Abramova called Titov,and filled him in. Titov said, “I need to go to a hardware store for double-sided tape. The ChapStick will be suspended under it, so it won’t fall on its own, and the asset will be able to grasp it instantly.”
“I wonder if the asset will survive. I can’t believe that the FBI would let many people get close to the target,” Abramova said.
“That is no longer our problem,” Titov said. “Your problem is that you need to get the ChapStick to me. My problem is that I have to get in and out of the hospital again.”
They agreed that Titov would get the supplies from a Home Depot, then drive to the Veterans Home parking lot to meet with the others. After the transfer, Abramova would drive to a parking spot close to the hospital, in case Titov needed an emergency pickup. Nikitin would remain at the Veterans Home, where he would wait until Titov had dropped the ChapStick, then trail Titov and Abramova to Wisconsin.
Titov found a Home Depot not far from the Minneapolis downtown and bought a box of thin plastic painter’s gloves and a pad of double-sided stickers meant to mount small objects to walls. At the Veterans Home, he slipped into the back of the minivan with Abramova; Nikitin had moved back to his truck. The ChapStick was tightly sealed inside a small plastic box—so tightly that Abramova couldn’t open it with her short fingernails and had to use her switchblade to pry it open. That done, she carefully lifted out the ChapStick, which looked ordinary enough.
“Gloves,” Titov said.
They put on the gloves. Abramova picked up the small tube, and then, hesitating a few seconds, she turned it in her hands and said, “It looks like nothing.”
“Made by devils,” Titov said.
Abramova said, “Must be done,” and she twisted off the cap. That took some effort: the cap didn’t come off easily. When it was off, Titov held one of the unused plastic gloves open at the wrist, and Abramova began twisting the dial at the bottom of the tube, pushing the ChapStick out of the tube. She had ejected a little more than an inch of thewaxy stuff into the open glove when the black glass separator appeared.
“We are there,” Titov said, quietly. “Careful now, hold tight, I will lift the seal.”
The seal had a tab sticking up from the top, not more than a half-inch long. He gripped it as tightly as he could and lifted the seal off.
Below it, in what looked like more waxy ChapStick, they could see a pink dot. “That’s it,” Abramova breathed.
Titov said, “Don’t move, let me…” He carefully dropped the seal into the glove they were using for the ChapStick disposal, then tied the glove off. He set it aside and picked up the top of the ChapStick tube.
“Push up a little more,” Titov said.
Abramova twisted the dial at the bottom of the tube, lifting the contents up an eighth of an inch above the rim of the tube, and Titov fitted the cap back on top. He fished another glove out of the box of gloves, dropped the tube inside, and tied the glove at the wrist.
They both sat back and exhaled. “I think we are okay,” Abramova said.
“I believe so.” They both looked at the two gloves sitting on the minivan seat. “You should call Kuznetsov, tell him we are ready to place the ChapStick. We need to know when his asset will be ready to pick it up.”
• • •
Kuznetsov didn’t havea precise time, but it would be sometime after three o’clock, but before five. Titov looked at his watch: “Not much time. I’ve got to hurry.”
“Your sticky tape?”
“Got it.”
“Good luck.” Abramova reached out and patted him on the hand.
• • •
And it wentlike the recon.
Titov walked into the hospital, found an empty booth in the men’s room, put on a plastic glove, took the ChapStick out of the glove where he’d carried it, and put an inch-long piece of double-sided tape on the ChapStick tube.
Somebody had followed him into the restroom, and he could hear a man shuffling around by the urinals. Then another man came in and took the booth next to his. There was a splash of water and the sound of paper being pulled out of a towel dispenser. He waited until he heard the outer door open, and the shuffling of feet stopped.
When he was sure the other man was gone, and the man in the next booth was still occupied, he flushed the toilet, listened, then stepped out into the room, walked to the sink and, in three seconds, stuck the tube to the bottom of the paper towel dispenser. He threw the plastic gloves in the trash and felt a sudden and urgent need to pee.
He did and got out of the hospital.
• • •
About an hourlater, Bernie followed a bored FBI agent into the restroom. The agent looked around, saw that the room was empty, and said, “I’ll be outside.”
