by Tomson Cobb
‘Right again. Sure as hell more than one person is dirty, at a high level as well. Because the FBI were leaking, the DNI decided to—’
‘Who?’
‘Director of National Intelligence. Chuck Coburn. Retired general. Good guy. I report to him direct, nobody in between. I worked with him in Afghanistan. Coburn coordinates all the agencies and reports straight to the President. Oversees maybe a thousand government organisations and more than two thousand private companies with around a million employees who have top secret clearance. It’s a big job.’
‘Does the President know that Coburn appointed you to do this work?’
‘No. Not my name, anyway. Only that a team’s been put together. Coburn doesn’t give him the detail of my reports. Sometimes it’s better so he can deny any knowledge of the investigation.’
‘Or Coburn doesn’t trust the West Wing?’
‘I don’t know. I just keep my head down,’ Shapiro said. Jago could see he’d hit a chord.
‘Okay, let’s move on from there. Did the FBI make any arrests in the period that they ran the enquiry?’
‘A few. Trouble was, they just took the small fry. The director got fired by the DNI. You may have read about his retirement. He’s still under investigation. That was the point that the DNI decided another approach was needed, so Coburn persuaded the President to allow him to set up a smaller, tighter team to take over from the FBI and appointed me to run it. I have a dozen people who report directly to me that have all worked with me before, so I know them like family. That’s all. I didn’t want any more or the risk of infiltration would be too high.’
‘You said you have access to all the agencies?’
‘Yeah. I do. I can override any of the Agency Directors if I have to, but so far that hasn’t been necessary. They all know about the original FBI investigation but not the details, apart from what ended up in the press. None of them were happy when they got the directive from the DNI that my team would take point on this now.’
‘I can understand that. The FBI screw up, then instead of another experienced agency being appointed to take over, Coburn decides on a small specialist team instead. You can’t be on many of their Christmas card lists, Tony,’ Jago said.
‘I don’t give a fuck. We have a big problem. The infiltration may already be much greater than we think. This organisation has expanded fast, so we have to catch up just as quick. I asked my team to start again. Got them to go through all the stuff the FBI had found again, then work from that point. We now have more information than before. The difference is, we’ve been able to keep it internal this time.’
‘What have you found then?’
‘We used the information that Simon’s team got on Chomsky then we looked for similar situations here. My team created a database of prominent businessmen with no visible sources for their newly acquired wealth who also had lots of links with degenerates from organised crime, or contacts within military and politics.’
‘That must have been a big list,’ Jago said with a weary smile.
‘Sure was. I told you my team is special. They’ve all worked with me before so I know what they can do. No need for complicated algorithms. This was old-fashioned investigation.’
‘I like your style, sir. Can I interest you in a martini?’
‘Huh?’ Shapiro grunted.
‘MASH. The original movie, not the TV series. Didn’t you go to see it when you were younger? Courting, maybe? It was great for a first date. If the lady didn’t start to laugh about five minutes in, you knew you were up against it.’
‘Oh yeah. I remember now. Donald Sutherland and Elliott Gould up to their shoulders in blood. Making wisecracks as they tried to save some poor grunt’s life. Now you mention it, I took my first wife to see it years ago. What’s that got to do with my team… oh, I see. Very funny I’m sure.’
‘Sorry my friend. You just threw me back in time. I can’t help it sometimes. The work we do isn’t low stress,, is it? We have to make our own fun on occasion. Just like those guys did in the film.’
‘You’re right, Jago. Sometimes I wonder whether our type of work is all it’s made out to be. It’s ironic you’ve mentioned movies,, now I come to think about it.’
‘Why’s that, Tony?’
‘Well, as you say we started with a long list, then we whittled it down to four people who met all the right criteria. All of them are connected but one sticks out from the rest. A guy called Wade Kruger.’
‘I’ve heard about him. The media in the UK and Europe have done a few articles on him. Mostly favourable so far. Okay. Start me from the basics. What’s the background?’ Jago said.
‘Only child. Father Russian, mother Italian. They ran a bakers shop in Hamburg for twenty-five years. Doted on him. Made sure he went to the best schools. Paid for every part of his education. Both dead. Died in a car crash on an autoroute near Milan on the way to Rome for a funeral of a friend of the mother.’
‘Where was Wade when it happened?’
‘New York. He’s lived here in the US since he got a scholarship to Princeton. Started as a small-time lawyer in the Midwest, grew the business into a small profitable operation with no great importance until five years ago. Suddenly came into big money, bought lots of commercial properties. Hotels, shopping malls, apartment buildings. All in the space of a few years.’
‘Just like Chomsky.’
‘Very. His PR shit says he inherited a small fortune from a long-lost aunt who lived in Switzerland, which he leveraged to get started.’
‘Did she?’ Jago was now wide awake, his reporter faculties engaged.
‘Yeah. Lived there on her own. Of course, we don’t know how wealthy she was because of the Swiss secrecy laws.’
‘Of course. Very convenient for him.’
‘Sure is. For her as well, while she was alive. He built up his businesses so fast, he was able to buy a film studio in Hollywood with the help of a group of investors.’
‘Who are…?’
‘That’s where we hit a wall. The money came from a small number of offshore companies in various tax havens. He’s the public face of that, plus the other dozen or so companies based here in the States and others around the world.’
‘I know this pattern already.’
‘I know you do, Jago. You’ve worked in this mire for years so you know your way around the offshore process. That’s why I wanted you on the team. Your little private organisation seems able to find information that even SIS can’t, which is why Toye’s bosses love you so much as well.’
‘I haven’t felt that love yet, Tony.’
‘Believe me, they do. I’ve seen it. They need you for your independent skills on their side of the Atlantic as well. You gotta believe it. Deniability is crucial everywhere in this game.’
‘I’ll take your word for it then. What more do you have on him?’
‘He spends a lot of time here in Washington. Has another office in New York, travels a lot around the country. He sucks up to any politician or media magnate he can,’ said Shapiro.
‘Properties where?’
‘He has many across the US. A fine house here in downtown DC, apartments in Manhattan, LA, Seattle, a condo in Key Biscayne with a sloop in the yacht club there. He even has a float plane moored alongside the house.’
‘For ease of access or a fast escape?’ Jago said.
‘Both, most like. He’s got another place in London, a yacht based in the Med, plus an apartment in Geneva.’
‘Done well then, for a baker’s boy. Volkov had a place in Geneva as well. You guys told me that at our first late-night ménage à trois, I remember.’
‘Correct. More important though is that he’s started to make waves in the political world. He’s entered as an independent in the presidential elections next year. You must have heard that.’
‘Maybe I did, although I’ve been a little busy of late, Tony, as you know. He won’t be able to crack the two-party system, will he? It would
need hundreds of millions of dollars to compete with them… ah, I see where you’re coming from now.’
‘That’s why it worries us. You know this country is polarised down the middle between Republican and Democrat. With populism now the norm here, people want an alternative to the red or blue, mule or elephant. Or at least that’s his theory,’ Shapiro said.
‘I wonder which animal he’ll appropriate for his campaign. A snake maybe?’
‘It would have to be one more warm or friendly. His new party is called RenewUS. It’s designed to appeal to voters from both sides, plus the section in the middle, he hopes. The media love him. The polls even suggest he could be a possible winner.’
‘You still haven’t explained why you think he can do what Wallace, Cleaver, Nader or Perot couldn’t?’
‘They all had weaknesses. Couldn’t sell a free hot dog to a hungry bum, let alone a new tomorrow to mister average in a swing state. This guy can. His manifesto is very smart. Pleases everyone. He’s been in touch with congressmen and senators from both parties with the idea of them moving to his at the next elections. He’s even taken senior retired people from our security services onto his team. He’s got some powerful new friends in business to help pay the bills as well. He’s now a serious player, I tell you. Both Republicans and Democrats are very worried. So am I.’
‘I get the picture. These elite politicians would kill their own offspring to stay in power. It’s why you don’t trust anyone in the intelligence agencies either. Okay. I get that. We’re now both in the same situation. So where do I come in?’
‘You’re here to interview him as a freelance. Before you state the obvious, yes, he knows your speciality is exposes, but I believe he’ll bite.’
‘Why?’
‘Just a theory. Hear me out. One: there’s a possibility he may not be full Chetwynd. He may be just a smart chancer. Two: even if he is run by the Organisation, you’ve said yourself that the mystery man in London, let’s call him Mr X, has allowed you to run free to find out what you knew. He could have had you taken out at any time, instead he watched you. We know now it was Chomsky that took out the private contract on you and look what happened to him. He was terminated by his own bodyguard under orders from the aforementioned when they found out he’d double-crossed them. Mr X wanted to know what you knew, and where you fitted into the picture.’
‘He calls himself Greenstreet.’ Jago repeated what Haber had told him after the Cyprus incident. ‘If this guy knows all about me and CUP, why would he approve of me talking to his latest protégé?’
‘I don’t know. That’s why I wanted you here. It’s a risk, I grant you. Until you make contact, your life is still worth jack shit, so what is there to lose?’
‘You put it so eloquently, Tony. Why didn’t I think of that?’
‘Okay. Okay, Jago. I’m sorry. I have to say it like it is. It’s as true as a senator’s promise. What do you say?’
‘I guess we have no choice. If Greenstreet knows all about the nefarious activities of CUP, I suppose there’s an outside chance he isn’t sure whether I work undercover for them, so maybe he thinks I’m just the husband of the chairman’s daughter. I suppose he might hold off topping me for a while until he does. The other question is still whether he knows I’ve worked for MI6.’
‘Again, I don’t know. Six is very protective of their operatives so maybe not. At the same time, there’s a lot of people in SIS you’ve had contact with. You believe he’s high up in the security service don’t you?’
‘Either there or in the government. He could be a senior military man, although they don’t have operational power within the service until they’ve retired, so I doubt it. I may be wrong, but for me he’s either SIS or government,’ Jago replied.
‘Okay. Look, you must be tired. Here’s some background on Kruger’s companies, the ones we know about anyway, plus Joe’s and my cell numbers. Call him first if you need help or information, me if you think it’s important. There’s also some contacts here for you in Wade’s office.’ He gave Jago a typed page. ‘I suggest you call Petra Carmichael. She’s his press secretary. She’ll make an impression on you, I promise. Ex-staffer for the Chicago Trib and NBC. She’s a sharp cookie so don’t underestimate her. If she won’t play ball or you can’t get to her, try his chief of staff, Barney Michaels. I’ll call you tomorrow at noon.’
They both finished their beers, then Shapiro took his leave. Jago opened another bottle while he stared out of the window to ponder further the position he was in. There wasn’t much of a view from the basement window, unless you could call a brick wall, a set of steps and a refuse bin a view.
Why do I do this? I have no family, no financial need, nor any need to risk my life with this work. Apart from a dog, very few friends as well. If I didn’t do it, the Service would have no problem replacing me with a younger version – or would they?
He started to count the number of bricks from the street to the basement. Odd or even? The OCD was back. He closed the curtain. With the lights switched on, the place looked bland. Good enough for someone who wanted to stay out of the limelight for a while, better than a hotel although with fewer comforts. What other types of CIA-protected species would have been hidden away here, he wondered.
Toye would know by now that he’d flown here because his passport would have been marked as ‘Notify Home Office’ on the border force screens at Heathrow. So what? He was on the search for La Polpo, as requested. How was up to him.
He decided any further deep analysis would be futile as he couldn’t stay awake any longer, so any new thoughts would only lead to more doubts. As well as that, he convinced himself that sleep might activate the natural computer in his brain to offer more ideas. He forced himself to have a long shower, then inspected the bedroom. The bed was as comfortable as it looked, so sleep arrived as soon as he offered his consciousness in return for a temporary period of oblivion on the oversized white pillow.
Chapter 16
For once Jago was glad of some rest. When awareness returned to him at four the next morning he knew further sleep would be impossible, so he pushed himself out of the bed with regret. Others could lie in their pits for seven or eight innocent hours yet that luxury had deserted him years ago.
The kitchen area smelt of floor cleaner which he countered by making a pot of coffee. He fired up the Vaio and plugged in the memory stick he’d brought with him, which contained scans of all the documents he’d found hidden at Sammy’s place. Somewhere in here, a pound to a pinch of salt, there would be the answers to a lot of his questions. Answers to questions on Chetwynd that he was sure by now Frankie had never found from the hundreds of bank accounts and companies they recorded, all of which were located in various tax havens. He decided he needed to speak to his accountant once more.
‘Nigel. Sorry to call you so late, my friend. Can you add a couple of names to your research? Wade Kruger with a k. Plus Petra Carmichael…Yes, that’s right, she works for him. Can you see if you can find any links between them, Hordiyenko, Real World Analysis and the Chomsky file you put together?’ He then gave the accountant the Kruger companies he wanted information on. ‘Thanks Nigel. Give me a call when you find any more. Don’t email it… Yes please. Okay. Goodnight.’
He stood to stretch his stiff limbs. Sleep deprivation coupled with jet lag compounded any residual ailments. It was still only 6 a.m. but he realised some exercise was called for. He knew a small gym two or three blocks away that he used to use all those years ago when he lived in the city, so he was pleased to see it still existed when he checked online. It was an old sweat-encrusted boxer’s hangout in those days, now it seemed to have moved more upmarket, offering all manner of expensive additional attractions to fitness enthusiasts of any sex. He was also glad to see it was open twenty-four seven. He rang them to book a visit, unpacked his trainers, T-shirt and the pair of shorts he’d brought with him, added a dry towel from the bathroom, pushed them all into a supermarket bag that he�
�d found in one of the drawers, then opened the basement door. The light from a new dawn had just started to bring fresh hope to him and people like him with big insecurities. Keep moving. That was the idea, if not the complete solution.
A short time later he decided the treadmill always provided far more benefits than just the production of sweat. It offered the chance to absorb the day’s events and compartmentalise them. This particular session was no different.
The assassin was a novel factor in the story which didn’t fit the previous pattern. The Organisation had a small well-trained army of ex-military personnel, yet the arrival of this woman to take over its wet jobs was strange. Why would they change the process now? Was she aimed at just SIS, or were there more targets to be added to her itinerary?
He was on his way out of the gym when the call came. It was Nik. He switched the cell to encrypt mode again, with the knowledge that Nik would have done the same without the need to ask.
‘Hi Jags. I’ve been told you’re thinking of a return to the fold. You can’t stay away from me can you?’
‘No. It’s as if destiny has decided we two should be together always, my sugar.’
‘Pack it in, Jago. I’m happily hetero.’
‘Are you worried someone is listening in to our conversation, my cherub?’
‘Sod off, you dick. Do you want my information or would you rather work in the dark on your new quest?’ Jago knew Nik was nearer the truth than he imagined. He was now wide awake, ready to be obstreperous once more.
‘Ah. My new quest. That’s very lyrical, Nik. I like that. Sir Galahad comes to mind. Okay, okay. For those others on the line, I don’t love you any longer. Shoot. What have you got?’
‘The Octopus. She made a mistake. When she disposed of the old couple she must have been in a hurry because we got some DNA.’
‘Brilliant. How come?’ Jago said.
‘It was on one of the old lady’s fingers. She must have tried to put up a fight and got close enough to scratch La Polpo’s face. She tried to wipe it the same way she’d done with Bryan’s room but she missed some under the old girl’s nail. Maybe somebody disturbed her.’
