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Minkin Holdings Safe House
Outside Smolensk, Russia

 

“Sir, we’ve got activity at the road. A vehicle is approaching.”

Minkin smacked Svetlana on the ass and she crawled out of his lap, plopping onto the couch and grabbing a fashion magazine, one she used to grace the covers of before she had become “his.” “Any idea who it is?”

“Not yet, but they’re not just turning around. They’re still approaching.”

Minkin headed for the security office rather than speak to his team through the panels wired throughout the house. He stepped inside, frowning at the displays showing an SUV slowly approaching. He gestured at the screen. “If you were here for a hit, would you drive that slow?”

His head of security, Sergei, shook his head. “No, unless I wanted to look innocent.”

“And would you send just one vehicle?”

“Yes, if I wanted to cause a distraction. I’d send the rest of my men through the woods surrounding the house.”

Minkin tensed, checking the other cameras. “Are we showing anyone approaching?”

Sergei shook his head. “No, just some wildlife. Nothing human.”

Minkin chewed his cheek. “Could they just be lost? Looking for directions?”

“Do you want to risk it?”

“We can’t just kill them without knowing.”

Sergei glanced over his shoulder at him. “If we go out there and challenge them without weapons, we could be killed. If we challenge them with weapons, and they’re just lost tourists, they’re going to report it, and we’re not ready to get you across the border until tomorrow.”

Minkin sighed, tapping his chin. Then smiled. “Svetlana!”

 

Kane stepped out of the vehicle, his arms held high, then opened the rear door, helping the handcuffed Natasha out. He leaned in, looking at Zorkin. “You coming?”

Zorkin frowned then turned off the engine. “Fine, but if I get killed, I’m going to be pissed.”

Kane chuckled, always enjoying Zorkin’s company. The man had been extremely well trained by the Soviets back in the day. His English was perfect, his idioms were spot on, and anyone would be hard-pressed to prove he wasn’t a red-blooded American.

The three of them walked to within fifty feet of the front entrance to the impressive cabin tucked away in the forest outside Smolensk, a place no one would think to look for Minkin, a place Kane was certain was completely off-the-books.

A place now hosting Svetlana’s luggage.

The door opened slightly, the owner of said luggage appearing, trembling with fear and the blast of cold. “Hello?”

“Ms. Lobanov. How are you?”

She brightened as she recognized him. “Mr. Insurance Man! What are you doing here?”

“I need to speak with Mr. Minkin. It’s rather urgent. May we come in?”

She beckoned them to approach when she was pulled back inside by someone, a man Kane recognized from his brief meeting with Minkin appearing, pistol in hand.

“That’s far enough.”

They stopped, and Kane continued to do the talking. “My name is Dylan Kane. I’m here to speak to Mr. Minkin. We are all unarmed. I think Mr. Minkin will want to hear what I have to say.” He pointed to Natasha. “Do you recognize her?”

The man stared at her for a moment then his eyes flared. “Yes!” He aimed his weapon at her. “You dare bring her here?”

“I think your employer will want to hear what she has to say as well.” Kane took one step closer, the weapon redirected at him. “This will only take a few minutes, then you’ll never see us again.”

“Let them in.”

The voice came from inside, and Kane recognized it as Minkin’s. He took Natasha by the arm, Zorkin holding the other, and the three stepped inside, a significant security detail spread around the room, guns on display. Svetlana was curled up on a couch while Minkin took a seat near the fire. He didn’t offer for them to sit.

“Mr. Minkin, it’s good to see you again.”

Minkin frowned. “How did you find me?”

Kane decided getting Svetlana in trouble wasn’t in anyone’s best interest, and besides, if the tracking devices planted on the luggage went undetected, it might prove useful should they need to find Minkin again. “We have very resourceful people at Langley.”

Minkin grunted. “Let’s just hope the Russian authorities aren’t so resourceful.”

“Let’s.”

Minkin folded his arms. “So, why are you here?”

Kane pulled out his phone and brought up a picture of Natasha’s father with her uncle. “Do you recognize anyone in this photo?”

Minkin stared at the photo for a moment then his eyebrows rose. “Yes!”

Kane’s heart rate picked up slightly. “And was he the man in charge?”

“Yes. I saw them together in the hallway after, and it was pretty clear who was in charge between the two of them.”

Kane and Zorkin, and even Natasha, all stared at each other. Kane stepped closer, holding up the phone with the photo. “You’re saying both these men were in the room?”

Minkin nodded. “Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I was sitting at the head of the table. Remember, they wanted it to look like I was in charge.”

“Which one briefed you?”

“The one on the left.”

“That’s my father,” said Natasha, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes still wide with the shock of what had just been said. “W-was he in charge?”

Minkin shook his head. “No, the other one was.”

“My uncle.”

Minkin’s jaw dropped as he grabbed the phone from Kane, zooming in on the second man. “That’s your uncle?” He fell back in his chair, staring at the photo. “I didn’t recognize him.” He shook his head, his mouth agape. “I can’t believe it. Cheslav Aristov was in charge of the entire operation!”

Kane took his phone back. “How can you be sure?”

“I saw them in the hallway afterward having a conversation. It was very clear who among the two was in charge.”

Natasha dropped into a chair, her head shaking. “It can’t be. Why would he lie to me about that? Why would he say he didn’t know? Why would he say it was my father who told him everything?” She looked up at Kane. “Is that why he tried to have me killed today?”

Svetlana gasped. “Your own uncle tried to kill you? How horrible!”

Natasha’s shoulders squared. “He’s not my uncle. He’s just my father’s friend.”

Kane frowned. “I think he was also your father’s commanding officer.” He sat beside her. “I think your uncle recruited your father because they were friends, and he knew he could trust him. Together, they recruited Mr. Minkin here to be the patsy should something go wrong.”

Minkin grunted. “Which it did. I was ordered to clean everything up, so I’d be the one who took the fall if I was discovered.”

“The others were probably on file as agitators against the state, disgruntled agents who didn’t agree with the new reform policies.”

“God knows there were enough of those,” said Zorkin, the last to sit.

Minkin shrugged. “I was one of them. I thought we were making a big mistake, but, well, things worked out in the end.”

Zorkin regarded him. “For you.”

Again, Minkin shrugged. “I’m not going to apologize for my success. They were different times, and everyone was struggling to survive. I had some good dirt on a lot of the new leadership. No one was clean back then. I leveraged it into some good defense contracts, and the rest is history. At least our people aren’t dying by the millions anymore.”

Kane waved his hand, ending the tangent. “That means we now know all six people in the room.”

Minkin eyed him. “You do. I still don’t know who the American was.”

“Nor will you. But everyone is now accounted for, and with Aristov now in custody, this is over.”

Minkin grunted. “I wouldn’t count on it. That man has resources, connections, money, and dirt on everyone. Now that I know who he really is…” He sighed. “A man like that is never in custody until he’s dead. And even then, I’d want to see the body and shoot it a few times just to make sure.” He wagged a finger, leaning back in his chair. “That man has ambitions. Why would he get himself elected now, at his age? Ego. He thinks he can do better than those leading us, which I don’t think is much of a stretch. He wants power.”

Kane eyed him. “I think that’s the stretch.”

“Is it? Look what he’s done. He’s had her running all over the place killing people in extravagant ways. Why Novichok? It can only be traced back to the Russian government, and embarrasses us on the world stage. Why a truck bomb? To make it look like Islamic extremists, so that the government looks weak on terror. Why a machine gun out of the side of a helicopter? To make it look like it was a grand conspiracy.” He turned to Natasha. “He’s been using you the entire time, my dear. He let you clean up his mess from thirty years ago, while making the government he wanted to challenge appear weak. If word had ever gotten out that he was involved in trying to assassinate Gorbachev, he’d be finished. And when you came to him, asking questions, he realized that what had been buried for so long was still a threat to him, so he figured out a way to use you, and you fell for it because you were so hellbent on revenge.” He leaned forward. “I bet you he didn’t agree to help you right away, did he?”

Natasha stared at him blankly. “No. He came to see me the next day.”

“Exactly! He needed time to figure out what to do, and once he had figured out how to use you and the situation to his advantage, he agreed to help you on your little revenge quest.”

“He never loved me.” Natasha’s voice cracked and her shoulders shook. Then she suddenly drew in a deep breath, her jaw squaring as she glared out at the world. “I want him dead.”

Kane regarded her for a moment, an idea formulating. “Do you want to confront him?”

“With a gun.”

Kane smiled. “I doubt that’s possible. I mean a face-to-face. You can ask him anything you want, get some closure. You’re going to prison for the rest of your life. There’s no avoiding that. But at least you could serve your time with your questions answered.”

She stared at him for a moment then nodded. “I’d like that.”