‘Whereabouts in London?’
Feldman resisted the temptation to sigh. Instead he maintained a cool, even demeanour.
‘Farnborough.’
The policeman looked puzzled.
‘It’s an airport about 40 miles south-west of London.’
‘Why have you been visiting Moscow?’ the policeman demanded, looking first at Rabinovich, then at her passport photograph, and again at Rabinovich.
‘We’ve been visiting Moscow on business. We’re scheduled to depart by private jet from the VIP terminal at 0300 hours,’ said Feldman, with an emphasis on the ‘VIP’.
‘What is the flying time to Farnborough?’ The first checkpoint guard had been joined by a second, more senior and more aggressive policeman who seized both passports and conducted yet another comparison of faces with photographs.
‘A little over five hours – my aircraft is a Gulfstream G550.’
‘So what proof do you have that you’re here on business?’ demanded the second policeman.
‘Look, gentlemen,’ said Feldman, switching to fluent Russian, albeit maintaining his British accent. ‘I know you have a job to do, but so do I. Here is my letter of invitation from President Petrov,’ Feldman added, handing over a letter with the official Kremlin letterhead. An impeccably forged signature of President Petrov was at the bottom. ‘It’s very early in the morning, but I’m quite prepared to call him.’
The junior of the two policemen went pale.
‘That won’t be necessary, Mr Feldman,’ said the senior policeman, handing back the letter and passports with a hint of a smile. ‘Enjoy your trip,’ he added, signalling for the boom gate to be raised.
‘I’m impressed, Leonid. For an Israeli, you speak fluent British-Russian.’
‘The Mossad prides itself on being able to operate very effectively in any country around the world,’ Feldman replied, easing the Jaguar into a car space in the VIP area.
‘What if he’d asked you to call the president?’
‘A calculated risk. Lowly paid policemen are not going to insist on someone calling the president at any hour of the day, let alone at two-thirty in the morning.’
‘And the Jaguar? I’m curious.’
‘You can be too curious in this game, Cohen . . . and you’d better get used to responding to that name. As to the Jaguar, that will be looked after.’
Rabinovich nodded, mentally filing it away for her first report.
Customs and immigration were taken care of with a cursory swiftness in the VIP lounge and Feldman led the way out to where the Gulfstream G550 was waiting on its stand. The markings of the Israeli Air Force had been removed and replaced with a private UK registration. The two Israeli Air Force pilots, dressed in British civilian aviation attire, were strapped into their seats.
‘Welcome aboard, Mr Pemberton, Ms Featherstone-Walkley.’ Like Rabinovich, the Mossad ‘stewardess’ was deadly with a range of weapons including the famed Uzi submachine gun but today, like the pilots, Aleah Mizrahi was dressed in appropriate civilian attire. She ushered her charges toward two big cream leather seats, one either side of the aisle.
‘Can I get you a drink before we leave?’ she asked, once she’d given the ground crew a wave and secured the door.
‘Yes,’ said Feldman, flashing Mizrahi a warm smile. ‘Tattinger champagne, I think, but not until we’re airborne and out of Russian-controlled airspace.’
‘Of course, and for you, Ms Featherstone-Walkley?’ The role-playing was carried out down to the last detail.
‘A mineral water will be fine, thank you.’ Rabinovich had every intention of keeping her razor-sharp wits, but the two appeared to know one another, she thought.
‘Your briefing summaries on key world events.’ Mizrahi handed Feldman an unmarked folder. ‘President Travers has been ramping up the prospect of new smaller, more powerful nuclear weapons,’ she added.
‘President Travers is a menace,’ Feldman grumbled and he opened his folder containing the daily Mossad intelligence briefings that were sent to embassies around the world.
Mizrahi disappeared toward the cockpit. Moments later the engines spooled up and the aircraft began to move.
‘Flaps 20 degrees.’ Major Uri Eisenberg was one of the IDF’s most experienced fighter pilots with over 7000 hours on F-15 Falcons and he had spent the last year flying Gulfstreams for the Mossad.
‘Flaps 20 degrees,’ replied Eisenberg’s younger co-pilot, Captain Ariel Dreyer. With clearance from the control tower, Major Eisenberg glanced at the liquid crystal displays in front of him, released the brakes and advanced the throttles. The powerful twin Rolls-Royce BR710 turbofans each generated more than 30 000 pounds of thrust and the Gulfstream quickly accelerated past 100 knots.
The Gulfstream powered down the runway and Rabinovich was pushed back into her plush leather seat.
‘V1,’ Dreyer intoned. They were now committed to take-off, even if one of the engines failed.
‘Rotate . . . V2’. Eisenberg held the Gulfstream’s nose at 25 degrees. ‘Gear up.’
When they reached their cruising altitude of 40 000 feet, Major Eisenberg handed over to Captain Dreyer and set about changing the flight plan from Farnborough in the United Kingdom to Ben Gurion International Airport, just outside of Tel Aviv.
Amos Regev and his deputy, David Koren, sat in the Mossad director’s office, riveted to the television coverage coming out of Moscow.
BBC News anchor Amanda Forman, sitting at her glass news desk and flanked by banks of television screens, broke into the BBC’s World News coverage of the fighting in Syria. ‘And in news just to hand, Moscow is in lockdown tonight after one of Russia’s most prominent nuclear scientists, Doctor Ilana Rabinovich, gave a controversial speech at Moscow University. Rabinovich was critical of the Russian government and President Petrov’s policies and she is believed to have been involved in a subsequent high-speed car chase through the city. We cross now to the BBC’s Emma Johnson on the streets of Moscow. Emma, what’s the latest from where you are?’
‘Thanks, Amanda. I’m standing near the Prospekt Vernadskovo Bridge, one of several which cross the Moskva River linking the Moscow CBD with the districts to the south. As you can see in the background, police, fire and ambulance are still at the scene of an earlier horrific explosion on a tourist barge. A black FSB Mercedes-Benz was involved in an accident with another vehicle, a high-powered Audi sports car believed to have been driven by one of Russia’s top nuclear scientists, Doctor Ilana Rabinovich.’ The vision cut to a chaotic scene of flashing red and blue lights and the fire still burning on the barge that had been towed to the bank. Firefighters were directing water onto the bow area and amid the chaos, ambulance men and women were carrying the dead and injured on stretchers, the deceased covered with blankets.
‘Do we know what led to this, Emma?’
Emma nodded for the cameras as she waited for the few seconds of time delay to hear the full question. ‘The actual details are still sketchy, but Doctor Rabinovich gave a speech tonight at the prestigious Moscow University just a few blocks from here. Rabinovich was highly critical of the Russian government, and by implication, President Petrov and his regime. In her speech, she referred to the Russian Nobel Laureate Andrei Sakharov. In the 1970s, Sakharov was similarly critical of the Soviet leadership and the government of Leonard Brezhnev and he was exiled. Rabinovich cited similar concerns over a lack of respect for human rights, the environment and a burgeoning nuclear arms race . . .’
‘Emma, we’re going to have to interrupt you there. We’ve just been told that President Petrov is about to appear live from his office in the Kremlin.’
The feed switched to President Petrov sitting at his desk in the Old Senate building, flanked by the Russian tricolour to his right, and the presidential tricolour with the double eagle to his left.
‘Dear friends, my fellow Russians. As many of you are aware, we have tonight been subjected to an inexplicable act of terrorism by one of our
scientists, someone the state has nurtured and educated. Firstly, on your behalf, I want to extend my deepest sympathies to those who have lost loved ones tonight. I can assure you, they will never be forgotten, and a memorial will be erected beside the bridge. I have also ordered that all flags on public buildings are to be flown at half-mast tomorrow, as a sign of our respect.’ The president paused, in a moment of silence.
‘As for Colonel Rabinovich, when members of the FSB attempted to question her this evening, in a moderate and respectful way, she turned on them and assaulted them. She was armed, which is evidence enough of her evil intentions.’ President Petrov paused again for emphasis, looking directly into the camera. He had already thought through the implications of his speech and how it might play out on Rabinovich’s successful return from her espionage mission against the Israelis, but he was confident that by then the public would have moved on and the details of the night could be changed – ‘in the light of recent testimony by a witness . . .’ Petrov would announce the findings of the investigation, with the major fault being levelled at the FSB. Far from moderate and respectful, it would be clear that the misguided and heavy-handed actions of the FSB had led to the tragedy as Rabinovich fled the scene. Allegations of Rabinovich being armed would be found to be false and she would be welcomed back into the fold, but that was for a future address. ‘I am not going to say too much more tonight,’ President Petrov continued, ‘until we have completed a thorough, open and transparent investigation. In the meantime, every effort is being made to apprehend Colonel Rabinovich, who is now a fugitive from justice. Again, our sincere sympathies are with the families from Russia and overseas who have been caught up in these tragic events, and I have instructed our embassies in the relevant countries to provide every assistance.’ The vision of the president faded and Amanda Forman took over.
‘We return now to our Russian correspondent, Emma Johnson in Moscow. Emma, do we know how many foreigners have been, to use President Petrov’s words, caught up in these events?’
Johnson shook her head as the question came through. ‘Not as yet, but the initial indications are that fatalities number at least ten, and that will probably rise because some of the injured are in a critical condition. There are unconfirmed reports that in addition to local residents, there were Americans, Australians and British tourists booked on the river cruise but we have no word as to whether or not the international tourists were amongst the fatalities.’
‘And Emma, the president indicated that Rabinovich is on the run and we understand there are rumours she may seek asylum in Israel?’
‘The Israeli embassy here is refusing to confirm or deny any application for sanctuary, Amanda, but toward the end of her speech tonight, Rabinovich did indicate that her mother was Jewish and she accused the Petrov regime of anti-Semitism, citing increased Jewish migration to Israel because of the policies of the Petrov government.’
‘Emma, thank you. That was Emma Johnson reporting from Moscow. Now to other news . . .’
Regev flicked the remote. ‘What do you think?’ he asked David Koren, his deputy.
Before Koren could reply, there was a soft knock on the door.
‘Come.’
Michael Lapid, the Mossad’s chief recruiter, appeared and closed the door behind him. ‘Have you seen the BBC feed?’ he asked.
Regev nodded. ‘Yes . . . have a seat, we’ve just started to evaluate it.’
‘Well, before you do, you might want to see this,’ said Lapid, handing Regev a cable from the Israeli embassy in Moscow. ‘They’ve pretty well verified what you saw on the BBC. The whole of the area around the Prospekt Vernadskovo Bridge has been cordoned off and the embassy is reporting that there are now hundreds of police out scouring the streets and the underground and presumably the airports.’
Regev handed the cable to his deputy and waited until he’d read it. ‘What do you think?’
‘You can never be certain about these things, Amos, but if she’s not genuine, the Russians have gone to an awful lot of trouble, and risky trouble at that.’
‘Not to mention that for this to be a sting, it could only be approved by the president himself,’ said Lapid. ‘We’ve been stung before, and it still bears checking out when she gets here, and I think testing her loyalty in the United States is a good way to go, but it looks pretty genuine to me.’
‘I agree,’ said Regev. ‘I’ve been in this game a long time, and she’s no bumbling Jonathan Pollard. We should have kept him at arm’s length,’ he added ruefully. ‘She’s still in the air at present, but when she gets here, interview her, Michael, and if you think she’s the genuine article, we’ll test her in the United States.’
‘Welcome back,’ Barbara whispered to O’Connor while McNamara took one of a number of increasingly erratic calls from the Oval Office. Her voice was tinged with both warmth and relief. She, more so than most, had some idea of what O’Connor and his men had gone through. They could both hear the president shouting down the phone from across McNamara’s desk.
‘I’ve just been briefed on this report from this O’Connor guy. Why didn’t they chase ISIS into Pakistan? I want results – not some half-finished, half-baked failure!’
McNamara rolled his eyes and switched the encrypted conversation to speaker. He had a high opinion of both O’Connor and Murray and he took every opportunity to mentor those he thought might one day occupy a similar office to his. Dealing with a difficult president came with the territory, although McNamara doubted either would ever encounter anyone as irascible or narcissistic as Bedford Travers. Privately, McNamara thought the new president was bordering on unhinged. ‘Mr President, I understand you want results. We’re with you one hundred per cent on that . . .’
‘That’s the problem! You bureaucratic wankers over there in your ivory tower don’t understand! I don’t want results on what ISIS is doing next week or next month! This is Bedford Travers they’re dealing with, and I want to know what ISIS is doing right now, right this minute, and if you jackasses over there can’t deliver, I’ll find someone who can!’
‘That will give you a sense of what we’re dealing with down at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue,’ said McNamara, replacing the secure handset as the line went dead. ‘Not too many adults in the White House at present, and when they’re not fighting each other they’re fixated on ISIS, although not without reason. Do we have any more on the likely targets for the dirty bomb?’ McNamara asked, looking at Murray.
Barbara Murray shook her head. ‘We’re scouring the ether and the Dark Web, and with the new computers in Utah, we pull in more than 200 million texts and emails a day, but so far nothing has surfaced. We can be reasonably sure they will be aiming to hit us, and our allies – particularly Australia, the UK and France – although with our success around Nangalam,’ Murray added, shooting an admiring glance at O’Connor, ‘they may be reduced to two targets instead of four.’
‘Yes,’ McNamara agreed, ‘but at the moment the only thing we can do is get Homeland Security to raise the threat level.’
‘And if we do that,’ said O’Connor, ‘the media will be demanding to know why, and we haven’t got anything definitive.’
‘And the less the public know about our black operations in Afghanistan, the better. I don’t want to have to waste time fending off questions from the Afghani ambassador. I’ll confer with Admiral Chandler later this morning, but it seems he’s already got this under the microscope.’
McNamara reached for another crimson file on his desk. ‘As much as ISIS is the flavour of the month in the White House,’ he said, ‘let’s leave that for a moment and focus on this Rabinovich defection. You’ve both seen the reports from our embassy, along with the media coverage, but I’ve got a sixth sense that something is not quite right. Anything else from your side?’ asked McNamara, again turning to Murray.
‘To be honest, Tom, I’m not sure. But I agree with you, there are a couple of things that are not adding up. Firstly, the Russians don�
��t normally allow the sort of media coverage we’ve seen on this, particularly if an incident has the potential to embarrass the state. On the embarrassment scale, to have one of if not your very best nuclear physicists jump ship has to be a nine or a ten. Despite the Kremlin’s protestations to the contrary, this is not a country that enjoys much freedom of the press. I don’t know whether you’ve seen it, but Freedom House issued an annual report on the Russian media, and they’ve graded it “not free” with a score of 83 where zero is best and a hundred is worst, yet this incident has received wide coverage. The international press has not experienced any of the usual restrictions, and the president himself has given a media conference on what is essentially bad news.’
McNamara grunted in agreement. ‘Yeah, politicians usually hog the good news stories and palm the shit sandwiches off to their underlings.’
‘And secondly,’ Murray continued, ‘and I’m trying to get confirmation on this, but I’ve had a report that the FSB might have been in the auditorium when Rabinovich delivered her lecture. That to me smacks of early warning and if the Kremlin has warning that someone is going to be publicly critical, especially of the president, they don’t normally sit on their ass and just let it happen.’
‘O’Connor?’
‘I agree with Barbara. If you so much as post a critical view online, you’re likely at the very least to get a visit from the FSB. And I seem to recall more than one online blogger has finished up in a penal colony for daring to question the Kremlin’s adventures in Ukraine.’
‘Have you got anything on Rabinovich, Barbara?’ asked McNamara. ‘Other than having international acknowledgement as a world-class physicist, and being an active member of Spetsnaz – which is an odd combination – her file here is pretty thin.’
O’Connor was about to add ‘easy on the eye’, but he thought better of it. President Travers had not improved McNamara’s day.
The Russian Affair Page 15
