said. “We have on more than one occasion.”
“I know,” McGarvey said. “But we’re not going over for some R&R, so it’ll be watch on watch. You sleep at night, and I’ll sleep during the day.”
“For how long?”
“I think whatever’s going to happen is in the works right now.”
Pete shivered. “I wonder if the Chinese couple on Casey Key figured that taking us out would be their last op? Maybe they were planning on retiring, but they just took one last job, and it turned out to be the wrong one.”
“And?”
She took a moment to answer, and when she did, she looked into Mac’s eyes as if she wanted him to understand how serious she was. “What about us? Time to get out?”
He understood her pain and fear, things he’d felt for pretty much his entire career, and especially since the death of Katy. He took Pete in his arms and held her close for several moments. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it. Making a life for ourselves that would have some semblance of normalcy makes sense.”
“Good,” she said into his shoulder.
“But for now, we have to keep our eye on the mission.”
“Saving our lives.”
“Yes. And I have a feeling that you’re right about the Chinese couple thinking it was time to get out, and it’s why they made some mistakes that cost them their lives.�
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“Let’s not do the same,” Pete said. “And then we’ll go on a real vacation and figure out what’s next.”
McGarvey smiled. “Scout’s honor,” he said. It was one of Otto’s boyish phrases.
“Looks like you have company just outside,” Lou said.
McGarvey took his pistol out of its holster at the small of his back and went to the front window and looked across the street as a man was getting out of the driver’s side of a Caddy SUV. “Anyone we know?”
“Clarke Bender.”
The Cadillac’s windows were deeply tinted. “Anyone with him?”
“No.”
Bender locked the car door and looked up at McGarvey’s window, nodded, then came around the front of the car and started across the street.
* * *
McGarvey holstered his pistol and buzzed the front door to let the man in.
“I wonder what that little prick wants now,” Pete said. She was still keyed up.
“He may be a prick, but he’s just trying to do his job,” McGarvey said. “And he’s probably come here to try to talk some sense into us. So play nice.”
Bender took the elevator up, and McGarvey met him at the door. The CIA officer’s tie was loose, his collar button undone, the effect theatrical. And he smiled a little. “May I come in for just a minute, Mr. Director?”
“One minute,” McGarvey said. “We’re a little busy at the moment.”
“Packing. It’s what I wanted to talk to both of you about. That and offer my apology for coming off a little strong this morning.”
McGarvey stepped aside and let him in. “Apology accepted. What can we do for you?”
“The Bureau wants to offer you its help. We know that you’re going to your place in the Aegean to make a stand, but we sincerely hope it’s not Custer’s. And we think we can make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I explained to you and your boss that whoever’s coming next will be good. If you guys send over a team, it’ll just be more targets lined up in a row. But if it’s just the two of us, they’ll have to concentrate their forces, giving us a shooting gallery.”
“What do you think is going on?” Bender asked. “Who do you think is coming after you and why?”
“I don’t have an answer to either of your questions, except that whoever it is has deep pockets.”
“At the government level?”
“I think that would be too risky.”
“So do we. It’s a rogue operation, but do you think it’s someone here in Washington who wants you eliminated, maybe for something they may think of as past transgressions?”
“I don’t know.”
“You spread the word at the DIA and even the White House, for God’s sake. You were being provocative at the very least.”
There was no answer to that, and McGarvey didn’t reply.
Bender was getting frustrated. “Look, I came here to offer the Bureau’s help, and not necessarily in the form of a strike team, but information. We’ve traced money, and in one case gold payments, to three different banks around the world, just prior to the three attempts on your and Mrs. McGarvey’s lives. The gold was sent to a bank in Geneva, we believe to finance the Casey Key team.”
“Yes, we know.”
Bender nodded. “Otto Rencke,” he said. “But does he know that all three payments were made from blind accounts in three different banks, none of which we believe came from Russia, North Korea, or Pakistan, your three biggest enemy states? But we think it’s a real possibility that they may have come from the same source.”
“Otto?” Pete said.
“Good morning, Mr. Bender,” Otto’s voice came from out of the air.
Bender was startled, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Have you come up with a source?”
“We’ve identified a little more than two thousand possible sources, a half dozen from a Russian GRU group based in Amsterdam.”
“We discounted any with government connections.”
“These hackers work independently, much like the hackers who meddled with our elections a while back.”
“Ultimately, do you think the three attempts made on the McGarveys was an arm’s-length, Russian-directed operation?”
“We’re working on it,” Otto said.
“What else can you share?”
“One name, though it’s a remote possibility, so slim we’re only giving it less than 4 percent probability.”
“The name?” Bender asked.
“Thomas Hammond.”
FIFTY-FIVE
Hammond and Susan were just walking out of the Piaget Boutique jewelry store on Geneva’s ultraglamorous Rue du Rhône shortly after six in the evening when his Russian phone burred. It was Tarasov.
“You will have your team in place within forty-eight hours, but it’s going to cost you plenty.”
“How much is plenty?” Hammond asked.
“I want you to start the pipeline deal immediately.”
“Not until it’s done.”
“I’m not going to fuck around with you, Thomas,” Tarasov said. He was angry. “I’m out on a limb now, and if you don’t deliver what you promised, I’ll make sure that you regret it.”
Susan was only hearing one side of the conversation, but she clutched his free arm with some urgency.
“And don’t you fuck with me, Mikhail. We have a deal, and I’ll stick to my part of it, if and when you finish up. I have friends, too, who could easily shift the blame for everything onto the Kremlin, just like the election hacking shit not so long ago. I’m sure that your pal Putin could just as easily cut you loose, as he has others in your sort of position.”
The connection was silent for several beats, until Tarasov came back. “Are you someplace where you can talk?”
“On the Rue du Rhône, and the street is crowded, but no one is paying any attention to us.”
“I don’t need any money from you; I’ve taken care of it. I just want performance when it’s done.”
“Agreed. So who are you sending this time?”
“A team of ex-Spetsnaz operators. They’ll make a parachute drop over Serifos tomorrow night.”
“Why not tonight?” Hammond demanded. “Get it over with ASAP.”
“Because the McGarveys won’t be in place until that afternoon. They’re aboard an overnight Emirates flight, which is scheduled to reach Athens in the morning. From there, they’ll have to take a ferry out to the island and get up to the lighthouse. By the middle of the night, they’ll be dead tired.”
“Dead is the only word I want to hear.”
“And that you’re working the pipeline deal is all I want to hear.”
“Then let’s see what turns out in the next forty-eight hours,” Hammond said. He broke the connection and pocketed the phone.
“Trouble?” Susan asked.
“The McGarveys are on the way to their island, and Mikhail is sending a team of six Russian special ops people to take them out. No screwing around this time.”
“Jesus, if this doesn’t work, are you going to have the Russians on our asses?”
Hammond looked at her. It was the first time in their relationship she had used the word our. “No, they need me just as much as we need them.”
* * *
Lieutenant Colonel Nyunin arrived by helicopter at his father-in-law’s dacha a couple of minutes after eight in a light but steady rain. He was a short man, athletically built with a pleasantly round face and a direct manner. Some said that he looked and acted like a young Putin, which wasn’t a bad comparison.
He was in uniform because he was on his way back to the base by military transport. One of the general’s aides met him at the helipad and drove him up to the dacha, where Kanayev was waiting. And they embraced warmly.
“It’s good to see you, Viktor,” Kanayev said.
“And you, Nana.” Papa.
“Let’s take a walk,” Kanayev said.
Nyunin understood perfectly why his father
-in-law wanted to go out even though it was raining. In Russia, even for a general, one had to assume that the walls had ears. And he was curious what the old man wanted.
Nyunin took an umbrella from the stand at the back door, but Kanayev only put on an old cap. The days had been warm for Moscow, and the rain had cooled things down and cleared the air of Moscow’s smog that oftentimes reached this far out.
They didn’t speak until they were on the path down toward the lake. Kanayev went first. “I have an urgent project for you that has to be put in place within twenty-four hours and completed within forty-eight.”
“Yes, sir,” Nyunin said. He was one of the youngest lieutenant colonels in the Russian army, but he was wise beyond his years and was well respected because he not only knew how to take orders but how to carry them out.
“An American couple who will be holed up at their home in a converted lighthouse on a Greek island in the Aegean have to be eliminated. But the operation must never be traced back as an official action by any unit of the Russian government, including mine.”
“Who are these people?”
“Kirk McGarvey and his wife.”
“Yeb vas,” Nyunin said softly.
“Indeed,” Kanayev said. “I’ll give you the number for a man who has the operational details. He is to be completely trusted. And he will provide you the necessary untraceable funds in euros for you to run the operation up to ten million. If there is a surplus, which I’m almost sure there’ll be, it will be yours.”
They stopped. “If something like this had come from anyone else—any officer other than you—I would have immediately said no, even if he and I were related,” Nyunin said. “And it would be the very first order in my entire career that I’ve ever refused.”
“This is important.”
“But the former director of the Central Intelligence Agency?”
“An enemy of Russia, but that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“It needs to be done.”
“How?”
“Pick six of your best men, ask them if they would like to be rich, and offer them five million euros each in cash plus a dishonorable discharge.”
Gambit Page 23
