Chapter Thirteen
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
Aleksandr Novikov lit a Kent cigarette outside Dubai International Airport.
Looking down at his two-toned Oyster Perpetual Submariner Date Rolex, he noted that he still had plenty of time to make his flight.
He didn’t anticipate any issues with security as he regularly traveled internationally on the fake passport that had a name printed on it that was not his own, yet matched his biometrics provided by the Russian government.
He had driven in a few days earlier from Qatar where, according to international travel records, he had been for the last two weeks.
In reality, he had crossed the gulf to Bahrain, entered the country undetected, and brutally murdered a U.N.
worker and hotel security guard before leaving in the same manner.
The person who had carried out those actions looked different than he did and carried different credentials.
The cover mechanisms were airtight, and he felt confident in the operation’s security.
He had destroyed that persona, never to be used again, and assumed one of his many aliases to once again travel freely throughout the region.
His only concern had been where to go next.
Novikov had gained access to Metry’s laptop by cracking the weak security encryption and discovered that the dead man had corresponded with two individuals regarding his findings.
The first was a U.N. scientist in Germany named Gilbert Richter, who had in turn been working with a colleague at a university in the United States.
Western Michigan University had been looked into, and it was determined that they conducted so much research that the documents they possessed would likely be catalogued and go unused by anyone.
Novikov might someday make his way to the United States to destroy those records, along with anyone who was perceived as a threat, but that was only if he was paid for it.
Richter in Germany was a different story.
He was absolutely a threat, as he worked directly for the United Nations.
He would need to die, and so that was where Novikov would go first. He would take a flight to Frankfurt and then make his way up to Bonn.
He knew where Richter worked and would utilize that as a starting point.
Once he positively identified the man, he would follow him to locate his home, as well as any other pattern-of-life information he was able to glean.
He would then select the best place to strike that would allow him the greatest chance of success with the least amount of risk to himself. It would be a straightforward job.
Metry’s daughter was the other loose end, and she was more of a conundrum.
She had been sent the data to review, though Novikov doubted she realized the significance of what she had.
Additionally, she was so concerned about her missing father that she had hopped a flight to Bahrain to search for him, information that was fed to Novikov by his handlers.
Although he didn’t know exactly where the information came from, he assumed from previous experience that there was a network of analysts out there churning through data, and more than likely others like him out there as well, all working for the same people.
Metry and Richter had inadvertently stumbled onto something much bigger than themselves.
Years ago Novikov would not have been privy to what was at stake.
But after years of serving his masters, he was entrusted with more information.
Something had been discovered out in the Arabian Desert, something that was of great value to his employers.
And the detection of the underground water sources put it all at risk.
Billions were on the line, which is why Novikov was being paid such a high price to kill anyone with significant knowledge of the hydrology report. First Metry, and now Richter.
However, the girl’s actions put Novikov in a tough situation.
She was certainly more vulnerable in Bahrain than in Denmark, but he was uncomfortable risking another operation in the country so soon.
And if the daughter disappeared in the same place days after the father, it would give cause for the authorities to open an investigation.
No, he thought, better to let her search. She wouldn’t find anything.
Instead, Novikov would arrange for some type of communication to be sent to the daughter. Perhaps a fake letter from her father, drawing her to a place where she would feel more comfortable, yet in reality be more vulnerable. He would look into it as soon as he was finished with the task at hand.
The killer looked down at his expensive watch again, a symbol of his rising status in life.
It was time to get moving. He took one last puff of the cigarette, watching the paper burn down to the filter, before tossing it in an ashtray.
Then he gathered up his bags and entered the airport.
Within the next few days Gilbert Richter would be dead, and Novikov would be one million dollars richer.