CHAPTER 13

Despite his lingering animosity toward the general, Esterhaus proved to be a generous host. After the tea shop closed for the evening, he dug an assortment of food and drinks from the refrigerator in the small apartment he kept upstairs, the spread being all the more impressive given the lack of time in which he threw it together.

“This aperitif is a tradition of mine,” said the big man as he laid an assortment of cheeses and charcuterie down on a wood board, along with a bowl of olives and salted nuts. “It is perhaps the thing I miss the most from Illyrica.”

The general’s eyebrow flickered at this, but Kovalic noticed he didn’t hesitate to accept an old-fashioned from the man. Rance demurred, sticking with a sparkling water, and Kovalic contented himself with a glass of excellent red wine.

“So,” said Esterhaus, seating himself in a well-worn leather armchair. The last vestiges of the setting sun, sinking over the horizon, painted the room in reds and golds, even through the automatically tinting windows. “This mole of yours – have you any leads?”

Kovalic exchanged a look with the general, who gestured at him to proceed. “Nothing concrete, but we do have a person of interest. Aidan Kester.”

“I don’t know the name,” said Esterhaus, brows knitting, “but you’ll have to forgive me: my memory isn’t what it once was.”

A slightly skeptical expression played over the general’s face, but he covered it with a sip of his drink.

“Deputy Director for Operations of the Commonwealth Intelligence Directorate,” Kovalic supplied. “And, thanks to the recent resignation of the two top-ranking CID officials, now its current acting director.”

“I see. What makes you think Acting Director Kester is involved?”

“His promotion was a direct result of the same operation being used to cast suspicion upon General Adaj, myself, and the rest of our team,” said Kovalic. It had been Nova Front’s revelation of CID’s AUGUR program, which would have given the agency unchecked ability to spy on Commonwealth citizens, that had forced the CID director and deputy director for intelligence to step down.

“Hm,” said Esterhaus, helping himself to a square of hard cheese. “Circumstantial evidence at best. You don’t rise that far through the ranks of an intelligence agency without being adept at playing politics – perhaps he was simply in the right place at the right time to capitalize on the misfortune of others.”

“Deputy Director Kester has been on our radar for some time,” the general broke in, his tone grave. “He was particularly well informed about an operation we conducted on Bayern nine months ago; at the time I chalked it up to his connections – he’s married to the son of a high-ranking civil servant – but it ultimately proved to be because he had compromised one of our own team members.”

Kovalic’s mouth set, his fingers tightening on his wine glass. He had resolved matters with Aaron Page, but both the betrayal and the fact that Kester had wormed his way into his team – and, more to the point, that Kovalic hadn’t caught it – still stung.

“My concerns have stretched even further back,” the general continued. “There was a CID mission on Caledonia around a year and a half ago that Kester oversaw which resulted in the death of a veteran operative and had some… other significant ramifications.”

“Ah,” said Esterhaus, raising his own glass, “but I seem to recall you always advising me not to overestimate my adversaries’ capabilities, Hasan. What was it you used to say? ‘When you posit the existence of a bogeyman, you start to see their hand in everything’.”

The general let out a harrumph. “I’m sure I said nothing of the sort.”

Esterhaus laughed, a big genial guffaw that filled the room as much as he did, then glanced over at Kovalic and Rance. “He fancies himself very quotable, even if he would never admit it. Very well, Acting Director Kester is a person of interest at the very least. I presume that to clear yourself requires proving someone else’s guilt.”

“Ideally,” said the general.

“And if you were desperate enough to turn to me, then I assume it’s because of my own particular skills and specialties. So you want surveillance on Acting Director Kester: video, sound, drone, tails? And for resources you have…” Here he paused, his dark eyes going to Rance and Kovalic. “These two. I assume you yourself will not be heading into the field.” A note of irony underscored the non-question.

“I think perhaps I might be more useful elsewhere,” said the general dryly.

“Of course, of course.” Esterhaus’s mouth quivered in a barely contained smile. “It’s a tall order, given the resources at hand. There was a time where I could have snapped my fingers and had Acting Director Kester’s entire life laid out before us, but these days my capabilities are a bit more modest.” At this, he rose from his seat, carefully setting his glass down on a coaster, and walked over to a door that Kovalic had taken for a closet. The big man pressed his finger to the access panel and it blinked green, the lights in the room beyond coming on with a bright snap as the door slid open.

Even from the mere sliver Kovalic could see through the doorway, he was relatively certain this was more than just a place to keep coats. He caught sight of an impressive set of displays, each showing a camera feed from around the tea shop, including even an overhead view that had to be supplied by a drone hovering above them – there was no way Esterhaus could have access to a satellite… right?

“I see old habits do indeed die hard,” said the general.

“You know how it is. Once you’ve been privy to all the details, it’s hard to ignore them.”

“I’m guessing you don’t get a lot of crime here,” said Kovalic.

“It is perhaps overkill,” Esterhaus acknowledged with a self-deprecating smile. “But I sleep better at night knowing that if Eyes does decide it finally needs to tie up loose ends, I will at least be apprised of their coming.”

“Luckily for you, I think they’ve got more pressing matters to attend to,” said Kovalic. He’d met Lakshmi, the putative head of IIS’s Nova station, just a few days ago, and she’d struck him as an immensely capable woman who didn’t miss a trick. If she’d been ordered to take Esterhaus off the board, he would have been long gone by now.

“But as I said,” Esterhaus reiterated, “this will be difficult. The acting director of CID is a hard target – well protected, with a security detail and no doubt myriad anti-surveillance measures in place.”

The general spread his hands and grinned with the air of a mischievous schoolboy. “My dear Yevgeniy – I would hardly have come to you if it were going to be easy.”

Esterhaus gave him a hard look for a moment, then wheezed a rueful chuckle. “I’ve forgotten how much I did enjoy your flattery.” He wagged his head, like a great horse shaking its mane. “Very well, then. Since we cannot hope to overwhelm their technology, our best bet is something low tech: eyes-on surveillance from our younger, sprightlier pair,” he said, waving a hand at Kovalic and Rance, “while Hasan and I dig up what we can about Kester’s movements from other sources.”

Kovalic looked over to Rance, who had taken this with her usual equanimity, and then back at Esterhaus. “So in other words, we’re the ones doing all the work, while you two sit here and enjoy appetizers and drinks?”

“Delegation, my friend,” said Esterhaus. “Plus, the perks of age. We can’t be sitting in a groundcar on a stakeout, leaving every twenty minutes to use the bathroom.”

“My legs get very cramped in those vehicles,” the general added, his eye twinkling.

“Your legs are robotic.”

But the older man ignored the comment and turned to Rance. “Is our vehicle still clean, or had we better swap it with another, do you think?”

Rance waggled her hand. “I’d rather not bring it back into Salaam, just in case it’s been flagged. They’ll have a harder time tracking us down here.”

“Yevgeniy,” said the general. “I don’t suppose you have a car you’d like to lend us?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much need for one in town – I walk most everywhere. But I can borrow one.” He raised a finger. “I will, however, need it back in one piece, if you please.”

Kovalic was about to open his mouth to point out that it was just surveillance, but given that the number of high-speed chases he’d been in over the past week was more than zero, he decided it was best not trying to score that particular point. “Understood.”

The big man clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “Well, then, let’s see about getting you outfitted, shall we?”

It turned out that Esterhaus’s command center – and Kovalic couldn’t come up with a better word for the room – also boasted a sizable storage locker. He opened it up for Rance and Kovalic to peruse, though the general demurred with a wave.

“Just because I’m out of the game doesn’t mean I’m going to be caught unprepared,” said Esterhaus by way of explanation. The cabinet contained a collection of carefully maintained – if somewhat worn – weaponry and surveillance equipment. “I keep my ear to the ground, as it were, and there’s plenty of military surplus on sale if you know where to look.”

“Is that a nanoweave pickup?” said Rance, her interest piqued as she peered at a swatch of fabric on one shelf.

“Ah, I see you know your surveillance equipment. Yes – an older model, but perfectly functional. Ideal for passive monitoring, but difficult to use without direct access to your target.” He pursed his lips in thought. “This job is going to be tricky. I’d assume that the Acting Director of CID’s home, office, and vehicle are swept daily, which makes planted listening devices a bad idea. Compromising his sleeve would obviously be ideal but requires close contact, which could be risky if he knows your faces.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to fly,” said Kovalic. “What we need is some place outside of his control.”

Esterhaus’s eyes lit up. “Exactly. When the circumstances aren’t conducive, change the parameters – another of your little aphorisms, Hasan,” he said, raising his voice so the general could hear him, “though, really,” he added in a quieter voice, “it’s not particularly catchy.”

“We force him to break his routine,” said Rance. “Move him to an environment where he won’t be as well protected.”

“Precisely,” said Esterhaus. “Even better if you can nudge him in a specific direction, since that allows you to be there ahead of him – then you have the home-field advantage.”

Kovalic rubbed his chin, mind already reviewing the possibilities. They’d need to establish a pattern first, before they could figure out the best opportunity, and that was going to require eyes-on. “We’ll need some binocs – compact, unobtrusive, with good magnification.”

“Here,” said Esterhaus, pulling open the drawer and handing a black case to Kovalic. “These are my best set.”

Kovalic popped the lid; the grips were worn but still intact, and the lenses were clearly well cleaned. “Analog,” he noted approvingly.

Esterhaus gave a tch of disgust. “Electronic surveillance has its place, but it can be jammed or scrambled. These won’t help you much at night, but they’re absolutely reliable.”

Personally, Kovalic had to agree. Sometimes the old ways were the best, as a certain sergeant had once taught him. A pang needled his gut at the thought of Tapper; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone on an op without the old man in the field with him. Had to be years.

He shook his head. “All right, then. Looks like we’re headed back to Salaam – after a good night’s sleep, anyway.” The adrenaline rush that he’d been riding since Kester had stormed into the general’s office that morning was ebbing, and his energy along with it. He was left with an almost vertiginous feeling of not quite knowing which way was up, as though the gravity had suddenly shifted.

But maybe tomorrow they could start to set it right.