CHAPTER 51
Stephanie had tried to rest, but sleep had proven elusive.
Instead she’d lain in bed and considered all the possibilities.
Princess Lysa was dead. Had she been murdered?
Impossible to say at this point. More than likely, yes.
Cassiopeia had returned with the body, which was now at a Swedish military base being autopsied.
That seemed the best way to keep everything contained.
The firemen at the scene of the explosion had been sworn to secrecy.
They knew there was a body, just not who.
And they’d only need a few more hours.
Why had the house exploded? The preliminary indications pointed to a propane tank. An accident? Or intentional. Impossible to say. That was being actively investigated by fire officials and the local police, given four bodies had been found in the ruins.
She ran through the list of players.
Princess Lysa. Dead by some unknown means.
Was she an SVR asset? It appeared so, confirmed by not only Ivan but in Sigtuna by Monica Butler-White, who openly assaulted John Westlake.
Had Westlake been a spy? Probably, or at least a suspect, given his connections to Monica.
Then there was Ivan, Dimitry Lut, who had interjected himself into the mix, demanding asylum.
Was that real? Or another SVR ploy? No way to pass judgment on that point as yet.
The king was going to have to be informed.
She was not looking forward to that task.
The prime minister had been told about the body, but she agreed to keep that to herself until the cause of death was determined.
Medical officials at the base had said they should know something more definitive in the next couple of hours.
All in all a terrible situation. But she was at a loss as to what she could have done differently.
A knock came to the hotel room door.
A bit early for visitors. Only Cotton and Cassiopeia knew where she was staying. Cotton was off with Ivan. Cassiopeia with the princess’ corpse. She rose from the bed, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, and approached the door, stealing a quick peek through the peephole.
Really? She opened the door.
“You look like crap,” Derrick Koger said.
“And it’s good to see you too. To what do I owe the honor of your presence?” She made no effort to hide her sarcasm. “At such an early hour.”
Koger pointed. “We have a problem.”
And him being here added one huge exclamation point to that observation. So she gestured for him to come in and closed the door.
“Are you watching me?” she asked, wanting to know how she was found.
“My people know how to find somebody.”
Koger looked the same. Tall, with sparse ash-blond hair and candid brown eyes topped by bushy, almost amused, eyebrows. His midsection, which once toted a bit of a beer gut, was gone. He’d definitely slimmed down. She pointed. “You lose that belly on your own?”
“I did it the old-fashioned way.” He flashed a cheeky smile and held out both arms in a mock welcome embrace. “The agency’s European station chief needs to look his best.”
She shook her head. “Like you care what anyone thinks.”
“I care what you think.”
That comment caught her off guard. Then it hit her. “Danny called you.”
“I cannot confirm or deny that allegation. But I thought it necessary to put in a personal appearance.”
“After the junior senator from Tennessee told you to get off your butt and come here?”
“I will say that instruction was not appreciated.”
Just like she thought. She and Danny were going to have a serious conversation as soon as all this was over.
“Since you seem to be Johnny-on-the-spot,” she said, “are you briefed on all that’s happened in the past few hours?”
“Why don’t you enlighten me.”
And she told him what they’d discovered, then asked, “Why has the European station chief come here? It’s not because a former president asked you to.” Then it hit her. “Dmitry Lut.”
Koger shook his head. “That’s your problem. But the Russians know he’s defecting.”
Concerning. But not unexpected. “Are they making a move?”
“We’re not sure. But they definitely know.
Ivan left Moscow unexpectedly and without permission.
I don’t have all the details, but apparently he’s been suspect for some time.
A hanger-on, if you know what I mean. His inside track died with his father-in-law years ago.
We suspect they are going to make a play on the Devil’s Bible today, during transport, then take Ivan down. ”
“You have intel on that?”
He pointed to his belly. “Right here. In my gut. They’re going to try and take that book. Count on it.”
“I am, actually, counting on just that.”
“I told Danny that you were way ahead of us.”
She was still perplexed, though. “This whole thing makes little sense. Why kill the princess before the deadline expires? It seems like there are two different things happening here, neither of which relates to the other.”
“I agree. The Russians have one objective. Monica Butler-White and John Westlake have another. I talked with an analyst who specializes in Monica Butler-White. She has quite a record. An experienced field operative. So they had a lovers spat? Right in front of Cassiopeia, after specifically asking for Cassiopeia to be brought there? A little much, don’t you think? ”
She agreed. “Monica has to be running the whole thing. First she kills the old man Cotton found. Then takes out those sleepers at the law office, who most likely had been working with her. Finally, she kills Princess Lysa and all the men there, then torches the evidence. Everything is gone. Which makes it easy to blame it all on the SVR. Who will, absolutely, deny the allegations, which only makes them look more guilty.”
“But you have a body, which they did not count on.”
“A lot of good it does us. We just know she died, not why or by whom.”
“The Devil’s Bible is not all that important anymore, though the SVR hasn’t forgotten about it. But what they really want is Ivan dead.”
She understood. Completely. Still, “You said we have a problem.”
“I need to run a canary trap.”
She was surprised. “You have a security leak?”
He nodded. “One I inherited from my predecessor who was too blind to take a good look. I’ve been looking at this carefully.”
She wanted to know, “Your security leak and what’s happening here are related?”
“I’m about to make them related. Give a person a fish and you feed them for the day. Teach a person to use the internet and they won’t bother you for weeks, months, maybe years.”
She smiled. “And the relevance of that wonderful piece of wisdom?”
“We need to keep the other side busy. Do you think the SVR has the national library under watch?”
“I hope so.”
A gleam came into the big man’s eyes. “I knew you were way ahead of them. Two great minds, thinking alike. We need to bring them, and my mole, out into the open. But to do that we’re going to need Cotton’s help.” He paused. “Big time.”
She caught the use of a name instead of a catchy label like Captain America. “That sounds both serious and extremely dangerous.”
“It is.”