The Vanishing Angle

by Linda Ladd

  “Nobody recognized you or suspected you? Petrov didn’t recognize you?”

  “I disguised myself, but the servants there are used to service people coming in and out. The Senator travels so often that they have the gas and water lines disconnected at times. I bugged their landlines as well, but they rarely use them. Blackwood never stays anywhere for long. He goes from one property to the next. They leave only a skeleton crew behind, usually one maid, the cook, and a guard or two. The horse trainers and stable boys never see the inside of the big house. They work hard all day and sleep in the bunkhouse with the guards. The last thing Blackwood expects is somebody infiltrating his home, especially out here in the Virginia woods. He thinks he’s too powerful to be brought down. He is, I suspect, unless you know how to get incriminating tapes.”

  After that, Sokolov’s expression sobered, and he looked away from Novak’s regard. Novak assumed he meant proof of Irina’s abuse. He felt his stomach react to the idea. If that’s what was on the tapes, he didn’t want to see them. He couldn’t imagine what it would do to Sokolov, if he was in fact her real father. “What about Petrov? We bring him down first and Blackwood falls, too. Are you sure he didn’t recognize you or remember something about this place?”

  “We met many years ago. He helped to train me, but I was one of many recruits. I avoid the house if he is there, though I don’t believe he’d recognize me now. I’ve changed—he’s changed. He’s always around Blackwood and Irina because his primary job is to protect them, making sure Irina stays in line. He is kind to her at times. I don’t know if he still runs a network in New York, but he might, or it could be in Washington. That would be more likely. I think not, however, because he is no longer sanctioned by the Kremlin.”

  “But he’s into smuggling drugs?”

  He nodded. “It would be perfect, don’t you see? If they’re using all his beach properties to transport opioids, they can line the coast from north to south with safe houses in which to move the product. We engineered family units that fit in with their neighborhoods. Some may still be operating. I would suspect, though, that he’s using new people. Petrov had many contacts here and in Canada.”

  “Using them as drug mules?”

  “I’m sure they’re moving the drugs. No telling what else they’re smuggling. As you know, human trafficking is now a lucrative business.”

  “Let’s just get Irina out first. She has free rein to do whatever she likes most of the time, or she used to. She kept Justin hidden from them in a hotel just down the road from here. She had to have freedom to do it.”

  “She sneaks out at night mostly, usually through the pasture behind the house. I’ve seen her do it. Justin used to pick her up out on their entry road. They watch her, but not close enough. If Blackwood catches her, she pays a dear price when she gets home.”

  Sokolov got angry thinking about it. Novak didn’t ask what that bastard did to her because he didn’t want to know. Sokolov told him anyway, his words ground out through clamped teeth.

  “Blackwood is big on corporal punishment. He likes to put her over his knee.” He stopped there. “He does this to my daughter that he stole from me, my only child, and there is nothing I can do about it as long as she continues to stay with him.”

  “He’s a depraved bully. We’ll get her out of there, and he’ll pay for what he’s done.”

  “Molesting her and beating her is how that son of a bitch gets his fun. He tells her he loves her the entire time he’s beating her. That it’s all for her own good. When he gets really angry he slaps her or punches her with a closed fist.”

  The visuals that cropped up in Novak’s mind made his flesh crawl. He’d heard rumors that the senator was a sexual predator, but nobody had ever accused him publicly. He stared at the bedroom monitor. The hidden camera was focused on Irina’s big white canopy bed. “How can you stand to watch that?”

  “I can’t. It’s all taped, but if I ever sat down and watched him hurt her that way, I don’t know what I’d do. So I record, but stopped watching it after the first few times. I have learned to be patient. I am setting things up now. I will kill him when the time is at hand. I hope that is soon.”

  “I won’t stop you. We’ll get him, and we’ll get Petrov.” Novak looked at Sokolov. The Russian evaded his eyes. Novak’s distrust bloomed full-flower. “I find it less than believable that you can walk into that house and plant cameras all over the place without raising suspicion.”

  Sokolov lifted a shoulder in careless disregard. “It is not easy, but I can do it. That’s on tape, too, if you want to watch me work. I trust you now. You could have turned me in yesterday while you were gone from here. You knew where I was, and you knew my background. You did not do it. That is because you want to help me.”

  Novak didn’t answer. “How long were you a mole in this country?”

  “For several years. I moved around a lot and set up sleeper cells with people the Kremlin trained. Nobody ever suspected me of anything. Petrov did the same. My loyalty to the Motherland ended when I found out my government allowed Blackwood to take Irina out of the country as a toy for his own sick perversions. I was the one they jailed.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “I doubt we can bring Blackwood down, not right now. The tapes I made are the only thing I believe can do that. I will try someday. We can destroy his drug business, though, and when we do that, Petrov will go down with him.” He caught Novak’s gaze. “But I want them both dead. I want to do it myself. Petrov also has a price on his head now. If we’re lucky, Moscow will find him first. He is a traitor in every sense of the word. That’s why he hides out here in the forests of Virginia under the protection of a powerful politician. They’ll deal harshly with him when he’s found. That’s why we must get to Irina. Then I’ll take her and disappear forever.”

  “I hope it’s that easy.”

  “As long as I have these tapes, Blackwood will end up in prison. I made copies to send to media outlets in case of my death. I just need to get Irina first. You are my eyewitness to Petrov’s murder of Justin Dalton.”

  “Where is Blackwood now?”

  “They left the farm not too long after you did. Not to fear—I know where they’re going, because I attached a GPS tracker on his car. It is a habit of mine.”

  Novak nodded. He often did the same, carrying multiple GPS trackers in his backpack. Knowing the exact locations of your targets all the time was the name of the game.

  “Their first stop was at Nags Head in North Carolina,” Sokolov continued. “Then they drove on to Myrtle Beach. They’re still there, but they’re going to Fripp Island next, because I heard the cook telling the guard about their plans. By the time we catch up to them, that’s where they’ll be.”

  “That’s in South Carolina.”

  “You’ve been there?”

  “I’ve been to the Marine base at Parris Island outside Beaufort. I know Fripp isn’t too far from there. Do you have those places bugged as well?”

  “Not yet, but they are easy to surveil, especially on Fripp. I have a beach house there that I bought many years ago. In the other places we can rent condos and watch their movements from there.”

  “So you just sat here and watched them take Irina away?”

  “I’m not ready to rescue her yet. I need your help. Fripp Island is a wildlife refuge and residential island. His beach house sits right on the ocean among many others, including mine. In the past, Irina has had free rein while there, as long as she doesn’t try to leave. They shot her up with heroin before they left, so she’ll be out of commission for a time. We’ll be down there and set up to get her by then.”

  “You aren’t afraid he’ll kill her before we get there?”

  “He relented in his anger when she begged for forgiveness. If she thwarts him again or tries to find Justin, he’ll turn her over to Petrov. I’m sure of i
t. She’s never done anything like this before. He’ll only give her one more chance. We can get her out before that happens.”

  Novak hoped he was right about that, or that kid was going to end up dead.

  Chapter 12

  The drive down to Fripp Island took most of the night. The fastest route was south on I-95. Sokolov took the wheel of his Range Rover. He was a careful driver, never exceeding the speed limit, maybe because he didn’t have a U.S. driver’s license and was in the country illegally. They didn’t say much. Novak stared straight ahead, thinking about Lori Garner’s state of health. He finally gave in and punched in her number, just to soothe his mind. She picked up on the first ring, told him she was feeling better, that her headache wasn’t quite so awful now, and that she was enjoying getting to know the Summers, so he should stop freaking out and worrying about her. The last thing she said was to hurry up and expose Charles Blackwood for the disgusting bottom-dweller that he was, sooner rather than later. This conversation made her sound more like the amazing woman he knew so well. Afterward, he sat back and relaxed. That’s when his mind moved on to what he might be facing in the days to come.

  At the same time, he kept a cautious eye on the former Russian operative sitting next to him. He expected something bad to happen, something that Novak wasn’t going to like. He wondered how much and what parts of Sokolov’s story were true. Despite his serious misgivings about the man, he believed enough of his story to stay inside that SUV. When Lori texted him additional information on his new ally, most of it lined up with what Sokolov had already revealed to Novak. The guy had been wanted by the U.S. Government for espionage for over a decade. That news caused Novak to feel better, and worse.

  Novak stayed alert. None of this quagmire had a damn thing to do with him, other than his desire to bring down Petrov. Irina Blackwood’s lies had sucked Novak in nice and deep and brought him into a doubtful league with a Soviet spook. If he could help him put this whole operation down, he had to go along with it. He wanted to exact justice for Irina, too. Together, they had a good chance to accomplish that. That was the only good thing.

  Fripp Island turned out to be a six and a half square-mile barrier island in the low country of South Carolina. It had a population of less than a thousand people, but that number exploded as tourists swarmed in to enjoy its warm beaches. Located about twenty miles out of Beaufort, it was close to the Marine base on Parris Island where he’d spent time training. So he was familiar with the surrounding area and the climate, but knew very little about the nearby tourist hot spots.

  Stepan Sokolov grew talkative about the time they hit Beaufort’s city limits. He suddenly became a tour guide. He said that the island was not commercialized, but was fairly laid back and quiet. According to him, it was about a hundred miles south of Charleston and about half that distance north of Savannah. He told Novak how he’d used his beach house there as a holiday escape in the old days when he was undermining Americans. Novak wished he’d shut up. Everything he said galled Novak because he had chosen to work with a former enemy spy. It went against his grain and everything he believed in. On top of that, Novak was about to step foot inside a place that had probably once been a Russian safe house. For all he knew, Americans might have been held and questioned inside, or even killed for information. He felt himself stiffening up.

  The first sight he got of the island showed a seascape with waterfowl flying over wild marshes. A long bridge took them over to the island proper. As they drove over the water, a Great Blue Heron flew parallel to their vehicle, its long wings flapping lazily before it veered off. A small guard house was situated at the island end of the bridge. A security man stood inside behind a sliding glass window. He wore a tan uniform with Welcome to beautiful Fripp Island embroidered in script on the pocket flap. A sign instructed them to stop at the booth, so Sokolov rolled to a standstill and slid down his window. The guard greeted them with a big friendly smile and asked where they were going in his pleasant South Carolina drawl. Sokolov gave him a street address on Tarpon Boulevard and glibly lied about his name. The guard checked a clipboard, was satisfied, and waved them on. He told them to enjoy their stay and not end up sunburned. Sokolov laughed and told him he’d brought lots of sunscreen. He was such a convincing liar that Novak’s already wavering trust took a nosedive into a pool of suspicion.

  As they drove along, Novak decided the island lived up to its reputation as the perfect vacation spot. It seemed to cater especially to families with kids. All the golf carts they passed were jam-packed with youngsters, and they passed a lot of them on the road. “What’s with all these golf carts?”

  “Most of these rental houses provide them so tourists will be apt to park their cars and run around the streets in the carts. Thus no traffic to speak of, and the children love it.”

  This island would be a nice place to retire, Novak decided, or in Sokolov’s case, to hide inside a foreign spy nest. The neighborhoods looked neat and orderly, every street lined with gray or yellow or white Charleston-esque houses built up off the ground in case of coastal flooding. They looked nice and welcoming, usually two or three stories high with well-kept emerald lawns, lots of saw palmetto palms and waterways intersecting the island with private boat docks behind some of the residences. Most had wide front verandas and multiple cars parked in the driveways with license plates from all of the country. Novak suspected there were lots of family reunions going on.

  They came in on Tarpon Boulevard and stayed on it. Lots of people were out and about, biking or walking, most of them dressed in shorts and bathing suits. Since the island was also a wildlife preserve, tame deer loitered about everywhere, grazing in front yards, stopping traffic when they crossed the streets, and even meandering about on a golf course, where one errant ball could be a death knell. Ponds and waterways intersected the island all over the place, with warning signs indicating the deadly presence of alligators. He hoped all those moms and dads walking around kept a tight rein on their small children and pets. All in all, it looked like a pleasant little paradise surrounded by the sea, everything neat as a five-star hotel, with every indication of a safe and pleasant holiday destination. That is, except for the former Russian assassin and corrupt ex-senator running drugs in their Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

  Sokolov became chatty again. “There’s a nice golf course here. Sixteen holes, and the greens are fabulous, that is, unless you encounter an alligator sunning on the fairway. I used to play. Nice place to live full-time.”

  “Are you trying to sell me a time-share at your house, Sokolov?” Novak was watching for the senator’s car and memorizing the route to the beach house, just in case he had to get out in a hurry.

  Sokolov chuckled. “No, I am not interested in selling. I like it here too much. It’s a wildlife sanctuary, you know.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. How come you just happen to own a house close to Blackwood’s? That seems pretty coincidental to me.”

  “Not so much. We bought my place years ago only because it was close to him, and he was our target at the time. He was still a broadcaster back then, but he was influential and eventually was brought around to join us. When he became Senator, his value to us increased exponentially.”

  “No kidding.”

  Sokolov smiled, as if reminiscing about the good old spying days. He was really beginning to get on Novak’s nerves. He wondered if this guy had ever murdered an American citizen. He figured Petrov had done so, plenty of times. He had a feeling Sokolov might have also been designated a sanctioned killer at one time or another.

  “Just trying to break the ice, Novak. Earn your trust a bit. We’re stuck together for a time, whether you like it or not.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “That’s mutual, of course. We’ll never be friends. I do know you were a good soldier. Of course, you had to be if you were on a Navy SEAL team. Hating Blackwood and Petrov is all we have in common.”
/>
  “Yeah, there is that fun fact.”

  Sokolov shut up for a few minutes. Then he said, “If he wants Irina dead, he’ll probably do it while they’re here on the island. We can’t let that happen.”

  “Why here?”

  “Because I’ve talked to people who have surveilled him in the past. That old man has brought other young girls out here with him, girls even younger than Irina. Sometimes they simply disappeared while here, never to be seen again. Nobody reported them missing; nobody seemed to know they’d ever been alive and well. They would be observed in his car on arrival, but then vanish overnight. Our people searched for their bodies, believe me. They believed he dumped the bodies out in the ocean, but they could never prove anything, one way or the other.”

  Novak could believe that. He was ready to believe anything. “We’re going to get Irina out.” He glanced at Sokolov. “Seems a bad place to commit a murder. Why here? Way too many tourists running around everywhere.”

  “He managed it somehow. Both our houses are down at the end of the island, where it’s far less commercialized. No restaurants or businesses down there. Look around, Novak. See how happy and carefree everybody is. No one would suspect the Russians have landed.” He grinned, then sobered at the hard look Novak gave him.

  “Is this where you stay when you sneak into my country to kill people?”

  “I don’t make a habit of killing people, no more than you do. From time to time, I came here. I liked it, so I bought this house when we shut down most of the sleeper cells.”

  “You think they use this as a primary depot for passing the drugs?”

  “Probably, but it certainly won’t be the only one. He owns beach houses from New England to the Florida Keys. It’s odd for him to own so many in similar places while rarely renting any of them. That raised our suspicions, of course. He’s using them for something other than weekend trips, and I say they’re all part of a drug pipeline. We have to identify each and every one and shut them all down. It won’t be easy, as far apart as they are. That’s probably why they’re doing it this way.”