Leo lay in a prone position in the trees. Snow filtered to the ground around him. He was aiming a three-foot directional mic shaped like a giant shuttlecock at the house.
“Anything?” he whispered to Maria. She lay next to him, tuning the amp.
“No,” she said. “Garbled voices. Hissing. I think some water’s on.”
They’d climbed down from a parking spot up the hill, having snaked up a narrow logging road. They had a downhill view on the side of the house, about fifty yards from the deck, in the dark of the tree line.
“That means tradecraft. Must be important. I’m going to try video.”
There was one window where they hadn’t drawn the blinds. Now and then Maria could see them pacing.
Speechreading had been part of her training as an SVR spy. If she could capture the exchange on high-res video, she thought she might be able to read their lips. Worst case, she could make a tape for expert analysis later. She pulled a long-lensed electronic device similar to a spotting scope from her bag and set it up on a tripod. She powered it up and ensured it was recording.
“Alpha Two, security check,” she said into her mic, turning the knobs to bring the cabin windows into focus.
“All clear,” Vasily answered.
He was stationed up at the vehicles to make sure a lookie-loo neighbor didn’t chance upon them. Since their position on this desolate mountain road would be hard to explain, Vasily had taken a nine-millimeter HK machine pistol from his bag, hiding it below a coat on the seat next to him. It was unlikely anything like that would be necessary, but this was a K1, a Krasniy Odin. Anything was authorized.
Meredith let John’s storm pass. There wasn’t much else she could do. His anger was certainly justified—and familiar. The same old rage that had split them up. Still, she had to get him back off the ledge. She had no choice.
He was standing now, his hands trembling. He stood before the window that looked out on Peoh, invisible now in the dark. He stared out into the falling snow, his elbows quivering. He shoved his hands into his pockets.
Meredith approached from behind and touched his shoulders gently. She turned him toward her and embraced him, burying her face into his flannel shirt, pulling him in tight. He smelled smoky, bourbon on his breath.
She held him there for a long time, silently, no other sound in the cabin beyond the crackling fire. His body shook softly against her. Eventually it slowed and stopped. She felt his arms encircle her back and squeeze. She thought she felt his shoulders rise and fall in a long breath, maybe even a muffled sob. None of this was right. None of it.
She pulled back and caught his eye. “Hey, John, it’s okay. It’s me. I agree with everything you’ve said. You know that.”
He breathed deeply again and let go. His eyes shone. She was glad now that he’d taken that drink. He seemed to gather himself and sat in a leather chair, near the fire. Meredith took the matching chair across from him. He nodded and stared into his glass, the booze gone, some ice remaining. He cleared his throat. Started to say something, then stopped.
“John,” she said. She spoke softly, quietly. “You’re the best man I know. Best man I’ve ever known. What they did to you was bullshit. You’ll get no argument from me.”
A nod.
“You deserve peace. You do. I’m going to ensure you have it. I can do that. That’s why I’m here personally.”
Another nod. He stared at the melting ice in his glass.
“But you have to understand, we’re at the end of our rope. All of us. You’re all we’ve got.”
“No, Meth. No.” His voice was ragged, hoarse. He kept staring into the glass. He cleared his throat again. “You can’t lay that kind of trip on me, man. Not after everything they did to me.”
She nodded and sat silently for a time. The fire hissed. The wind rattled. Snowflakes pelted the windows. She said, “Now that you know what we’re up against, what if we were to use it to get some justice for you?”
He shook his head. “Justice? Who are you kidding?”
“Hear me out. What if we—I mean, you—dictate terms back to the Agency?”
“Terms like what?”
“Like you’re fully reinstated with all honors. The inquiry would just go away.”
“I don’t need that,” he said. “I left because of my honor. Fuck them.”
“You do have your honor. You have more honor than anyone I know of. And it’s why you’re going to do this. We both know it.”
“Nope. I’m not. The Agency ruined that man. You know that too.”
“Bullshit. That man is indestructible.”
Maria had a good view of them now; Dale seemed to be looking out the window, almost right at her. “Got ’em,” she said into the mic. “I have a visual. Recording.”
Somewhere up the hill Vasily answered with two clicks. Leo said, “Still no audio here.”
“I’ve got eyes,” Maria said. “Keep trying.”
She watched the couple in the window, picking up a few words by lip-reading when she could. They embraced, and Maria thought she was going to witness a love scene. But then they came back apart and sat across from each other. She now had a perfect view of Dale’s face. He looked distraught, irrepressibly sad.
“Can you at least tell me why Cerberus trusts you? Any hints?” asked Meredith.
“No, not really.”
Meredith looked at him sympathetically. “I know you hate talking about this. I do. But you can at least give me context.”
He nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He seemed to pull himself together. He crossed his legs, set the glass on an end table. “I never met him. He was a good asset and we had him right where we needed him.”
“In research?”
“Yes, but he would never tell us where that really was. He was very, very careful.”
“What motivated him?”
“He never said. But it wasn’t money or religion. I also don’t think he had any particular affinity for America.”
“Then why spy for us?”
Dale stood up and returned to the fire, poking at it. He put a heavier log on. Sparks flew out and he tamped them dead with his boot.
“Few of the Iranians I met in Canada liked the US, even the ones who hate the mullahs. They blame CIA specifically for Ajax, the overthrow of Mossadeq. They blame us for keeping the shah on the throne while he crushed all opposition. They blame us for giving the shah exile when he was finally tossed out.” He returned to his seat. “But they also think that what they got after the shah was worse. I heard that a lot up there in Montreal.”
“Right,” she said. “Frying pan to fire.”
He nodded. “Before ’79, Iran was a country tilting toward modern Western values. The mullahs were the outliers, lowbrow hicks from Qom. A lot of the students I knew thought of themselves as true Persians, with a proud liberal tradition that wanted to save their country from the mullahs. I always figured Cerberus for one of these.”
“But to risk your life for it?” Meredith asked. “Has to be more than that.”
Dale sighed. “I suppose he saw himself as a bulwark against a mad country, a mad world. He didn’t share much, but that was my takeaway.” He looked up at her. “That’s what I got, Meth. That’s it. Sorry.”
“If you had to guess, why do you think he would stop?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s finally had it with the US. Maybe he’s worried about his security. Maybe he’s finally become one of them. You know as well as I do that the good assets are in it for ideology . . . or even better, their version of morality. Sometimes it shifts.”
“Sometimes it does.”
“Could be his family,” Dale said. “You know about the sick wife. There was a daughter too. I used to use that. She’d be about the same age as Grace now.”
They talked for another few minutes. Meredith kept her distance, quietly gleaning as much as she could. She looked at her watch. She had a red-eye in four hours. Dorsey wanted a briefing the next morning.
“I have to leave,” she announced.
Dale nodded, said nothing, stared at the fire.
Meredith realized he was hurt. “John, I’d consider staying. I didn’t mean to crush you with all of this. It’s just that I have to brief Dorsey personally tomorrow.”
“It’s okay. I remember how it is. Will you see Rance at your briefing?”
“Yup.”
“Tell Dorsey I might consider doing this if Rance is off the op. And make sure to say it when the dick is in the room.”
“I’m not going to tell him that.”
“Well, you know my answer, then.”
“Remember what I said about this being an opportunity for justice, John.”
“In that case, why don’t you go back and see what they’re willing to do? If this is the only thing keeping the Iranians from building the bomb, I’m thinking the offer is going to be pretty sweet. I could use my back pay and pension reinstated. Tell them to double up both.”
Meredith stood and gathered her things in her bag and glanced out the window. “All right, I will. Snow’s picking up. I need to get down that hill and back over the pass now or I’m never going to make my flight.”
Dale nodded. “Go, Meth, go. Do what you have to do.”
“I’m supposed to leave this with you.” She dropped a USB stick on his coffee table. “It’s encrypted. For OPSEC reasons, since you haven’t yet agreed, I’m going to wait to send you the password until I get back. The file is good for only another day or two. Then it deletes itself on access.” Meredith put an Android phone on the table. “I’m leaving this too. It’s secure. Please keep it on you so we can communicate about this. Okay? If nothing works out, we’ll send someone back for this stuff.”
“Yeah, I know the drill,” John said. “Save yourself the trouble and drop that shit in the fire.”
She went on, unruffled. “There’s also this.” She dug through her bag and produced Grace’s letter. “She wanted me to give it to you . . . to save time on the mail.” She laid it on the table. “Before you throw that USB in the fire, you should really think about Grace. Think about what the future means for her.”
Dale snorted. He picked up Grace’s letter and held it to the light, studying it. “Did you read this, Meth, or more likely have some Agency clowns write it?”
She ignored him. “John, I know this has been a lot. Please, for me, sleep on it . . . the whole thing. You probably have a couple of days to decide. Keep at least enough of an open mind that I can get back to you after my meeting with Dorsey. And keep that phone on you. I mean it.”
He nodded and stood. She hugged him for a long time. “I know you’re going to do the right thing,” she said at last, meeting his eye. “You’re the best man I know.”
She kissed his cheek, then made her way to the door and out to her car.
“She’s moving,” Maria said, watching through the high-res. “I’m going to come back up to follow in the Audi.”
Reading his lips, she’d seen Dale mention Rance. She also now knew it was an operation that involved an asset in Iran, which seemed to dominate their conversation. But she didn’t know why it pivoted around Dale.
Based on the records they’d hacked, she knew Meredith was flying back on a Delta red-eye out of SeaTac. Now she knew it was for a meeting with Dorsey and Rance. If she could get Rance back into bed the next night, she might be able to get something out of his phone. This was certainly hot enough to try.
“We know she’s going back to the airport,” Leo said next to her. “What’s it matter?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Maria barked. “You two need to stay here. She gave him something—looked like a USB and a document. We need both. Search the house for them. Bug it while you’re in there.” She repeated these instructions into the microphone.
Vasily replied over the radio, “How far are we authorized to take this? Can we eliminate him if necessary? I have the Chukavin.” The Chukavin was special forces’ newest sniper rifle, accurate for over a thousand yards.
Maria wasn’t sure what to answer, so she dodged the question. Her job was to collect intelligence. Probably best to keep the two Spetsnaz men focused on that.
“We need him to let his guard down. I need those documents and to know what he’s doing. That’s your mission. Clear?”
Two clicks came in reply.
About ninety minutes later, Maria pulled over in the cell phone waiting lot at the Seattle airport, some sixty miles away. Having watched Meredith return her rental car, she felt sure the CIA woman was well on her way to her scheduled flight.
In the dark confines of the Audi interior, she recovered her tablet, signed in, and uploaded the report on the activities of Meredith Morris-Dale and the knowledge of the suspected mole in Iran to Yasenevo. She included still photos, captured from the video, of John Dale’s face.
Then, switching gears, she retrieved her burner phone. Getting back into the mindset of Genevieve Lund, she sent a racy text message to Rance.