Chapter 31
Alice
Alice punched in the code at the apartment and let Yuri in—the bearded guy had stayed in the van outside as a lookout. The coffee Carter had made her before they left sat on the table, a pale film on top. He was right—it had been a trap, only he was the one who’d been caught. Once again, she’d dragged him into trouble. And somehow she had to drag him out.
“Nika told me about a dead drop, which I wrote into an early draft,” she said, as she opened the laptop. “It was a shoe store belonging to a friend of the heroine. Her contacts at the Kremlin would leave things there with this friend, the shoe designer, and the heroine—well, Nika, I guess—would pick them up, on the ruse of taking her tourists there to shop. Nika made me delete it from the story. I tried to talk her into keeping it because it was a key device in our plot, but she was adamant it had to go. I guess she was protecting her friend in real life. Thank God I didn’t put it in after she died.”
“This is good,” Yuri said.
“Except that I have no idea what store it is, or where. How many shoe stores are there in Moscow? I remember Nika said this one also did repairs and polishing and key cutting, whichgave the informants excuses to regularly visit, but it’s still going to take time to track down. And what do we do—call them and say, ‘Hey, are you a traitor to your country?’”
“I know this store, this woman.”
“You do?”
“She is mutual friend. Nika and I would meet at her apartment, above the shop. Nika’s family… They would not like me for their daughter—her father is corrupt asshole, high up in government—so we had to meet in secret. I can send someone to check on her. Do you know, I first tracked down Nika because of her father? I thought I could manipulate her into being useful for our cause. But then I discover her views are same as mine. We connected. Anyway, that is history. So you have documents written in Russian?”
“Yes, here, see? There’s a mixture of Russian and English. These are the ones we haven’t looked at yet.”
“There are a lot of them. Let me look.” He pulled up a chair.
“We got a start on them but then I insisted we go to the hospital. Oh, I should have just gone on my own. I should have listened to Carter—he was suspicious and I told him?—”
“Do not start up with the regrets,” Yuri said, opening a document and scrolling down. “They won’t stop, and they won’t help.”
“Do you know of a couple called Tatiana and Yakov? Or Tania Garrett, and her husband, Jake? I don’t know if they have the same surname.”
“Ha. They do have same surname.”
“So you know of her? Tania Garrett?”
“My friend, the one who drove. He has history with her. She is sleeper agent, like he was once. Officially, she was born in Canada. Really, she is Russian illegal.”
“She’sRussian? I’ve met her. I’d swear she’s a hundred percent American.”
“More American than most Americans. That’s how it works. My friend—he is more Canadian than Canadians. They were married couple, officially. Recruited at university and sent to Canada, many years ago. Stole ID of dead children. Pretended to meet, fall in love, get married. Then emigrated to the U.S. Their job was to infiltrate American networks. Ivy League universities, politics, that kind of thing. But he wasn’t very good at it. She—she was good. When Jake Garrett became interested in her, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. Rich man. Connections. Open up access to many people for her. So she and my friend divorce, and she marries again.”
“Wow. Was it a real marriage, between her and your friend?”
“It was and it wasn’t. He was glad to be rid of her by end. She forced him to do something that destroyed his soul—I don’t even know what, he doesn’t talk about it, but you can see sometimes, in his eyes, in the way he drinks. He went underground—he didn’t have appetite to be spy. Well, notforRussia, anyway. He is good sign maker though. Real creative guy. So Tania Garrett, she is behind this?”
“Looks like it.”
“Ah. She is contributor to many, many campaigns for American politicians who are pro-Russian, or push for deeper trade relationship with Russia, or whatever. Who turn blind eye to Russian efforts to undermine democracy here. And she is lobbyist for businesses who think profit is more important than human rights. Which is most of them, yeah? Plenty of people in U.S. government think we should simply smooth things over with Russia. Be friends. Make money. Who cares? She is good at flattering them, influencing them, using them. None of this is illegal, but she operates very quietly—not someone you see on TV, or who gets photographed. We have looked into her many times, but we don’t have much power, there is nothing we can find.”
“Surely if you can prove she is an illegal immigrant…?”
“We rat on her, my friend gets caught too. And she would have good lawyers. He would be sent back to Russia, to face music. She would hide on tropical island or something.”
“She’s funding Randolph Jeffson’s congressional campaign. He’s ex-CIA, from the Moscow station. What would be in that for her?”
Yuri shrugged. “There will be deal. She supports him, he supports pro-Russia bill? Or she is blackmailing him—or plans to, once he’s elected. She plays long game, this one. It is not hard to blackmail someone who was CIA. Sometimes they did bad things. She will know something about him.”
“Was he involved in getting you out of Russia?”
“No. The CIA man who was murdered—he got me out. The man they say Nika and Carter killed. Carter was the one who warned me. Saved my life, even though he doesn’t know it.”
“Someone set them up.”
