I felt a chill scrape its way down my spine, and thought I’d made the wrong choice, until I saw Veles step out from behind one of the vents. I emptied the clip at him, and he managed one reflex trigger pull as he tumbled backwards off the gantry and fell to the floor behind a cooling unit.
I turned and lifted the secretary by his feet to relieve the pressure on his throat. I searched for the remote unit that controlled the winch, but it was probably on the gantry where Veles had been hiding. I didn’t think Carver would survive long enough for me to reach it, but I saw a stepladder behind one of the transformers, and ran over to grab it. Carver flailed behind me, and I knew I had to be quick.
I returned with the ladder, propped it open, and raced up the steps. There was a third gunshot in the distance, and more screams, but I ignored them as I climbed to the top of the ladder. I held the muzzle of the pistol against the taut cord that led up from Carver’s neck and pulled the trigger.
The bullet ripped through the cord, and the Secretary of Defense tumbled like a sack of stones. I jumped off the ladder and raced to him.
He was clawing at the noose, so I set down my pistol, and together we managed to pull the cord away from his throat.
He gasped a hideous, rasping lungful of air. His eyes widened with terror, and he tried to say something. All that came out was a throaty cry, but I knew it was a warning, and managed to duck and roll just in time to avoid the slash of Veles’ blade.
CHAPTER 114
I ROSE TO face the Russian assassin, and saw his suit and shirt had been shredded by bullets to reveal the protective vest he wore next to his skin.
He lunged at me with a ceramic black-handled blade, and I stepped aside and drove a fist into his face.
My heart was racing and my body crackled with adrenalin. This man had killed so many people, including my friend. Karl Parker might have been a spy, but I was convinced he’d been trying to make good. He hadn’t deserved to die, and neither had Leonid Boykov, another good man. The memories of these two fallen victims spurred me on, and I stepped forward and kneed Veles in the gut.
He lashed out with the blade, but I moved inside his swing, parried his forearm with my elbow, and hit him with an upper cut. As he staggered back, I delivered a devastating combination of jabs and crosses that sent him reeling. He held the blade in front of him, a defensive move, I thought, until I realized what it really was. I turned just in time, an instant before the blade shot from its handle, and instead of striking me in the neck, where he’d been aiming, Veles hit me in the shoulder.
The ballistic knife, favored by Russian Special Forces, buried itself deep in the fleshy muscle, but I was so amped on adrenalin, I scarcely registered the pain.
Veles reached behind him and produced another knife. He didn’t give me a moment to recover, but came at me like lightning. His left fist lashed out, and I ducked the punch, only to be confronted by the second knife darting toward my neck. I lurched back, but momentum carried me too far, and I stumbled. My feet hit each other, and Veles took advantage of my clumsy maneuver and kicked me in the chest. The blow winded me and sent me flying. I landed heavily on my back and didn’t even have time to roll before Veles leaped on me.
I thrust my hands up and instinctively grabbed his right wrist to stop him driving the knife into my neck. He punched me in the temple with his left, and I bit back a yelp of pain. My right hand whipped out to block another disorientating blow, and I grabbed him by the wrist. We were locked in a grim standoff, but I knew it couldn’t last. He was strong and full of hate, and had the advantages of a weapon and gravity. I saw the tip of the blade creeping toward my throat, and fought against the inevitable with all my strength. The sinews on his neck strained, and his eyes blazed with murderous hatred. The blade was millimeters away from my skin. I had to do something.
I went slack for a fraction of a second and the sudden lack of resistance threw off his balance, enabling me to direct the knife over instead of into my throat. I felt the blade kiss my Adam’s apple, and Veles fell across my body and hit the floor beside me. I rolled to one knee as he picked himself up into a crouch and leaped toward me. In one fluid move, I turned my body to avoid his strike, pulled the ballistic blade from my shoulder and drove it into the startled assassin’s neck.
He staggered back, clutching at the mortal wound. He made a terrible, wet choking sound and fell to his knees.
He couldn’t believe what had happened, and, for a moment, his expression was one of pure shock, until surprise was replaced by burning hatred. Then finally his eyes went blank, and he slumped forward, dead.
CHAPTER 115
“YOU’RE GOING TO be OK, Mr. Secretary,” I told the terrified, trembling man before setting off at a sprint for the control station.
Servers whizzed by, and moments later, I raced into the space to find Dinara pressing her pistol against Kavanagh’s head.
“You’ve got one last chance,” Dinara told her.
Kavanagh had bullet wounds in both knees and her shoulder, and she was whimpering, but offered nothing intelligible.
“Tell me how to deactivate the system, or you die,” Dinara said furiously.
“Dinara,” I tried gently, but she looked at me with the purest fury in her eyes.
Everything she’d lost, everything she’d been through, it was all focused on Kavanagh in that moment. The pressure to pull the trigger must have been almost irresistible.
“Dinara. Don’t,” I said.
I ran to the central console, which displayed a countdown. There were less than two minutes until the FORCE System came online.
“It’s no good, Dinara,” I said. “She’s prepared to die for what she believes in. Just like me. Just like you.”
Kavanagh eyed me defiantly.
“Give me her phone,” I said urgently.
Dinara hesitated, her eyes on her gun.
“Killing her won’t bring him back,” I told her.
I could feel the struggle within her as she fought the urge to kill Kavanagh, but after a moment that seemed like an age, my words reached her and she lowered the gun. Kavanagh slumped with relief. Dinara searched the Russian spy for her phone. She found it in Kavanagh’s jacket, and used the indignant woman’s thumb to unlock it.
“Here,” Dinara said, tossing me the device.
I was about to try a Hail Mary, but that’s where we were: out of options.
I dialed a number, and said a silent prayer as I heard a ring tone.
Come on, answer, I thought.
“Hello?” a familiar voice said.
“Maureen,” I responded with relief.
“Jack! What the heck is happening? One minute we’re in custody as enemies of the people, the next we’re told we can walk,” Mo-bot said.
“I don’t have time to explain,” I said. “I’m in the central control station of the FORCE Command Center and I need to know how to shut down the system before it goes online.”
“How long do we have?” Mo-bot asked, her voice coming alive with urgency.
“Ninety seconds,” I replied.
“Tell me what you can see,” she said.
“There’s a countdown on the central console,” I replied. “And beside it is a visual display of the satellite link-up. It’s showing the communication relays coming into alignment.”
“You need to activate a command window,” Mo-bot said. “Press control-alt-T.”
I did as instructed, and a black window appeared with a flashing cursor.
“I’m going to assume you’re through any security protocols,” Mo-bot said.
“Kavanagh had to get past them to activate the system,” I responded.
“Good,” Mo-bot remarked. “I want you to type GREP, leave a space, then type period EXE,” she said. “And then hit return.”
I punched in the command, and a list of programs populated the window. The countdown went through the sixty-second mark.
“What can you see?” Mo-bot asked.
“A
list of programs,” I replied.
“Those are the programs the network is currently running,” Mo-bot revealed. “This won’t be elegant, and it’s going to cause millions of dollars of damage, but needs must. I want you to type RM dash ALL.”
I did what she said, but I sensed sudden movement behind me, and was horrified to see Kavanagh force herself to her feet and wrestle the pistol from Dinara’s grasp
The Russian operative brandished the gun menacingly.
“Step away from the machine!”
CHAPTER 116
I HAD NO doubt Kavanagh would shoot me if I moved. The only thing keeping me alive was the possibility I might shut down the system with my dying breath if she took the shot while I was standing by the console. I stayed put as the countdown cycled through thirty seconds.
“Move!” Kavanagh yelled.
Dinara had been caught off guard by the injured woman’s speed and agility, but she quickly regrouped and knocked Kavanagh’s arm out of the way and moved in to tackle her.
“Jack, you have to stop this thing,” I heard Mo-bot say as I put the phone down on the console, but the program wasn’t my primary concern anymore. I had to help Dinara.
As the two women struggled for control of the gun, it went off, and a bullet tore through a nearby server rack. I ran toward the scuffle and grabbed hold of Kavanagh. Dinara punched her in the face, dazing her. I yanked the pistol out of Kavanagh’s hand and Dinara and I stepped clear of the formidable, vicious Russian agent.
‘Stop!’ I shouted, but Kavanagh came straight for me, so I pulled the trigger and shot her in the left leg.
She gave a guttural cry of anger as she went down.
“Here,” I said, tossing Dinara the pistol. “Keep her covered.”
Relentless and desperate, Kavanagh made another lunge for Dinara, and was rewarded with an angry smack across the face. Dinara hit her with the pistol again, and this time I shuddered at the sound of bone cracking. Kavanagh collapsed. She was out cold.
I ran back to the console and saw the countdown cycle through six seconds. I grabbed the phone.
“What do I do?” I asked hurriedly.
“Hit enter.”
I pressed the button and a prompt immediately appeared, asking if I was sure I wanted to delete all programs. I selected yes as the countdown reached three seconds. Nothing happened for a moment, and the countdown flipped to two, and then the console suddenly went blank, and every single machine in the gigantic room stopped working.
“What happened?” Mo-bot asked.
I stared at Dinara wide-eyed.
“We did it,” I told Mo-bot. “We did it!”
Mo-bot said something in reply, but I wasn’t listening. I suddenly became aware of the wound in my shoulder, as the tide of adrenalin receded. I felt myself sag with fatigue and relief.
Dinara took the phone from my hand and put it on the console. She put her arm around my waist, and supported me as we walked slowly toward the exit.
Neither of us said a word.
We were beyond them.
CHAPTER 117
THERE WAS SO much sadness in the room. Kevin Parker stood by the large window, watching the waves gently lapping the beach. Victoria Parker sat opposite me, but struggled to meet my gaze. I was in the grand library in the Parkers’ Long Island home, and had just presented them with two thick folders that contained Private’s findings in the investigation of the murder of Karl Parker.
“I know your world’s been turned upside down,” I said, “but you need to hold on to one thing: Karl was a good man, and he loved you both very much.”
My remark was greeted by silence.
“What was his real name?” Kevin asked finally. He didn’t look at me.
“We believe he was called John Kubu,” I replied. “At least, that’s what Russian government records show. It seems the SVR purchased him and the other children from orphanages around the world. According to the files they’ve released, your father came from Kenya.”
Kevin’s shoulders slumped, and I suspected he was crying. This wasn’t just about Karl Parker’s true identity, it also impacted who Kevin thought he was and where he believed he came from. His father’s secret had changed Kevin’s sense of his place in the world.
The worst of winter was over and, outside, the snow had melted and the garden was starting to show signs of spring. Inside, the house still seemed chilled by grief and trouble.
In the weeks following the showdown at Naval Air Station Fallon, the Russian government had been forced to disavow Yevgeny Salko as a rogue operator who instituted and ran the Bright Star program without proper authorization. He’d been arrested, and certain Bright Star files had been made public, largely to mollify American anger. The Russians had recalled twenty-two US citizens, who, they said, represented all that was left of the cadre of embedded Bright Star operatives. Yenen had told us that there could have been up to seventy-two Bright Star agents. There was no way of verifying whether the twenty-two business leaders, politicians, financiers and journalists were really all that was left of the sophisticated program.
Ann Kavanagh hadn’t been so lucky. Instead of being recalled, her attempt to subvert the FORCE System saw her brought up on charges of espionage, and once she’d recovered from her injuries, she faced life in federal prison.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done, Jack,” Victoria said, looking me in the eye for the first time. “You’ve made huge personal sacrifices and taken unimaginable risks to find justice for our family. We’ll never forget it.”
“I meant what I said,” I replied. “He was a good man. The people who sent him here brainwashed him, but his life, the people he met and loved here, they changed him, and when it came down to it, he couldn’t betray the country he’d come to regard as his home. In the end, he did the right thing in a way that guaranteed your safety. He clearly loved you both very much.”
Victoria lowered her head and fresh tears sprang to her eyes.
“Our assessment of the timeline leads us to believe that when Enterprise Web Services won the contract to run Silverlink International’s IT platform, Karl met Ann Kavanagh for the first time since they’d trained together in Russia. He figured out the FORCE System would be exposed through her, and invited me to New York to tell me the truth. Whether it was Maxim Yenen’s leaks or a report from Ann Kavanagh that she’d been recognized by Karl, we don’t know, but something triggered Salko to order the execution of every Bright Star operative in Kavanagh’s intake. Salko was protecting his most valuable asset. Thankfully, Karl had taken steps to leave me a trail of clues in the event of his death, something he must have known was a possibility when Robert Carlyle died. Your husband couldn’t reveal Kavanagh’s identity to the CIA or FBI in case they’d been infiltrated, and he couldn’t leave the information with you because it would have jeopardized your safety, so he involved me, someone he knew he could trust. What Karl did ultimately prevented a disaster of almost inconceivable proportions.”
There was an awkward silence, and Victoria smiled at me wanly. “It’s just going to take time for it all to sink in,” she said.
“I understand,” I replied, getting to my feet. “If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate.”
She nodded somberly. “Thanks, Jack.”
I showed myself out. Karl’s deception had troubled me deeply and it had taken me a while to forgive him. I could only imagine the impact the truth was having on his wife and son. It would take years for them to come to terms with it.
Ermilita, the housekeeper, walked me to the door, and I found Justine waiting beside the Nissan Rogue Private New York staff car.
“Ready?” she asked.
CHAPTER 118
“THEY DON’T HAND those out with fish,” Berdy Kotov said, gesturing at the medal on Dinara’s desk.
It was a Gold Star, which marked her out as a Hero of the Russian Federation, the highest honor available to a civilian. The President had presented it to her t
wo weeks ago, and she was still bewildered by her sudden change of fortune.
A few weeks previously, she’d been an enemy of the state, hunted by the instruments of government, and facing mortal danger at every turn. Now, she’d received Russia’s highest accolade, and she and Private had been exonerated and commended by the government for the role they’d played in exposing a rogue intelligence operation. Dinara wasn’t sure how rogue the operation had really been, but the government was certainly going to great lengths to rehabilitate Private, and business was booming as never before.
People like Kotov had flocked to the office with assignments. Kotov was convinced his lawyer was embezzling funds from his book-wholesaling business. Elena Kabova, the office administrator, had been run off her feet, fielding inquiries from business people, suspicious spouses, lawyers, accountants and wealthy Muscovites, and it was starting to feel like the large and varied client list of any other Private office.
“So, do you think you can take my case?” Kotov asked.
“What do you think, Dinara?” Feo remarked. “Can we take Berdy Kotov’s assignment?”
Kotov looked nervously at the big man, who’d offered to help out until Dinara could staff the office properly. She’d already hired a number of his associates from the Residence on short-term contracts to cope with the workload.
“We’d be happy to help,” Dinara said, rising from her desk.
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