Chapter 21 #2
“I guess it’s how she describes it in the book—she followed me to the embassy from Restaurant Fyodor one night and heard the guard greet me, so then she knew my name.
I’m sure I don’t need to explain that—contrary to the book—when we met, she didn’t announce that she had evidence that I was supplying intel to the Russians and blackmail me to get her to the U.S.
, in the same way you don’t need to explain that you didn’t shoot the COS to save her. ”
“Yeah, uh, that was me,” Alice said, feeling like she was mediating. “Creative license.”
“Problem is, both scenes are just plausible enough to raise eyebrows up on level seven at Langley, and of course, the embassy has a record of her visit, so the dates match. Like I say, just enough correct details to make the rest sound credible.”
“So what did you discuss?” Carter said. Alice didn’t need to look at him to know he was speaking through clenched teeth.
“The same thing you and I had discussed. She wanted to marry you and get an exfil. She told me she knew who was sharing intel with the Russians, and she had documents to prove it. I said, ‘Okay, you give me your evidence, I’ll see what I can do.’ She said no, she wanted to go to the top.
So I set up the meeting with the station chief. That’s as much as I know.”
“At the safehouse.”
“No, not that meeting. This one was earlier, at a hotel. I figure the first one was when she laid out her demands, the second, at the safehouse, was when the swap was made—and we know what happened there. At least, we know the outcome.”
“And what do you know about his death?”
“Ah. That’s the most problematic thing about the book.
She describes the death in the kind of detail you wouldn’t know unless you were there, and in my very good recollection, it tallies exactly with the autopsy report, which is highly classified.
This information has never been released, and yet in the book, she describes the sound the silencer makes, the way the bullets pierce his neck and then his chest before the final double-tap to the head.
The way he gargles before the final, fatal shot.
She describes the wounds, just as they were—the angles of the shots, the distance between shooter and victim.
The blood spatter. Where he landed. The goddamn expression on his face, just as it was in the crime scene photos.
She watched him die, no doubt about it.”
“She might have been shown crime scene photos when she was interrogated in the U.S. I was.”
“It was much more than that. And in the book, of course, you’re the one pulling the trigger. Like I say, problematic.”
“That last part was my invention,” Alice said, puffing a little to keep up as they passed staff carrying platters of nibbles. Alice looked away so they wouldn’t get a good look at her face.
“And yet whoever did commit the murder let her go,” Carter muttered, evidently trying to keep his voice and his temper down.
“Which either means that she was in on it, or that whatever bargaining material she had, it was enough. There is a lot here that I’m not privy to, which makes it hard to defend myself against it.
But I’ve come too far to let my campaign be dismantled by this.
” Randolph halted. “This is as far as I go. Follow this corridor to the loading bay and you’re clear. ”
“One more thing, Randolph. The leak. The list. What happened with all that?”
“That’s another reason level seven is liking you for this. Once you and Annika got what you wanted, it magically fixed itself. The list of operatives was never leaked.”
“In the book, that’s because you were scared straight.”
“Straight as an arrow, me. Just like in the book.”
“So … what? They’re liking me for the murderer and the traitor?”
“In for a ruble…”
“But there’s no evidence of either,” Alice protested. “It would never make it to a trial.” She looked from one grave expression to the other. “And now you’re both looking at me like I’m insufferably naive.”
“Evidence can surface,” Randolph said, “especially now that Annika has effectively given testimony that puts her in the room. And Carter was her handler, plus they were in a relationship, which gives him an incentive to get her entry into the U.S.”
“We weren’t in a relationship.”
“I’m just telling you what I’m hearing. Which is that the two of you worked together on this.”
“Why would either of us kill him? She got what she wanted, what she went there to get, and she was on the train with me within hours. She would have known she couldn’t get away with killing him—we’d be the first people they’d track down, and we were.”
“Perhaps he was still a threat to her. Perhaps she thought she’d have disappeared into the U.S.
by the time his body was found. Perhaps she knew he hadn’t told anyone where he was going.
Perhaps he was holding out on giving her what she wanted, even though he had it right there in his hand.
Perhaps it doesn’t matter. They’ll find a smoking gun, and you’d better hope they don’t find your prints on it. ”
“Then why would she stay the night with me at a hotel ten miles from Langley, under my real name?”
“People in love can do strange things. If it was obvious to me when I met her that that was what it was about, for her, it would have been obvious to the FBI. Oldest motive in the book.”
“So what did she bargain with, and who has it now?”
“That’s the seventeen-million-dollar question.”
“Randolph, do you have people out there looking for her bargaining chips?”
Randolph tilted his head, surprised. “Not as actively as I’d like, why?”
“What does that mean—have you sent someone after it, after us?”
“No, I haven’t.” Randolph checked the spot where his watch would normally be, and grunted. “I need to go. My donors will be imploding, and I need to keep on their good side, especially now. And I’d rather not give the FBI any more excuses to come after me.”
“One more question,” Carter said. “That SDR you ordered on Nika and me in Moscow, before the burn notice…”
“Ah,” Randolph said, obviously expecting the question.
“There was no one watching us, was there?”
“Yes and no. See, here’s the thing. The guys were adamant no one was physically following you.
But the counter-intel was clear—someone was tracking your every move on that trip, and Annika had landed on the Kremlin radar, for sure.
They just decided it was better to let her leave.
Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “keep in touch on this. I wish I could do more to help.”
“You could—I don’t know—use your national platform to exonerate me?”
“I can’t see that serving my campaign. But I’ll give you a ten-minute head start before I tell the FBI which direction you fled in. How’s that?”
“I see you’re just as much of a self-serving sonovabitch as you ever were.”
“I can’t stand it when people appear to be one thing and turn out to be another.”
“And yet you’re going into politics.”
“Good to see you again, moy droog. One day let’s meet somewhere that doesn’t have urinals.”
As Randolph turned back the way they’d come, Carter and Alice hurried down the corridor.
“What else did Randolph say?” Alice said as they stepped into a loading bay, where a catering supply truck was backing up.
“You only missed the pleasantries. He drew a blank on Tatiana and Yakov.”
“Do you get the impression there’s something he’s not telling you?”
“Always. Shit, get down.” Carter grabbed Alice’s hand and pulled her behind a stack of blue plastic crates. His hand still holding hers, he peered around the side and then quickly pulled back. “The woman you saw earlier—what does she look like?”
“Dark hair, tied back but kinda messy. Hooked nose. Aviators. Around five-eight, in her forties. Wearing dark pants and a dark shirt.”
Carter waited for the occupants of the truck to clear the loading dock, their voices moving into the kitchens. He motioned for Alice to stay put and crept out. There was a scuffle, a whole lot of grunting, a crash.
“Alice!” Carter called. She darted out to see him standing over a slim blond guy who was lying on the concrete behind the truck, aiming a handgun at the guy’s chest. “I take it this is not the person.”
“No.”
Carter tossed her something. A wallet. “Check for ID.”
Alice drew out a driver’s license. “His name is Leonard Poole.’”
“So, Leonard Poole, wanna tell me why you’re coming after me with a gun?”
“Nope. And you’re not gonna pull that trigger, since I know for a fact there’s FBI agents gonna be here any second.”
“Well then, you might wanna hang tight. Lucky for you, I’m on my way out.”
Carter backed out of the loading bay into the lane behind the hotel, jerking his head to indicate that Alice should go ahead of him. A scrambling noise indicated the guy had gotten up. Seconds later, his footfalls sounded in the corridor, as he yelled out to someone called Wade.
Alice and Carter emerged into sunshine, which reflected off concrete on all sides.
He emptied the gun, tossing the weapon into a dumpster and the ammunition into another.
About thirty yards along the lane, he pulled her into an alcove—an emergency exit door inset into a neighboring building.
He took off her cap, punched it to turn it inside out, and put it back on her head, transforming it from black to mustard.
He did the same with his jacket, reversing the color to the original black, and pulled a pair of sunglasses and a black beanie from his pocket and put them on.
“Who do you think that guy was?” Alice said. “Some kind of hitman?”
Carter laughed. “Hitman?”
“Well, I don’t know, do I? It’s not my kind of thing.”
“No chance. He folded as soon as I looked at him. If he was a professional we’d be dead. Which eliminates Russian illegals. And they’re obviously not FBI. Who else is after us, again?”
“There’s the window washers?”
“They were well-organized. That guy was random.” Carter checked the alley and took her hand. “Nice and easy now. We’re going to stroll down that alleyway to your right. Once we’re behind the fence, run.”
By the time they reached the bike, the blue sedan was no longer there.
“Damn,” Carter said. “I wanted to get the plate.”
“I got it,” Alice said, changing back into her jeans. “I scratched it into the concrete with a stick before I came to warn you. Down there in the corner.”
“Legend,” he said, typing it into his phone. “I’ll get Mom onto it.”
“Isn’t that weird, though? If this guy Leonard came here with the woman in the car, why would she leave without him? He couldn’t have beaten us here.”
“They could be unrelated.”
“You think two different sets of people are chasing us with guns?”
“Four, if you include the FBI and the Russians.” Carter hopped on the bike. “Does it feel like lunchtime to you? That hotel kitchen smelled good.”
“I didn’t notice a smell, aside from my own terror. What do we do now?”
“Do some research into who these randoms are.”
“Back at the cabin?” Her butt ached at the thought of another long bike ride.
“First rule of tradecraft: Never go back to the same place twice. Mom’s arranged a safe place for us in D.C.” He went to put on his helmet, then paused. “Thank you,” he said. “If you hadn’t come to find me just then… That took guts.”
“More like the fear of one thing slightly outweighed the fear of the other.”
He grinned, in that way that never failed to make her go all gooey, even amid all this insanity. “That’s my girl.”