Jet (4 page)

The police had been predictably worse than useless when he’d approached them with it, pointing out correctly that the woman captured on the film could have been anyone and that without hard evidence that she’d forced Anatoly to overdose on booze and pills, she could have been an innocent visitor – a hooker or a girlfriend being the likeliest.

Leo had explained until he was blue in the face that there was no way his brother, who was cautious and paranoid in the extreme, would have had a romantic dalliance at his home, especially with a pro; but the police, while listening politely and agreeing to investigate, had been clearly unimpressed with Leo’s conjecture, and after a year of lackluster effort, nothing had come of it.

But Leo was persistent, and when the locals hadn’t been able to discover a connection, he’d spent weeks ferreting through Anatoly’s cases until he’d discovered an encrypted file describing a murder contract he’d activated in retribution for the execution of a prominent young oligarch.

Leo had taken the file and his suspicions to Rudolf, one of his cronies in the successor agency of the Soviet KGB – the FSB – who also handled sensitive issues like security for him. Rudolf had agreed to exhaust every line of inquiry in exchange for a considerable sum. That had been months ago, and aside from making a large wire transfer and meeting with Rudolf every few weeks, there had been no progress.

Which was why Rudolf’s call this afternoon, suggesting they get together for an evening cocktail at a bar near Red Square, had come as a complete surprise. Usually it was Leo who summoned Rudolf, not the other way around.

Leo tightened his Hermès necktie and adjusted it, feeling the compact knot with satisfaction. He stood and glanced at his rose-gold Patek Philippe 3940 watch – a small luxury, but one he could more than afford with his legal practice and, more importantly, the profitable sideline he’d been operating for the last three years.

The office was quiet except for the tapping of keys from the outer chamber, where a phalanx of word processors toiled through the night, transcribing from tape. His secretary was long gone, having checked in before she’d departed to verify that he didn’t have any last-minute requests, leaving only Leo and the night manager, Vaslav, whose surly disposition was legendary among the night staff.

Leo shrugged on his tailored jacket and made a quick cell phone call to his driver as he strode from his office, briefcase in hand, his step the deliberate one of a man with weighty matters on his mind. Once comfortably ensconced in the rear seat of his black Maybach sedan, he allowed himself to relax on the ride to Red Square. The evening traffic was gridlocked, as usual, but made bearable by the comfortable cabin with its opaque bulletproof windows, the outside world held at bay by sound dampening and a custom-tuned suspension.

The driver coasted to a stop in front of the Russian landmark, and Leo climbed from the car. He looked around the square and smiled to himself at how much the city had changed in just a few short years. A decade ago he’d have never thought to go out in a public area like Red Square without at least two armed bodyguards in tow, but now he felt no menace in the swarm of pedestrians around him, the social climate no longer the one of constant danger and lawlessness that had followed the collapse of the Soviet state.

He moved along easily, his ear picking up at least four languages as he made his way to the bar, a popular after-work watering hole of the new money that Moscow was awash with. Neither he nor Rudolf would stand out in the packed lounge, the pair simply two more tired businessmen drowning their troubles in vodka.

The Bosco Bar was abuzz with inebriated conversation when Leo pushed through the saloon-style doors. Hip young metrosexual men mingled with stunning examples of Russian femininity, and Leo felt momentarily old, his great wealth only partial consolation for his loss of that most precious of commodities: youth. The sentiment was fleeting, though, as a vixen who could have graced the cover of
Vogue
gave him a long, appraising glance and toasted him with her half-empty martini glass. Leo allowed himself a small smile as he scanned the room, and returned the woman’s invitation with a raised eyebrow before moving to where Rudolf sat in a corner, nursing a drink in a tall, sweating glass with chunks of green floating in it.

Rudolf half stood when Leo arrived at the table and motioned for him to sit. Leo did and eyed Rudolf’s drink. Rudolf grinned and held the glass aloft.

“Mojito. The only worthwhile contribution from our struggling brothers in Cuba,” he explained.

“Ah. Of course.” A waiter appeared at his elbow and Leo ordered a pint of one of the German pilsners the proprietor imported each week.

When his drink arrived, Leo took an appreciative sip and waited for Rudolf to tell him why he’d wanted to meet. Rudolf led with small talk as he studied Leo over the rim of his glass.

“I saw that one young viper looking holes through you, my friend. Careful. Her bite looks like it might be lethal,” Rudolf said.

“She probably mistook me for her father,” Leo parried.

Rudolf took a long pull on his cocktail and set it down on the small circular table. “I have good news.”

Leo nodded and remained silent.

“The Americans contacted us.”

“The Americans?”

“Yes. It’s an odd world we live in. I put out feelers about our…project. They recognized the image I circulated.”

“Who is she?”

“They weren’t particularly forthcoming. My take is they don’t know, or they aren’t sure.”

“Then how does that help us?”

Rudolf shrugged. “Easy. They’re looking for her partner – a man. Apparently the two of them were spotted in Argentina. They know we have access to networks they don’t, so they proposed a deal.”

“A deal,” Leo repeated.

“Yes. We find them, they’ll help us take them, wherever they are in the world.”

“What’s in it for the Americans?”

“They get him. We get her.”

Leo sighed and took another sip of his beer. “That’s wonderful for international cooperation, but unless I’m missing something, that still leaves us looking for her, empty-handed.”

“True. Or rather, it would be if we hadn’t received a hit on the partner’s image.”

Leo straightened. “The partner?”

“Yes. There was a street protest in a downtown area, and he was apparently one of the bystanders who got caught in the congestion. The police filmed everyone involved and ran the faces through the system to see whether there were any suspect agitators. His got matched by our computers. It was pure, random chance – we got lucky. But that’s the only break we need.”

Leo’s voice quieted. “Where is he?”

“We’ve narrowed it to an address in Kosovo.”

“How?”

Rudolf lifted a brow. “We did it. That’s all that’s important. We just got the information this afternoon.”

“And the Americans?”

“We’ve alerted them.”

“I wish you hadn’t.”

It was Rudolf’s turn to sigh. “Our agency isn’t what it once was. Information is fungible – the Americans have many sources, including in Russia. If we don’t tell them in a timely manner, they’ll discover it eventually, and then they’ll reciprocate by holding out on us when we most need them to cooperate. We can’t afford that.”

“The more who know a secret, the less of a secret it is – I still wish you’d delayed telling them until you had a chance to run it by me.”

Rudolf’s face could have been carved from alabaster. “What’s done is done. I have other operational concerns I must deal with, so I made a judgment call. There was no other prudent way to proceed.”

Leo frowned. “Back to the woman. What of her?”

“We’ve got the local police involved.” Rudolf waved off Leo’s obvious alarm. “Don’t worry. Nothing active. They’ve been asked to watch the address and report back, nothing more.”

“Police? If they’re anything like ours, they’re bunglers.”

“Which is why we’re only asking them to watch the house.”

“How are you going to take over from them?”

“I’ve already got something in the works. Unfortunately, because this is an unsanctioned operation, I need to invent a pretense to have her taken into custody. But I’ve already done so, and by tomorrow we should be in position to move.”

“You aren’t sending in your own people?”

“Of course I am. But it’s not like the old days – we can’t just put a wet team on a private jet and do whatever we want. We have to tread lightly. Diplomacy must be observed.” Rudolf finished his drink. “Some of our neighbors are rather nervous, given our recent politically sensitive actions, so this must be handled delicately.”

“To be clear, you haven’t spotted
her
. Only this…partner?”

“Correct. But we’ll be notified the moment she shows her face.”

“What if they’re no longer working together?”

“I don’t deal in hypotheticals or speculation. We’ll maintain surveillance and see if she surfaces. Worst case, when the Americans take him, we’ll ensure he’s questioned about her.”

Leo drained his glass and set it down in front of him. “She killed my brother, Rudolf. I want her.”

“And you shall have her.” Rudolf cleared his throat. “She has eluded us for some time, but everybody makes mistakes eventually, and her partner is the key that will be her undoing.” He spread his hands before him. “A transfer tomorrow morning would be essential to lubricating cooperation in Kosovo. The locals there need to be paid, as well as those on my end who will have to approve an action. And then there’s the matter of the cost of extracting the woman from foreign soil…” Rudolf mentioned a number. Leo didn’t blink.

“Same account as always?” Leo asked softly.

“That will work.” Rudolf eyed Leo. “I will handle this personally. I’ve already prepared my office for the eventuality of my travel to Kosovo. Once funds are dispersed, we can move. I’ll leave nothing to chance.”

“I’ve paid a steep price already.”

“Yes, and those funds are the reason we are so close. Notify me when the transfer is made, and we’ll put the finishing touches in place.”

Leo contemplated his empty glass. “It would be a shame if anything went wrong, Rudolf. It’s a lot of money to put up without her having materialized yet.”

“Which is why I said I will attend to this myself. Your money won’t be wasted, I assure you.” Rudolf cleared his throat. “What about the other matter? The transaction for the weapons you mentioned a little while ago?”

“I’m still working on that. But if it comes to fruition, I’ll want you to handle security for a meet in Novorossiysk. Three parties – me, some Africans, and your American colleagues.”

Rudolf cocked an eyebrow. “An odd gathering.”

“As you know, we live in odd times.”

Leo explained the basics, and Rudolf nodded. “I see. You’ll probably want assistance with the customs people and with port security as well.”

“Exactly.”

“Just give me sufficient advance warning. I’ll put out feelers to see who needs to be bribed to look the other way.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Their business concluded, Rudolf stood and offered Leo a small wave before heading through the boisterous crowd to the door. Leo tossed a few rubles onto the table and rose. His eyes caught the young woman’s for an instant that time seemed to freeze, and then he smiled apologetically. She pushed past a pair of men and walked toward him with the lithe gait of a jungle cat. He checked the time and signaled to the waiter at the bar, and sat back down as she took the seat Rudolf had occupied, her cobalt eyes glittering as she set her now empty martini glass on the table.

“May I buy you a drink?” Leo asked in a playful tone.

She appraised him, seeming to like what she saw, and crossed legs that stretched to her chin. “A wonderful idea.” She held out a manicured hand and he took it. “I’m Nadia.”

Leo looked down at the smooth skin of her flawless arm and couldn’t suppress another smile.

“Of course you are.”

Pristina, Kosovo

“Hannah! Are you almost ready?” Jet’s voice echoed through the modest house as she called to her daughter from the kitchen. She finished preparing a sandwich and slid it into a plastic bag, and then added it with a packet of local crackers to a small nylon backpack.

“Yeth, Mama!” Hannah’s voice answered from upstairs.

Jet inspected the counter and wiped it down with a wet rag, surveying the surface with a critical eye. The perfectionism that had been drilled into her throughout her training and operational life manifested in many ways, most of them as irresistible as natural compulsions. They revealed themselves in the interior of the home, which was as neat and clean as the day it was built, every surface gleaming from her ministrations.

She carried the backpack into the small dining room, set it on the hardwood table, and returned to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Hannah appeared moments later, her hair in disarray, with a small red hairclip hanging from a clump to one side of her forehead and a brush in one hand. Jet and her daughter faced each other. Hannah pointed to the clip.

“It’s broke.”

“I see that. Come here. Let’s see if I can fix it.”

Jet took the brush and attended to Hannah’s mop, and then inserted the clip and snapped it shut. She stood back and inspected her, and after straightening her sweater, nodded approval. “There. All better. You look beautiful this morning.”

“Radiant as a little angel,” Matt chimed from the doorway. Jet looked up and caught his smiling eyes. “And hungry, if I know our Hannah.”

Hannah moved to the dining room table and Jet followed her out with a bowl of warm oatmeal – one of her favorite dishes, especially when mixed with brown sugar and cinnamon, as Jet well knew. Hannah made a show of stuffing her napkin in the front of her sweater collar, smoothed it out, and then clutched a spoon in her small fist like a treasured heirloom. Jet couldn’t help but beam at her.

“Go ahead. Eat up. Your ride will be here in a few minutes.”

Hannah dug in with relish as Matt slid behind Jet to the refrigerator and removed a bottle of orange juice. He’d taken to buying a roll and large cup of coffee at a café next door to the small shop he rented for his computer business, so he was low maintenance in the mornings, preferring to down a glass of fruit juice and be on his way. He gulped half the glass in two swallows.