Chapter Sixteen
Bonn, Germany
The man was as transparent as glass, Novikov thought to himself, watching Gilbert Richter leave the entrance to the U.N.
campus and unlock his bicycle from the rack outside.
He was single, lived alone, had no pets, and worked too much, including weekends.
Perhaps they were all interconnected facets of his life, one leading to the other.
He was also strangely overweight for a man who rode his bicycle back and forth to work every day.
Perhaps this was a new development in his routine.
Richter rented a town house off Burbacher Strasse, not a cheap commodity in Bonn.
Novikov absently wondered if the man used his position to skim money off the top, enriching himself through a little creative corruption.
That’s what he would do, and it was how many people in Russia did business.
It wasn’t a trick he had learned until later in life, but he had learned it well.
Most of Novikov’s life had been spent in service to the Motherland.
At sixteen he joined the army and had served for a few years before realizing he had a knack for military work, but that he was capable of much more.
His superiors had recognized it as well, which is why he was transferred to the Main Intelligence Directorate, or GRU, and eventually joined Spetsnaz, Russia’s elite special forces.
They conducted all special operations for the GRU, including counterterrorism operations, and Novikov learned that he not only excelled at the work, but that he enjoyed it.
The GRU taught him spycraft, but Spetsnaz taught him to be lethal.
Finally, he worked his way up to one of the most elite Russian units there was, the Spetsgruppa Directorate V, or Vympel, under the Federal Security Service, or FSB.
Not only did they receive the toughest missions that required a covert touch, but they often did so on behalf of the corrupt oligarchy that comprised Russia’s ruling class.
It involved work of questionable legality, certainly illegal by international law, and also saw its members become enriched through kickbacks, which worked to ensure a type of loyalty.
There were no real lines between the state and industry in Russia.
Political leaders had learned to exploit that, and now so had he.
When Novikov retired from the military he had been taken on in a private capacity by his current employer, putting the same skills to work he had learned over the previous twenty years.
He lied, cheated, stole, and killed. The difference was that now he was handsomely rewarded for his efforts.
The truth was that he would have done it for free.
He wasn’t a psychopath, he simply enjoyed the work.
He liked having an objective and completing it to the best of his ability.
His employer’s goals meant very little to him.
He had no deep passion for protecting their investments in the Empty Quarter of Saudi Arabia.
However, the money was an excellent incentive and one that had been an added bonus to keep him in the game.
He was paid extra for higher-risk jobs, such as murdering a member of an international organization in a foreign country, much like he was preparing to do now.
Novikov had previously followed the man in a vehicle to learn the location of his home.
The next day he followed him on foot, just long enough to observe his route.
He then returned to the man’s house and broke in by picking the lock to the back door.
There were no roommates, no dogs, and no alarms. Richter kept a very neat house and Novikov could imagine the man returning home, opening one of the many German lagers in the fridge, and sitting down on the left side of the well-worn sofa to watch television.
What was less certain was the location of the report Metry had sent him.
Novikov didn’t see a laptop come home with the man, which meant he likely left it at work.
That, in turn, meant the file would likely also be stored there and that he would now have to enter the man’s office.
He decided that he would do it on the same night.
When Richter came home tomorrow he would question him, kill him, and search the place again.
If he came up empty-handed, the resourceful Russian would go to the office and look there.
It was a snag to be sure, but one that could be overcome.
All problems could be overcome with a little effort, and a little ingenuity.
The next day Novikov executed as planned.
He returned to Richter’s home two hours before he was due to get off work and waited.
When Richter approached, he concealed himself behind the door, knowing a man such as he would not cautiously search his surroundings upon entry.
As anticipated, Richter entered his home, closed the door, and turned in the opposite direction to place his keys on the table by the entrance.
As he did, Novikov smacked him in the temple with a rock he had plucked from the man’s own backyard.
Richter immediately fell to the floor, dazed.
Novikov hovered over the injured man, staring intently into his eyes.
“You received a file from Youssef Metry regarding hydrological surveys in Saudi Arabia,” he said to the man in German. It was a statement, not a question.
Richter blinked several times, his eyes seeming to have trouble focusing. Novikov lifted the rock as if to strike again, and the man cowered.
“Ja, ja!” the man yelled, feebly shielding his face with his forearms.
“Where is the file?” Novikov asked, keeping the rock poised for a strike.
“Mein Büro.” My office.
“On your computer?” Novikov asked, and Richter nodded. “Tell me the password.”
Richter gave it to him. “Danke,” Novikov said with a slight nod, and then proceeded to bash Richter several more times in the head until his skull caved in.
Brain matter and only a little blood leaked out of the gaping wound onto the floor, his head resembling a watermelon that had been hit with a hammer.
With the exception of a few whimpers, the German gave little resistance.
Novikov casually dropped the rock next to the body and set about ransacking the place.
Methodically, he tore apart the entire domicile, finding nothing.
He made sure to snag a few trinkets here and there and broke a back window before leaving, his intention to give the impression of a home invasion and subsequent robbery.
Whether local law enforcement or the United Nations bought it was really of no consequence.
At a minimum there would be enough evidence to confuse an investigation, which was good enough for his purposes.
Lastly, he removed Richter’s badge, which hung from a lanyard around his neck. It would come in handy.
After waiting until it was later in the evening, the assassin left the house, moving along a carefully chosen route to ensure he wasn’t seen on camera.
On his way he changed his disguise and headed for the office building.
He had previously scoped out the U.N. campus and knew there would be people working this time of night.
While there were checkpoints to enter the compound from the street, security was fairly lax coming from the park near the river embankment.
It was a simple matter of hopping an unguarded fence with no security camera coverage to gain access to the area and the main building.
He walked right in, checked the registry for Richter’s office, and used Richter’s badge to unlock the stairwell.
Nobody questioned him, as he wore a suit and walked with a purpose, and he made his way up to Richter’s floor and to his office unmolested.
It was locked, but the badge once again unlocked the door by way of an RFID scanner on the wall.
Once inside he booted up Richter’s computer.
He was surprised that it was a tower and monitor and not a laptop, and even more surprised to find that the man had provided him with the correct password.
He had brought along hacking software as a backup but was pleased that it wasn’t required.
As the computer logged in, he did a cursory search of the office, unlocking the file cabinet with his set of lockpicks.
Finding nothing of interest, he returned to the computer.
Novikov scrolled through desktop folders and found the file he was looking for.
He opened it, confirmed the hydrology study for Saudi Arabia, and deleted it.
Next, he checked the print logs and noted that a hard copy had not been made, which was a good sign.
Lastly, he moved to Richter’s email and began scrolling through.
Novikov noted, and deleted, the correspondence between Richter and Youssef Metry.
Next, he composed a draft email. He had memorized the email address for Metry’s daughter, Anastasia, and typed it into the recipient line.
Then he typed out an email explaining that her father had contacted him and asked if he would get in touch with her.
He kept it vague, but made it seem as if her father might be in some type of trouble.
Novikov paused briefly to recall his timeline, and then typed out that Richter could meet the woman in Egypt next week, as he would be traveling there for business.
He knew the Metrys were from Cairo and figured that she would be more willing to go there.
She would also be an easier target in a country like Egypt.
Feeling that the content of the email from Richter looked legitimate, he scheduled it to go out first thing in the morning, so as not to appear suspicious at having been sent in the middle of the night.
That task accomplished, he continued to scroll through the received messages.
One caught his eye with an on-the-nose subject line reading “Hydrology in the Empty Quarter.” He opened it and read it.
“Zhizn’ ebet meya,” he swore to himself under his breath.
Richter had corresponded with a graduate student named Nathan Wilde who had inquired about the report.
Richter confirmed his ability to help, and they were set to meet tomorrow morning.
Novikov thought through his options. If this student attempted to track down Richter it would likely lead to the discovery of his body.
While that was inevitable, Wilde might then try to locate the source of Richter’s report.
As it stood, the university in Michigan was out of the loop.
They had supplied the study to a client for a specific purpose, and there was no danger of them using it anytime soon.
But if this Wilde individual tracked the study to Michigan, he could retrieve it and the problem would start anew.
The original plan had been for Novikov to take the laptop, but now that he knew it was a desktop he would have to settle for deleting all the content related to the report.
There was no way he could exit the building carrying the computer tower without being stopped and questioned by security.
Besides, leaving the office undisturbed would hopefully convince Wilde that nothing was amiss and something else had simply come up in Richter’s schedule.
If Wilde left, then there would be no problem.
He wasn’t entirely sure why the man would want the report, but it certainly meant that he was interested in the underground water sources of the Rub’ al Khali, which posed a significant risk to the investment of his employers.
If he persisted in trying to find Richter, then Novikov would follow the student to wherever he was staying and deal with him.
Once Wilde was dead, he would head to Cairo and kill Anastasia Metry, and then all loose ends would be tied up once and for all.