Nobody knew who they were beyond their basic identities, though Reading knew more. He was privy to the fact this man used to be KGB, and that he had been partnered with Director Morrison of the CIA in 1988.

  And that he had recognized a man who would later attempt to assassinate Gorbachev, and fail.

  He was certain the two events were connected, only by the fact of the method used in the murder attempt. Novichok was only available to the Russians and no one else. And it wasn’t exactly lying around at every military installation for someone to steal. It was all located in Shikhany, a highly secure facility.

  No, the Russians were behind this. The questions were why, and how to prove it.

  Yet for the moment, it appeared there would be no getting close to the only people who might know, despite his credentials. Not only were they both unconscious, they were behind a wall of security.

  “Hugh?”

  Reading spun on his heel and did a doubletake as he recognized an old colleague. “DI Nelson? My word, I haven’t seen you in years!”

  Nelson extended a hand, giving him a hearty handshake. “Not since you left the Yard and joined Interpol.” He bowed slightly. “And it’s Detective Chief Inspector now.”

  Reading smiled broadly, his prediction that the young man would achieve big things confirmed. “Congratulations.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the circus behind him, a way in perhaps having just presented itself. “You involved in this?”

  Nelson nodded. “I am. My promotion meant moving here. Quite the thing, quite the thing. These damned Russians need to be put on a leash.”

  “So, you think it’s the Russians?”

  Nelson eyed him. “Don’t you? I mean, who else could it be?”

  “Oh, I think so too, I’m just happy to hear I’m not off base.” He lowered his voice. “Any leads? Any idea who actually did the deed?”

  “We’re canvassing, of course, interviewing all the neighbors, pulling all the CCTV footage, but get this.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “We think it might have been a woman.”

  Reading’s eyebrows shot up. “A woman?”

  “Yes. We have footage showing her walking up to their door, doing something that we can’t see because her body blocks the camera, then walk away. The victim even held the gate open for her!”

  “So, she must have been waiting for them, saw them coming, planted the nerve agent, then left.” He paused, his jaw dropping slowly. “It was the door handle, wasn’t it?”

  Nelson slapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve still got it. That’s exactly right. They both touched it when they went inside, then some of the first responders did as well, though most of it had already transferred to the intended targets.”

  “We don’t think the daughter was intentionally targeted, do we?”

  Nelson shrugged. “I think there was a message being sent here. It’s his residence, so he was definitely the target, and taking out the daughter was probably a nice bonus for them.”

  “Will they survive?”

  Nelson frowned. “The daughter managed to dial 9-9-9 before passing out, so first responders got there very quickly. If not, they likely would have been found when the neighbors started complaining about the smell. The doctors are saying it’s fifty-fifty right now, though we’re not letting the press know that. We want whoever is behind this to think they’ve succeeded and it’s just a matter of time.”

  Reading extended his hand and Nelson took it. “It was great seeing you again. Do you mind if I give you a call for an update?”

  “Not at all.” Nelson fished a business card from his pocket. “Just in case you lost my number.” He winked.

  Reading laughed. “It really was good to see you.”

  Nelson became serious. “Listen, I was sorry to hear about Martin. A great loss.”

  Reading’s good mood disappeared at the mention of his late partner. “It was a shock, to say the least.”

  Nelson forced a smile. “I’ll tell you what. When this is over, we’ll get some of the lads together for some drinks, and we’ll hoist a few in his memory.”

  Reading smiled, thrilled with the idea. “I’ll hold you to it.”

  He headed for the nurses’ station, his heart aching at the mention of his former partner, seeing Nelson for the first time in years causing too many memories to flood back. He missed Chaney desperately, his mourning for his friend’s loss never really ending, not a day going by without some sort of emotional reaction, though there was a little more laughter than tears now.

  But all that would have to wait. He had a job to do, and thanks to Nelson, might now have a solid lead.

  Now, where are you, Nurse Midge Aldrin?

  15 |

  Off-the-books Operations Center Outside Bethesda, Maryland

  Leroux paced the length of the shipping container, the claustrophobia getting to him. He hadn’t seen the light of day since setting foot inside, nor taken a breath of fresh air. When Kane had given him the address, he had been stunned at what he found, and realized just how prepared Kane was for any eventuality.

  His friend trusted no one.

  Well, almost no one. He assumed Kane trusted what he thought of as the inner circle. Himself and Sherrie, as well as Fang, and perhaps even Morrison, though their boss was bound by orders from above that might leave Kane twisting in the wind should the Administration decide he no longer served their purposes.

  Leroux regarded the equipment surrounding him, now manned by a yawning Sonya, and an eager Tommy who seemed filled with boundless energy.

  Reminds me of my Red Bull days.

  He had been addicted to the stuff, the caffeine-infused beverage fueling late nights behind the keyboard, until Sherrie had finally convinced him to give it up. She had been the incentive he had been searching for, and once found, going cold turkey had been difficult, yet successful, and now he no longer missed the addictive concoction.

  Though in times like these, he sometimes wished he could indulge.

  Sonya yawned again.

  “Why don’t you take a nap?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

  “No, that’s an order. Grab a few hours. You’ll be that much sharper.”

  She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “You’re right.” She rose, heading for the doorway that connected them to the second container. She turned. “Wake me if you need me.”

  He nodded and she disappeared. His eyes lingered after her, and he wondered what might have happened between them if Sherrie hadn’t entered his life when she did. If they hadn’t met, or hadn’t made things work, would he have had the courage to ask Sonya out? She liked him, there was no doubt of that, but if it weren’t for Sherrie, he would still be that puniest of men he once was, with zero self-confidence, and absolutely no skills when it came to women.

  Today, the way he was now, if he were single and Sonya didn’t report to him, he could see himself asking her out, though the very thought of it sent butterflies rippling through his stomach, then a wave of guilt at the thought. But the man he was before?

  Never in a million years would he have found the courage to ask her.

  “Got something.”

  Leroux tore his eyes away from the closed door and took a seat beside Tommy, the young man proving to be an extremely valuable addition to their unofficial team. If it weren’t for his history, he might make a good formal addition.

  I’ll have to talk to the Chief when this is all done.

  “What have you got?”

  “I found the woman Agent Reading told us about.” He pointed at a screen showing footage of a woman walking up to the victim’s door, standing there for several seconds, then leaving, the gate to the row of houses opened by the victim himself.

  “You can’t really see her face there, can you?”

  Tommy shook his head. “Nope. But you can on this one.”

  Another video displayed, the same woman walking quickly down the street then climbing into a car, but not before she took a glance over her shoulder, her face revealed to the camera. “Can you plot that?”

  “Already done.”

  Leroux’s heart hammered at the anticipation in Tommy’s voice. “And?”

  “And she’s an exact match for the woman in Moscow who planted the bomb the next day.”

  Leroux slapped Tommy on the back. “Excellent work! Do we have the list of residents yet?”

  “Yes, it arrived when you were asleep. Sonya is running it against our databases, so hopefully, if there’s something to find, we’ll know soon.”

  “And that tip from Special Agent West about the woman possibly involved in the Minkin arrest? Anything yet?”

  “No, but it’s just a matter of time. Everyone is on social media these days, whether they want to be or not.”

  “Okay. Let’s track this woman in Salisbury. See if we can find out where she went.”

  “Won’t the Brits be doing that anyway?”

  Leroux nodded. “Yes, but they’re not likely to share what they find with us, and we need to know where she is. Right now, it looks like she’s involved with two serious attacks in as many days. We need to figure out who she is, and where she is, so we can stop her, find out who she’s working for, and why, so we can prevent the Chief from becoming a target.”

  “Roger Roger. I’ll find her for you, that’s a promise.”

  Leroux ignored the overconfidence, though from what he had seen so far, the kid might just have the skills to come through.

  It was a good team.

  Sonya was a fantastic analyst, one he had come to rely on over the years. Her recognizing the fact that a suspected Islamic terrorist bombing in Moscow of an apartment building, actually carried out by a blond white woman, might be related to the woman the police had sought when Minkin was arrested, was brilliant, and had proven correct now that they had matched her to the Salisbury attack.

  This woman was the key, and now that they had clear images of her face, it was only a matter of time before they found her.

  The world was wired.

  And he had access to almost all the cameras out there.

  Sooner or later, she’d cross paths with one of them.

  16 |

  Podzemnyy Parking Garage Moscow, Russia

  A match struck to Kane’s right and he smiled at the familiar face revealed by the flare. The cigarette lit, the man’s footsteps echoed in the parking garage as he emerged from the darkness.

  “Special Agent Kane. Good to see you again.”

  Kane shook the man’s hand. “Viktor Zorkin, I’m glad to see you’re still alive. I wasn’t so sure.”

  “What is it they say? Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated?”

  Kane chuckled. “Something like that.” Viktor Zorkin had been KGB during the height of the Cold War, a master spy and rival to Alex West, though one who always was guided by honor, rather than dogma. Kane had worked with him before, and trusted him not only because the man had Alex West’s blessing, but because he had been in enough scraps with him to know whose side he was on. He glanced around the rundown structure. “Are we secure here?”

  “Secure enough. None of the cameras actually work here, at least for the moment.” He beckoned Kane toward a nearby car and popped the trunk, revealing two duffel bags. “Everything a good spy needs to start a small war.”

  Kane unzipped the bags, making a quick inspection, then closed them back up. “And the car?” He stepped back to make sure it wasn’t a certain British sportscar.

  “Clean. No one will pull you over for expired tags or a broken taillight.”

  “Excellent.” He turned to Zorkin. “So, is there anything you can tell me? We’ve got six suspects.”

  Zorkin shook his head. “No, you’ve got far more than six.”

  Kane’s eyebrows shot up, only joking about the six since one of them was West, Zorkin’s rival during the Cold War but a friend in the years that ensued, another was killed the day of the assassination by the shooter, and the shooter was left for dead by West. “Am I missing something? We have West, Minkin who West confirmed was in the room, the shooter whom West killed, the man at the entrance who was killed with his American counterpart, and two others. That leaves only those two that might be alive that could be suspects.”

  “All men too old to be rushing off to England to poison people, don’t you think?”

  Kane regarded Zorkin. “I’ve seen you in action, and you fit the age group.”

  Zorkin chuckled. “True, my friend, but I think we need to widen the suspect pool a bit.”

  “To whom?”

  “Family, friends, sons, daughters. All I’m saying is, don’t put your blinders on so quickly.”

  “Daughters.” Kane pursed his lips. “Funny you should mention that. We’ve got a blond woman linked to the poisoning in Salisbury, an explosion at a building in Moscow, and possibly to the arrest of Minkin.”

  Zorkin’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  Kane nodded. “I’m surprised you weren’t already aware.”

  Zorkin grunted. “It’s getting harder to be kept in the loop as the years pass. Too many old friends dying of natural causes. And some unnatural.” His eyes narrowed. “One of the two other men must have been the target. Do you have a list of names for that explosion?”

  Kane pulled out his phone, bringing up the list of residents that Leroux had sent him. He handed it over and Zorkin quickly scrolled through before his eyes flared. “Luka Yerkhov. I know this name.”

  Kane’s pulse picked up a few beats. “From where?”

  “The old days. But why do I remember it?” He leaned against the car, scratching at his leathery skin, then smiled. “That crafty bastard!”

  “What?”

  “Luka Yerkhov was an alias used by none other than our shooter, Vasily Boykov.”

  Trepidation swept over Kane, his voice lowering. “That means West didn’t kill him.” A pit formed in his stomach as he wondered for a moment whether West had lied.

  “Interesting. It’s not like my old adversary to fail, though his job was to foil the assassination, which he did.” He eyed Kane for a moment. “You think he might be involved.”

  It was a statement, not a question, yet Kane answered regardless. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

  Zorkin chuckled. “Then put your mind at ease. There’s no way Alex West was involved in this. I assume Director Morrison told you what happened?”

  “Yes. West tricked Boykov, shot him in the back, then told Morrison to get lost.”

  “Exactly. If he were involved, don’t you think he would have killed your boss as well?”

  Kane nodded. “True. Let’s assume West is innocent. It just makes things simpler. I’m going to get my people on Boykov and see if he was killed in the bombing. I like your idea of a relation being involved. She could be the daughter of one of the two men we don’t know.”

  “Or the man who was killed the day of, or of Boykov, or of someone else we don’t know about. We can’t know.”

  “True. But at least we have another lead thanks to that memory of yours.” Kane chewed his cheek. “But where to start?”

  “Minkin was in the room. We know that from Alex. A blond woman was momentarily wanted after his arrest. That suggests she was either there to perhaps kill him, or is related to him.”

  “Or was buying the nerve agent from him.”

  Zorkin cursed. “My memory might be good, but my ability to sense conspiracies is fading. You’re right of course, that’s exactly it. His company could have access to that. She meets him, makes the purchase, then he gets raided. She escapes somehow, someone remembers seeing her, perhaps a secretary, they try to find her, but someone quashes it.” He smiled. “If I were you, I’d try to find out who killed the bulletin on this woman. It might lead to who is behind this.”

  “You think someone is protecting her?”

  “We have to assume she’s a nobody. If you’ve linked her to at least two events, then so have the authorities, and if they’ve identified her, she’d be all over the news by now.”

  Kane grunted. “And nobodies don’t have the money or connections to buy Novichok nerve agents, or explosives to fill a van.”

  “Exactly. She’s being protected, and probably funded, by someone of means with connections. Good connections. You need to find out why this woman was wanted at the time of the arrest. In fact, forget who canceled the search. He’ll have had some underling do it, or have made a phone call that there will be no record of, and denied by whoever received it.” Zorkin wagged his finger. “No, you need to find out who Minkin sold the Novichok to.”

  Kane frowned. “Obviously, but how do I do that?”

  Zorkin smiled. “What does every powerful executive have?”

  Kane shrugged. “A fatter wallet than me?”

  Zorkin chuckled. “That, and a secretary he’s banging.”

  17 |

  Off-the-books Operations Center Outside Bethesda, Maryland

  “Her name is Svetlana Lobanov. She’s a former swimsuit model, graced the covers of a bunch of Russian magazines before those same magazines started reporting she was having an affair with Yury Minkin, which he denied and sued them for libel.”

  Sonya stared at the photos of the busty blonde flashing across one of the displays. “Did he win?”

  Tommy continued scanning his notes. “It looks like things were settled out of court, no new photos or articles appeared, and the story’s gone cold for the past two years.”

  Leroux stretched, fighting a yawn. “And this is his secretary now?”

  “Yup.”

  Sonya grunted. “I wonder what the wife thinks of that.”

  “Nothing. She died six months ago.”

  “It probably killed her knowing this bitch was working twenty feet from her husband day in and day out.”

  Leroux tore his eyes away from the chesty photos. “Do we have a location on her?”

 

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