23 |

House on Mosfilmovskaya Apartments
Moscow, Russia

 

Kane fixed his tie in the elevator’s mirror as he calmed his libido. Svetlana was a gorgeous woman, and if it were operationally necessary, he would have thrown himself into the role, but it wasn’t. He had what he needed from her, perhaps more than the poor girl realized.

Minkin was planning on breaking out of jail.

The elevator chimed and he gasped as he noticed his fly was still undone, Mr. Happy poking out for a look. He adjusted himself and zipped his fly as the doors opened. He positioned his briefcase strategically to hide the fact he was still a red-blooded male despite being in a committed relationship, and headed for the door, nodding his goodnight to the woman manning the front desk.

Outside, the brisk Moscow winter made its presence felt, and he hurried to the car provided by Zorkin, climbing inside and firing up the engine. He turned on anything that could provide heat, then checked the secure app on his phone for messages.

We have her name. Natasha Ivashin.

He smiled at the message from Leroux. It was only a matter of time before he found her, but if Leroux’s team could discover her identity, then so could the authorities. It was a race to get to her first. He feared that she was merely a replaceable pawn. He needed to know who she was working for, and why, after thirty years, they were trying to clean up after themselves, otherwise Morrison could remain in danger.

And Russians too often shot first then didn’t ask the questions they feared the answers to.

He was no longer convinced the Russian government was involved, though the Western press and off the record government officials were certain it was state sanctioned. The Novichok was the key, but nobody beyond probably the Russian government knew Minkin was responsible for that, and they were keeping that tidbit to themselves, likely waiting for the right moment to release it and embarrass the American and British governments.

He was certain Minkin had stolen the Novichok nerve agent, provided it to this Natasha Ivashin, who then used it to poison Kulick. How she knew to do that was the question. Very few people could have known Kulick’s involvement as a witness to the assassination attempt. He wasn’t involved beyond spotting the sniper, yet she had known to target him.

And why target him?

It had to be either a revenge plot, or a complete containment situation. This wasn’t a mission to punish those who had tried to kill Gorbachev, otherwise Kulick would never have been a target. A containment situation would include anyone who knew, including Kulick and Morrison, despite their innocence. A revenge plot would only target those the person blamed.

He paused, the first hints of heat emerging from the vents.

It would only target those they blamed.

Blamed for what? By targeting Kulick, if it were a revenge plot, then they obviously blamed him for something.

Preventing the assassination by recognizing Boykov?

That made sense, and if it were the case, then Morrison would be on their radar if they knew who he was.

And she had targeted Boykov, the shooter. Why? Was it because he failed in his mission? That was possible.

And those possibilities narrowed the suspect pool. If it were a revenge plot, it had to be someone involved. The guard involved that Morrison had found dead was killed by Boykov. If it were someone related to the dead Russian, then they wouldn’t blame Kulick or Morrison. They would only blame Boykov and those who ordered him to kill the man.

And then there was Minkin, the man who had given the briefing, but who this Natasha had tried to kill moments before the police raid, a raid whose timing was far too coincidental to not be related to the Novichok. That ruled him and his relations out as well.

Everything came back to the two men whose identities they had no clue of.

Could one of them be her uncle?

If he arranged the meeting with Minkin, then it made sense he also told her that Minkin was involved. She tried to kill him with a letter opener. It was doable, but a trained assassin would have succeeded where she failed.

He leaned his head back against the seat.

She’s not a pro.

Would a pro have allowed themselves to be caught on camera in London, planting the nerve agent? Yes, because the UK was drowning with surveillance cameras, but would they have made it so obvious? Would they have timed it so poorly that their victim opened the gate for them?

She was working alone.

Pros would have at least been working in pairs. A lookout would have given her the signal that the targets were approaching, giving her plenty of time to plant the nerve agent and leave without risking an encounter. And pros would have planted it far earlier in a far more innocent manner. In this case, the CCTV footage made it so obvious she was responsible, there was no doubt.

No, she was acting on her own.

Yet she wasn’t. Her uncle had arranged the meeting, according to Svetlana. And more importantly, Minkin had actually handed over the Novichok.

Why would he do that?

He was rich. Extremely rich. Leroux’s file on the man indicated he was worth billions. There was no amount of money that could be offered to a man like that, that would make him handover a deadly nerve agent, that once found out, would leave him facing life in prison or worse.

No, the only reason Minkin would hand over the nerve agent would be if he was afraid for his life.

He’s scared of the uncle.

Who was this uncle? Was he involved? Was he one of the two men they didn’t have identities for?

That made sense, but if he was, why would he use his own niece to clean up his own past?

That didn’t make sense.

The man had to be powerful, someone to be feared, otherwise there was no way Minkin would have done what he had done.

Could she be the one out for revenge?

He chewed his cheek as his mind raced. If this were a revenge plot, which he was now more inclined to believe, then perhaps she was related to someone who had died as a result of the failed plot. The KGB were the types to clean up their failures, so if a participant were executed, and she was to discover the truth all these years later, then it might make sense that she seek revenge. She could go to her rich, powerful uncle, ask him for help, and he agrees, using his money and contacts to assist her along the way.

But why?

Love?

He doubted that.

A smile spread.

For revenge as well!

It’s her uncle. If her father was the one for whom she was seeking revenge, then it was quite possible they were brothers, and he too would want payback. He’d be of the right age to have possibly been in the Soviet military, or even the KGB, so could have contacts from the old days, and if KGB, the ruthlessness to want to seek blood.

Yet why wouldn’t he have done so before? If he had the means to threaten a man like Minkin into stealing a deadly nerve agent, then he had it last year, he had it ten years ago.

Though perhaps not. Money came and went, as did power. Perhaps everything had come together perfectly at this point in time.

He shook his head.

You wouldn’t use your own niece.

When the timing was right, he would take action. No, this was her revenge plot, a plot that her uncle was helping her with, and might even endorse if it was his brother, but it was something he must not have known about before.

She discovered the truth, and brought it to him.

Maybe he wasn’t aware of what had happened to his brother, and once revealed, he too wanted to take action. But why was everything so elaborate? Novichok? Bombing an apartment building? Bullets to the head were much simpler.

Misdirection?

The Russian government was being blamed for the nerve agent attack, regardless of who delivered the poison. Islamic extremists were initially blamed for the bombing, though that was now being questioned, many still blaming them, claiming she was a convert or a black widow in disguise.

Was it all designed to give her time to complete the task?

Yet the methods used made things far more complex than they needed to be.

It’s a message.

Now that made sense. A message was being sent to the others, though to warn them she was coming didn’t make sense. Then again, would those involved thirty years ago know each other now? Kulick was a lowly KGB agent at the time, and off everyone’s radar since. Boykov, who had apparently survived the detonation, would have been one of dozens on a list of victims, his name an alias that few, if any, would have noticed, and any message that might have been intended would have been missed.

He sighed.

None of it made sense, but they were getting closer. The uncle was the key.

Find him, we find her. And hopefully everyone else involved.