16 |
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.”