Chapter 16
“If you get one of my agents into shit with the director, I will personally end you.”
Jordan caught the worried look Cisco sent them both and refrained from violently shoving Regan aside.
“I have no intention of implicating her in anything.”
“Yeah,” Regan let him go with a playful shove, “but you’re not the one digging into it, are you?”
They both glanced at Alex Parker who was working with one of his analysts, picking through the dubious offerings of the Dark Web.
No point arguing Cisco hadn’t disabled the feeds during Tremblay’s murder. Accessing security feeds without a warrant, especially in a foreign country, could be grounds for dismissal or even criminal charges.
“Dammit, Regan.” Jordan dragged his hand through his hair and kept his voice low enough that the director’s snoop couldn’t overhear. “If I’d had any idea what was going to happen, I’d never have asked her to help me access those feeds.”
“Yeah,” Regan stared at the floor, hands on hips. “But if you hadn’t been there maybe we’d be having to help Kurt figure out how to conduct a Mexican jailbreak, so I guess there’s that. I’ll talk to Parker, but if you want something in the future, you come to me. Understood?”
Jordan inhaled and nodded gratefully. He didn’t care what happened to him. But he hated the idea Cisco would be punished or lose her job for doing what was supposed to be a harmless favor.
A woman with short blonde hair knocked on the door. Jordan recognized the crisis negotiator behind her as he’d worked with the guy many times. Max Hawthorne.
“Lucy Aston.” Jon Regan whistled. “I thought you retired.”
She gave him a dazzling smile as she came inside and received a warm hug from the usually acerbic man.
“I definitely retired from that which-shall-not-be-named, but I’m taking a little time figuring things out before I start my next job.
” She smiled up at Hawthorne, and Jordan realized there was more than professional appreciation in that exchange.
“Patrick Killion contacted me about consulting on a case. Said there was some possible Russian involvement?”
Steve McKenzie and Alex Parker both stood and introduced themselves.
Jordan nodded to Max. “You being assigned to this task force too?”
Max pulled a face. “I’m just showing Lucy where you’re at.”
“Pity.”
“You think you’ll need a negotiator?” Max sounded hopeful.
Jordan looked at Daisy, enthusiastically shaking Lucy’s hand. “Only in my personal life. Lucy’s a Russian expert?”
Max’s expression grew somber. “Unfortunately.”
“She any good?”
“The best.”
That was reassuring to hear. Hawthorne clapped him on the back and took his leave as Lucy grabbed a seat.
“So, Konrad Bocharov was before my time,” Lucy began, “but I read up on the case when I was doing my training, and I’m familiar with the work you guys did.
” She looked first at Tobias Granger and then at him.
Jordan flinched away from the pity in her pretty hazel eyes.
“And the revenge he took on your family. I’m afraid you’ve become a cautionary tale at the Agency. ”
He hardened himself against the resentment. He was a cautionary tale. “Have there been any rumors at the Agency of Bocharov still being alive?”
“Not that I am aware of.” She steepled her fingers in front of her.
“The thing is, I was thinking—Russia has suffered quite a few defeats in the past couple of years. The Russian Ambassador being shot to death in DC along with his personal assistant.” She swallowed tightly.
“They lost a couple of their long-term assets during that fiasco too.”
Regan shook his head. “Scarlett Stone sure kicked the hornets’ nest with that party trick.”
“Do you blame her?” Parker asked.
Regan scratched the side of his neck. “Not even a little bit. But I sure as hell wish we hadn’t fallen for their bullshit in the first place.”
“No argument from me,” Parker agreed.
Lucy continued. “Then Vladimir Ranich was picked up on terrorism charges last summer along with a whole host of other arms dealers who tried to buy weaponized anthrax in the French Riviera.”
Regan swore. “It’s like playing goddamned whack-a-mole.”
Parker took a drink from a bottle of water in front of him. “You think Bocharov is responding to a gap in the market?” The idea seemed to bother him.
Lucy’s lips formed a canted line. “I don’t think that type of person ever stops looking for opportunities.
” She glanced around their group. “I wonder—and this is pure speculation—but I wonder if Bocharov may have been part of Ranich’s operation and, with his boss’s imprisonment, is now able to exert his influence more. Climb the ladder, so to speak.”
Granger spoke. “He probably had some groveling to do when he crawled back to Moscow with his tail between his legs. Probably one of the reasons he was so violent when he discovered he’d been compromised.”
Jordan crossed his arms and tried not to react to the word “violent” in relation to his beloved family. “You don’t think Bocharov perhaps planned to escape his Russian masters as well as us?”
“I guess that depends on whether or not the man you saw is truly Bocharov. If it is, then no, because throwing a nuclear scientist out of a window is a sure-fire way to catch the attention of his former masters back in the Kremlin, and I don’t think he’d risk it.”
“It’s definitely Bocharov.”
“We’re still waiting on the Mexican authorities to analyze blood samples found in Tremblay’s room to confirm,” McKenzie interrupted.
“It’s him,” Jordan insisted. And from Lucy’s deduction, that meant Moscow was still running the bastard.
Lucy wore a sparkly diamond on her ring finger which she kept glancing at. He hadn’t realized Max was serious about anyone. Romance seemed to be contagious as half the confirmed bachelors he knew seemed to be getting hitched lately.
He glanced at Daisy who was glued to Lucy’s every word.
Looked away, unsettled.
“We also had that situation up in Maine where the FBI killed one of their scientists and detained an old KGB operative who the CIA secreted away somewhere unknown. That would have been a major blow to their egos.” Lucy looked at Daisy when she spoke.
Most of the others were already briefed on these older cases.
She cleared her throat. “And, over Christmas, I was part of a group that broke up a sophisticated Russian spy ring in Argentina, and we arrested one of the Kremlin’s pet oligarchs, Boris Yahontov. ”
Jordan’s eyes widened. He’d heard about that. Operation Soapbox. Hard not to, even on a road trip across sub-Saharan Africa.
“Yahontov was found dead in his cell two days ago, a supposed suicide—the day before he was due to be extradited to the US on money laundering charges.” Lucy’s face was expressionless, but everyone was thinking the same thing.
Assassinated before he could talk.
Shit.
“They ever catch Anatoly Agapov?” asked Parker.
“A Russian spymaster who thought he’d turned me into a double agent, who disappeared with a bunch of cash in December,” Lucy explained.
“No, they never caught him, but I have no doubt he’d have headed back to the Motherland with his tail between his legs, begging for forgiveness with some wild plan to extract revenge. ”
That didn’t sound good.
Jordan leaned back in his chair. “The Russians are pissed. What’s new?”
A flutter of uncertainty crossed her features.
“Well, this isn’t based on any rigorous analysis.
It’s based on my interactions with them over the years and how they think.
The US has dealt them a series of devastating blows over the past eighteen months, and they haven’t reciprocated.
Worse, the last blow was dealt to them by a woman they thought they owned. They’d hate that more than anything.”
She was right.
From his personal experience and deep Ukrainian roots, he knew exactly where she was going with this. “They’re looking for a win.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, yes. A big win.
” Lucy met his gaze. “When Killion asked me to be part of this task force, initially I said no. I’m out of the game and probably heading to the State Department for a cushy translator job.
However, when he mentioned the nuclear aspect, I couldn’t refuse.
They might crave revenge, but they’ll want plausible deniability to stop the US from retaliating by dropping a bomb on the Kremlin. ”
Jordan stared hard at the blonde woman. “They’ll muddy the waters.”
“Always.” She pointed at Jordan. “So, first we need to identify the man you saw in Mexico. Then we need to figure out if he killed Francois Tremblay—who had no known connections to Russians or arms dealers in general. Then figure out why. At the same time, we need to discern what the potential threats might be and see if we can get eyes and ears on their operation. Homeland, NSA, and CIA should all be updated and asked to weigh in with any pertinent information, as should Counterintelligence in WFO.”
“You want to lead this task force?” Mac joked. “Because you’re doing a hell of a job.”
She went bright red. “No, sorry I—”
“I’m kidding, except for the part where you’re doing a great job.
Appreciate you coming out of retirement as my experience has largely focused on domestic terrorism.
I’d appreciate you working with Detective Granger on vetting the other attendees and people seen at the hotel.
Agent Crabtree—track down the contact details of all the Russian specialists in all the departments Lucy named. Okay, people, let’s get to work.”
Jordan watched the group scatter to their assigned tasks, a well-oiled machine gearing up to hunt a ghost. His ghost. His personal nightmare.
Lucy might be brilliant at what she did, but she was wrong about one thing. The Russians didn’t just want a win.
They wanted blood.
And Bocharov had already proven whose blood he preferred to spill.
Jordan’s gaze drifted to Daisy.
How was he going to keep her safe from this new and terrible threat? He’d promised Kurt he’d protect her, but instead he’d painted a giant bullseye on her back. And Bocharov wouldn’t stop until she was dead.