18
In Saint Paul, the Russian team found two fresh vehicles, a pickup and a minivan, parked where the Chevrolet had been. They were newer than the abandoned Chevrolet, and they appreciated the difference—they were not vehicles that would be viewed as “getaway cars.” The street person they’d seen freezing in the doorway was nowhere in sight. Nikitin, still struggling with his left leg, took the pickup for its extra-wide seat, Abramova the minivan, while Titov stayed with the red Ford.
They had spotted a small city in Wisconsin, Menomonie, fifty miles from downtown Saint Paul. Straight east on I-94, the town had several motels but was less than half the distance to the Iowa motels, while still being across a state line. They would check into three separate motels.
On this morning, Titov headed to the hospital in Minneapoliswhile Nikitin and Abramova went to find a place where they could park and wait, maybe for a long time, without being noticed.
• • •
Titov drove aroundthe Hennepin County Medical Center, scouting the layout. He’d done some research on the ’net, and once inside, was prepared to ask for the birth center, because he was a credible-looking new father, and that might be a credible destination. When he got to the hospital, he didn’t have to fake anything—the place was busy with people, nobody paid any attention to him, and he never got as far as the birth center.
Instead, he got on a nearly full elevator, and when a bunch of people got off, he got off with them. He was on an internal medicine floor, and he tagged along behind an elderly couple, close enough that somebody might think he was with them. When they peeled off at one of the rooms, he kept walking, then turned back and grabbed a down elevator and got off at the first floor down and wandered some more.
He saw cameras.
A half hour after he went in, he walked out to the red Ford and called Abramova. “Call Kuznetsov. The hospital is impossible. It’s a maze, and we would be trapped like rats.”
• • •
Abramova was parkedin a beige Toyota Sienna minivan outside the Minnesota Veterans Home on the south side of Minneapolis, near the airport. The lot was sprawling, full of cars, unlikely to attract police attention, and had good access to freeways going in alldirections. Nikitin parked facing her. When nobody was crossing the parking lot nearby, he walked over and climbed in Abramova’s van and lay down in the back.
“How was the drive?” she asked.
“Not good, not terrible,” he said. “I can drive. This Tylenol helps.”
“Good. Move over. I’m coming back.”
They lay on the back seat cushions, out of sight, and killed time reading their phones, waiting for Titov to call. They didn’t wait long: the hospital was impossible, and Abramova agreed to call Kuznetsov.
• • •
Kuznetsov answered onthe third ring; he was outside, Abramova could hear traffic sounds. She explained the situation: “We almost certainly couldn’t find him in the hospital, and if we could, we almost certainly couldn’t get past his protection. Our two options are to attempt to spot the FBI pickup when they move him to an airport, and ambush the vehicles. We think this is a low percentage play. There are too many hospital exits for us to cover, and the teams who are moving him, the marshals or the FBI, will not make the mistakes they made the last time. I would not be surprised if they sent vehicles to all the different hospital exits, making us guess which one has Sokolov, even if we could see them all. I expect they will now use armored vehicles.”
“We have time, but it’s hard to tell how much,” Kuznetsov said. “They have cleaned out Sokolov’s wound and sewn it up. Nothing hit his heart, but there was damage to chest muscles and lung damage. He is still unconscious, but improving. They will move him in the next day or two, and I believe it will be as you say.”
“We have the Novichok. We could drop it, if your asset is free to pick it up.”
Silence, five seconds, ten seconds. “I will have to consult. I will call back very soon. Are you safe where you are now?”
“We are operating from the cars. We will move to another state this evening, still close by.”
“Good. I will call.”
He was gone, and Abramova called Titov to pass the information. Kuznetsov called back an hour and a half later.
“In this hospital, this Hennepin, there is a men’s restroom on the first floor by the emergency room entrance. Our asset has used it. He says there is a paper towel dispenser on the left end of a row of sinks. If you can tape the ChapStick to the far back underside portion of the dispenser, he could get it there. He said not to tape it heavily. He needs to move fast.”
“Titov can do that.”
“Then if everything else you say is true…”
“It is…”
“This will be our best hope,” Kuznetsov said. “This has been personally approved by the man.”
“If you can, thank him for this opportunity,” Abramova said.
• • •
