Chapter 6 #3
Jim's expression tightened.
Alex understood before he answered.
"You weren't sure yourself, were you?"
His silence was answer enough.
She felt a chill move through her.
"All these years," Alex said. "Brackett used the fertility trials for more than a new project. He wanted leverage over you."
"He did."
"But that wasn't all."
"No."
Alex stood, unable to remain seated. She walked a few steps away, then turned back. "He used Claire because you had become unmanageable."
"Back then, I didn't think it was more than Bill being the opportunist he always was," Jim said. "When Edmond told me about Claire... He and your father were my closest friends, Alexis. Naive as it may have been, I thought Edmond told me for the right reasons."
Alex sat slowly. "Brackett put him up to it. Used his relationship to you as leverage."
"Yes, I believe so. Edmond—" He faltered.
"Edmond used you."
He nodded. "And your father."
Alex pinched the bridge of her nose.
"My allegiance shifted after that, Alex. There were only two men I trusted."
"Who?"
"Your father and Nika."
Alex felt a headache mounting. "And Kapralov?" she asked.
"The civilian side always shared intel," he explained. "The CIA and the KGB were never at odds. They were created for the same purpose—part of the Collaborative's plan to divide the world into manageable pieces. They shared as much intelligence as they ever withheld."
Alex huffed. "Jim, we spent decades at the CIA and NSA spying on Russian nuclear programs, energy, and weapons development."
He nodded.
"You're telling me that was a farce?"
"There were things to be gained from one another, Alexis. The CIA spent most of its time infiltrating foreign research and development for monetary gain. What we learned, we employed. What they were able to steal from us, they used to their advantage. Money is the engine of power. You know that."
"You're telling me that our national security posture was nothing more than a shadow game to make America richer?"
Jim smiled. "You still think about this as protecting nations."
"And how else would I think of it?"
"Most people are corruptible, Alexis. And a taste of power elicits a craving for more.
Money buys influence. Influence is the highest currency any man—or woman—can possess.
You need to stop thinking in terms of 'national' security.
There are those whose mission it is to keep countries safe.
But the world in which you find yourself is littered with self-indulgence.
Not from all, but from too many at the top. "
"And Kapralov? What kind of man is he?"
"He's a man whose vision became tainted by power until his view became clearer."
"Which means?"
"It means that Nika cares about more than himself. He cares about his family, about his country, about the future."
"Like you?"
"I'm not sure I can claim to care as deeply about my country," Jim admitted.
Alex's jaw tensed.
"You asked for the truth," he reminded her.
"I care about my family and their future," he said.
He sighed softly. "What is a country?" he asked, more to himself than to her.
He looked at her. "Lines on a map? Laws in books?
Documents and doctrines? Culture? It's all part of how we define a country, isn't it?
But who defines it, Alexis? Are the children we bear more important because they are conceived within certain lines on a map? "
"That's not what?—"
"It is what we sell," he said. "Our safety is more important than families in Russia, China, or even within the borders of our allies." He shook his head. "I believed that once. Believed that what I did was for a greater good. Or maybe I just told myself that."
Alex studied him for a long moment.
There were answers she had expected from Jim McCollum over the years. Evasion, half-truths, and carefully measured disclosures wrapped in regret were all familiar to her.
She had not expected this.
His words didn't reflect cynicism or a willing betrayal of his country.
Alex felt his disillusionment.
"You don't believe in any of it anymore," she said.
Jim looked down at his hands. "I believe in people."
"That sounds like a convenient way to avoid telling me something."
"It's not convenient at all." Jim looked up.
"I believe in my Claire and Cassie. I have faith in you.
I even believe the president wants what's best—that she believes in something greater.
But for me, Alex? For me, the only belief I have left is that the people we love are the only honest reason to protect anything larger than ourselves. "
"And what about everyone else?"
"They are loved by someone, too."
Alex nodded.
"I failed to understand for too long," Jim said.
"Not because I lacked compassion. Compassion becomes abstract when held against ambition and vanity.
And there are men who play to those weaknesses.
To the blindness they cause. They sell a cause.
But the cause is merely a way to enable their desires—and yours. "
"So where does Nika fit?" Alex asked.
Jim smiled. "You don't give up easily."
"No. Is that a problem?"
"It has been."
Alex's brow lifted.
Jim almost laughed. "Not for me," he said. "For the people who tried to shape you."
She nodded.
"Nika believed in country," Jim said. "Deeply. More deeply than I ever did. But he also understood that nations are often used as masks by men who have no loyalty beyond their reach. He became one of those men for a time."
"And then?"
"And then he lost enough that he began to see himself clearly."
"You mean Pyotr?"
"Losing a child—even by your own choice—is the most painful loss imaginable. At least for any man with the capacity to care."
"You trust him."
"Yes. But that doesn't mean using Nika is safe—for anyone."
"I'm not looking for safe."
"No. You are looking for useful," he said.
"I'm looking for someone who knows where the fractures are."
Jim's expression sobered.
"Do you think Nika Kapralov can help?"
"Yes."
"Because he lived inside the fractures?"
"Partly. He also helped widen some of them."
Alex leaned back.
Jim let that settle.
"The military and civilian intelligence divide," he said.
"Nika knows the men who moved from uniform to ministry to boardroom without ever changing their appetites.
Not only in Russia. He understands that world.
How it works. He knows which men resented the KGB's rise, which men resented the SVR after the Soviet collapse, and which men still believe the state should belong to those who command soldiers rather than those who collect secrets.
And he knows nearly as much about the fractures in the West."
Alex considered Jim's assessment. "Do you know anything about Michael Blaire and Carly St. James?"
"Nothing specific," he said. "Blaire worked both sides of everything."
"Meaning?"
"Just what I said. I know enough about him to understand his allegiance is to himself."
Alex laughed. "And what about Carly St. James?"
"I don't know where her allegiance lies."
"Does Kapralov?"
"Perhaps."
"Jim? You have an idea."
"I have several."
"Give me one."
Jim sighed. "Carly may not belong to Russia. She may not belong to MI6, either. She may belong to the person who convinced her that both sides are corrupt enough to deserve what comes next."
Alex's stomach tightened. "A double agent?"
"A rogue agent."
"Shit." Alex stood and paced to the kitchen window. "What do you think he might do? Popov, I mean?"
"I'm not convinced Yuri Popov is who you should be most concerned with."
"Who, then?"
"Someone closer. Someone who might have more influence over a person like Carly St. James. I don't know."
"Jim. Gregorovich reached out to Claire. She was in France with her stepfather."
Jim nodded slowly.
"Durand? What do you know about him?"
"I don't know much about the French president, Alex. Politics were never my strong suit."
"Would Nika know?"
"He would have theories."
"Theories."
Jim groaned. "Durand is the linchpin."
"For whom?"
"That's the question, isn't it? Why do you want to bring Nika in? You want to know who is playing on which side of the fence." He shook his head. "Have you heard anything I've said?"
Alex bristled.
"Lines on maps are redrawn repeatedly. Fences are broken, replaced—narrowed or extended. That is by design, Alex."
"Fine. Let's say Durand has no real allegiance. That this new alliance between Blaire and the French president isn't driven by any state. What would their next step be?"
Jim took a long breath.
"Sow confusion," he said.
"It seems we already have that."
"Yes. But I mean something that extends beyond the inner circles of governments and politics."
"Another attack?"
"Not the kind you've prepared for," he replied. "System failures. Competing narratives. Governments blaming one another before they understand what has happened. People sitting in the dark, waiting for someone to tell them whom to fear."
"Energy," she muttered.
Jim did not answer quickly enough.
Alex's eyes sharpened. "You think they'll go after energy infrastructure again."
"I think they will go after dependence."
"Electric grids."
"Among other things."
"Communication?"
"Likely."
"Transportation?"
"It's possible. The goal will be to make you feel isolated and afraid—everyone."
"To what end?"
"There's never an end." He sighed. "To create an opening."
"For?"
"To amass more power, perhaps to redistribute it. I could guess at names. I spent decades underground questioning men about their alliances and directives. It always opened more questions. My role was to gather information, Alex. I'm not the man who determined the meaning of what I learned."
Alex rubbed her temples. She turned back to Jim. "Then help me bring Kapralov in."
Jim closed his eyes briefly.
"Alexis."
"No. Don't warn me. Don't tell me it's dangerous. Don't tell me what people will think or what governments will do if they discover he's alive. I already know enough to understand the risk."
"You may underestimate?—"
"His willingness to help?" Alex asked.