The Outer Circle (The Counterpoint Trilogy Book 3) (19 page)

Los Angeles, USA

Jennifer dressed in khaki slacks, dark-blue sneakers, a green shirt, dark glasses and a wide-brimmed straw hat. Exactly what she wore a week ago when she went to the nursery on Venice Boulevard. Occasional gardening is the only luxury she allowed herself these days.
Exactly what the note said to do. They must have been watching me
.

Jeff was working from home. She kissed him with ‘Going to a nursery,’ got into their old small hybrid SUV and drove off. After heading north, she turned east on Venice and stayed in the right lane. About ten blocks before the nursery, she saw the Villa’s Tacos restaurant on her right. She pulled into the driveway, made her way to the back, and parked the car.
Why am I doing this? Because some stranger told me that he saw my father a few days before his death and that he had some important information? This could be a trap. Still, after eighteen years, why would anyone use my father’s name?

Jennifer took a deep breath, got out of the car without locking it and knocked on the door of a restroom just outside the restaurant. The door unlocked, she carefully walked in and came face-to-face with herself. Or almost herself: the woman standing across from her was of similar height and weight and dressed identically. The woman extended her hand:
“The keys?”

Jennifer handed over the car keys. The woman looked at her watch and said:

“You are being followed. After I come out, another woman will come in and lock the door. Don’t come out until it’s safe. I will continue to the nursery and pick out a few small plants, they’ll bring you there.”

With that, the woman slipped out the door. A noisy woman in a black shawl got in. She continued muttering in Spanish while motioning Jennifer to be quiet, wrapped the black shawl around Jennifer, then looked at her phone:

“OK, dear, the car that’s been following you is chasing after Isabella now.” After seeing Jennifer’s uncomprehending look, she said “That’s the name of the girl that was made to look like you. Go into the restaurant through the back door.”

As Jennifer walked into a dark restaurant, a waiter silently pointed to an alcove in the back. Three people waited for her there: Oleg, another man, and a woman. The other man looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, tall but stooped, tired face. The woman was younger, long blond hair, with a slightly Slavic face like Oleg’s. There was no food on the table, only four glasses of water.

“Jennifer, thank you for coming...” started Oleg.

“Who are you?” demanded Jennifer, ready to walk out.

“Yes, you’re right,” nodded Oleg. “We don’t have a lot of time so let’s get to it. Jennifer Rostin, please meet David Ferguson and Margarita Sappin.”

“Are you...” stammered Jennifer, spilling water from her glass.

“Yes, we are,” replied the woman.

“But you’re fugitives... everybody thinks you’re somewhere in South America...”

“We probably should be,” agreed Maggie. “But there is something extremely important that made us risk coming back here.”

“And you,” Jennifer turned to Oleg. “What is your role and what does it have to do with my father?”

“Oleg has been our friend and protector since we became involved with the Schulmann file,” David broke his silence. “We wanted to meet you because the information we have is important to you and your husband.”

“I have met your father,” confirmed Oleg. “As I told you, it was June 22
nd
, 2006. We were with the Mershov family: Konstantin, his son Ivan, and his grandson Vitaly.”

“Mershov?” Jennifer gasped.

“Yes, you know the name?”

“It was in my grandfather’s diary. Ivan Mershov was the
militzia
officer my grandfather worked for during the Leningrad blockade!”

“It must have been Konstantin’s father,” Oleg thought out loud. “Konstantin was the one who asked to go to the Piskariovskoye Cemetery to see your grandfather’s grave.”

Jennifer took a drink of water, tried to compose herself.

“Both my father and my grandfather died investigating something back in Russia. I don’t believe for a second that my father killed himself, but I was never able to find out who did it or why.”

Oleg looked at his watch, “I don’t know whether this is an accidental coincidence or not. But we have to get Jennifer to the nursery in the next fifteen minutes.”

Maggie reached across the table and took Jennifer’s hands into hers:

“Jennifer, back in 2022 we published parts of the Schulmann’s research. Now, David broke more of the data in the file and new names came up. One of them is John Dimon, your husband’s opponent in the race.”

Jennifer recoiled, “Even if true, it would be difficult to prove given what happened since... since your exposure. And I’m not sure what I can do with this. The wife of his opponent throwing out unproven allegations? That would probably only help him.”

“Please, call me Maggie. We thought that perhaps your grandfather could take this information to the president. Besides being one of the crisis’ profiteers, Dimon might be getting illegal financing from abroad.”

“My grandfather is 85. He retired from politics two years ago in disgust. He would never go back to Washington.”

Maggie squeezed Jennifer’s hands:

“Jennifer, one of the driving figures behind the 2019 crisis was GRU General Nikolai Nemzhov. He knew who profited and was using the information for blackmail. He disappeared in 2022, probably with billions of dollars. Nemzhov might be in a position to blackmail Dimon. It’s not only about the race. Please think of the implications. That’s why David and I risked everything to come back. Otherwise, Jonathan Schulmann and Suzy Yamamoto died in vain.”

“Yamamoto?”

“Yes, why?”

“At my father’s funeral, I was approached by two people that worked with him during his last days. Their names were Jack Mikulski and Suzy Yamamoto.”

“Suzy Yamamoto is the one who saved the Schulmann’s file that we found. She died four years ago,” said David. “She worked on Wall Street around 2006. It is probably the same person.”

Jennifer swallowed hard:

“I don’t if this is just a coincidence. My father didn’t believe in coincidences. Can you provide proof of Dimon’s involvement?”

“Yes!” David slammed his fist on the table. “Bank accounts, dates, amounts – I can get it to you.”

“You put it together, David,” Oleg got up. “I’ll get this information to Jennifer. But we must go to the nursery now. She’s being followed and we have to carefully make a switch.”

Moscow, Russia

“President Mosin, thank you for seeing me again on such short notice. I would like to follow up on the questions we discussed in the last meeting.”

“Ambassador Sheng, we are still evaluating your questions,” replied Mosin. “I and the Foreign Minister Karpov would like to better understand what’s behind your – how shall I put it? – somewhat extraordinary requests.”

Ambassador Sheng opened his palms in mock surprise:

“Mr. President, what do you find extraordinary about my government’s inquiries? We have a mutual defense pact and expanding global coordination of our military activities is a perfectly natural progress of our alliance. By the same token, giving us a guarantee of increased deliveries of oil and gas is also something we think we should be able to count on from our closest ally and trading partner.”

Mosin shook his head:

“Ambassador, you know perfectly well that sending oil and gas to you means redirecting it from Europe. We have never broken our energy delivery agreements. Between Russia and the Middle East, China is well supplied with oil and gas. Why do you suddenly need such a guarantee? And why the need to expand the military coordination? Ours is a defense pact – are you expecting an attack? Please don’t tell me about some vague ‘eventuality’ that you want to be prepared for.”

“Mr. President, may I remind you of recent history?” Sheng practically spat out his words. “Back in 2015, America tried to choke you: they crashed the price of oil, attacked your currency, imposed damaging sanctions. They blocked the pipelines you were trying to build in Europe. They helped to install the anti-Russian government in Kiev and supplied them with advanced weaponry. NATO’s military bases encircled you. It was our government that came to your aid. In our joint effort to undermine the U.S. dollar in 2019, it was China that provided the majority of the resources. We helped to restore Russia to the position of power that you are enjoying now. Without us, the Americans would have crushed you!”

“Mr. Ambassador, we are deeply grateful for the support you government had provided in the past,” protested Mosin. “But the kind of measures you are asking us to guarantee, they smell of potential war. We deserve to know the reasons for these requests. That’s what allies do.”

“Mr. President, I gather from your response that you are not ready to discuss expanded military cooperation or energy guarantees in case of emergency?”

“Mr. Ambassador, we have to better understand the reasons for your requests before we can address them,” Mosin spoke slowly and firmly, his eyes narrowed.

“Very well, Mr. President,” replied Sheng, getting up. “I will report your response to my government.”

After Sheng left, Mosin turned to Karpov, who’d been listening quietly:

“Volodya, what do you think?”

“You’ve seen the anti-American demonstrations all across China. They are preparing their people for war. And they want to drag us into it.”

“I don’t know,” Mosin shook his head. “They’ve done massive anti-Japanese, anti-American, even anti-Indian demonstrations in the past and those didn’t lead to war.”

“This one feels different. They have never come to us with such requests before. Remember the discussion that we had with Shelkov last month? I think Beijing’s
Politburo
may believe that now is the best time to strike. America is starting to recover from the 2019 crisis and subsequent political and economic turmoil while China is now struggling with aging demographics and high unemployment.”

“You may be right. All the more reason to remain non-committal,” nodded Mosin.

New York, USA

Robert Treadwell’s empire was “multi-platform.” He was an expert at hitting people with short, twenty words or less, soundbytes designed for the people whose attention span was less than ten seconds – which by now was a significant portion of the population. But
The Treadwell Report
was a weekly spectacle, an hourly show for the fans where The Man himself would show up in their living rooms as a three-dimensional projection and ruthlessly dissect whoever did not please him that week.

The selection of today’s victim was not a great surprise. For the past four months, Treadwell was an outspoken supporter of John Dimon and reserved his most biting, sarcastic remarks for Jeff Kron. But the depth of the scorn that Treadwell brought today was shocking even to his followers:
“For the past five years, we’ve been under relentless attack from our enemies! They have tried to destroy our currency! They have stolen our jobs! Now they are attacking our embassies!”

Behind the host, appeared a video of marchers in Beijing, shouting slogans and throwing air punches against the American embassy.

“What’s next? Military bases in Cuba or Mexico? Pointing missiles at our cities from a few miles away? And which of the candidates thinks this is just fine? Which of the candidates tells us to look inside, to blame America? I’ll tell you which one!”

Picture of Jeff Kron appeared on the screen, taken in one of his less presentable moments: looking puzzled, blinking behind his old-fashioned glasses. The audience booed on cue.

“It’s been well documented that the Chinese and the Russians planned this financial warfare against our country. That they wanted to destroy us, to break us apart! But this hippie, this nobody wants to blame us! If you are in a fight with a schoolyard bully, are you going to fight back like John Dimon is telling us to do? Or are you going to let him pummel you while saying to yourself ‘I have to look inside. I have not shared my lunch with the bully, so he’s justified in attacking me!’ Because that’s what Jeff Kron wants you to do. He wants you to go and blame yourself and kneel before the very enemies that are wishing us harm! And, of course, he has no experience running anything – he’s that hippie guru that preaches non-violence and peaceful resistance and all that crap. When you are under attack, you need a real resistance, not a peaceful one! He says we have no right to monitor people’s communication and movement. Well, we have to in order to root out our enemies! And we have to in the name of fairness, to make sure everyone does their fair share and pays taxes. I, for one, trust my government to protect me without questioning everything they do.”

Treadwell paused theatrically, looking at Jeff Kron’s unflattering image.

“Why do so many people follow this dangerous demagogue? Especially when you have a real American like John Dimon running? Now, I’m not calling for violence here, but whoever takes this character out will do the country a great service!”

“That was some show,” said the makeup specialist Norma as she was cleaning Treadwell’s face. “You really went after Kron.”

“Yeah, it may have been a bit overboard,” agreed Treadwell, now calm and composed. “But our ratings are starting to slip and I had to make some waves. Plus, most of my viewers are idiots with an attention span of a gnat. There is a reason they call my show ‘news porn.' I have to appeal to their emotions, grab them, scare them. That’s the way it works, you choose a few simple points and you keep repeating them over and over until they accept it as a God-given truth. Now they won’t even bother listening to what Kron is saying, they’ll be thinking how to get rid of him instead.”