The Last Deception

by DV Berkom, D. V. Berkom

  Lawrence frowned at the photograph. “The CIA tells me they picked up chatter implicating the Kremlin in the Vegas attack. The way it looks, both the Russian president and the prime minister are in league with Sakharov.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Leine said.

  Henderson shot her a warning glance.

  “Right now,” she continued, “the only thing I am sure of is that General Tsarev supplied arms to Tafiq. If Tsarev was looking for someone to take the fall for arming the terrorists, why not use Sakharov? The general already tried to blackmail him into delivering more shipments by abducting his daughter.”

  “And you have proof of this?” Secretary Miller asked.

  “I was part of the rescue operation.”

  “Misdirection,” Henderson interjected. “One of the general’s favorite tactics.”

  Leine nodded. “Exactly. If the general didn’t agree with the new Russian leadership on how they were running the country and wanted to start a war with the US to change course, it wouldn’t take much for him to push a rumor indicating Russia’s involvement in the sarin attack.”

  “Scott?” Lawrence looked at Henderson. “What’s your take on this?”

  “She has a point. We need to vet the source of the rumors. Have you been able to talk to Prime Minister Fedorov?”

  Lawrence shook his head in frustration. “The Kremlin cut off diplomatic relations two hours ago. Our direct line has been disconnected, and they recalled their ambassador. Blackwell is convinced that President Ivanov has been lying all along, and refuses to listen to reason.”

  “Give me twenty-four hours,” Leine urged. “I recently floated the idea to an associate of the general’s that I’ve got information vital to his current operation and am willing to part with it—for a price. If what Sakharov told me about the general is true, he’ll do anything to get that information. I’m convinced one of his operatives will make an approach soon. I believe he already has my hotel under surveillance. If I can get confirmation that Tsarev’s the driving force in this massive deception, that he’s been playing the president and the prime minister as well as Sakharov, will you take the information to President Blackwell?”

  Miller narrowed her gaze and asked, “You’ll wear a wire?”

  She shook her head. “That’s the first thing they’ll look for. Put me under surveillance. Then, once Tsarev’s people make contact, you can eavesdrop using whatever method you guys have perfected since the last time I worked for you.”

  “What’s in it for you?”

  Leine looked at him in disbelief. “You have to ask? How about avoiding a nuclear exchange, for starters?”

  The Vice President nodded. “Just checking. Apparently you’re still a patriot.” He rose from his chair, his expression grave. “You’ve got twenty-four hours.”

  Chapter 40

  Leine sat at the hotel lobby bar, nursing a drink. Several tables were occupied, some of which no doubt hosted Henderson’s surveillance teams. The couple over by the fireplace, perhaps. Maybe the three guys dressed in business suits four stools down, bitching about work. There were enough patrons for more than a few agents to hide in plain sight.

  She didn’t allow their presence to lull her into a false sense of security. So much could go wrong. Tsarev may have decided not to make an approach, believing the risk of what she knew was more acceptable than the risk of making contact. Or perhaps he was waiting to see what she’d do, whether she’d tip her hand by acknowledging someone in the bar, giving him the heads-up that a surveillance team had been put in place.

  Another possibility was that he’d decided she didn’t have additional information—that she’d used the bluff to buy herself more time. Dmitry had intended to torture her. Most people would try anything to avoid being tortured. The general wouldn’t risk getting caught if that were the case.

  Worst case scenario: he realized she was luring him into a trap. She’d need to counter his moves if he tried to eliminate Henderson’s operatives. She adjusted the silver comb she’d used to put her hair up. It was the one she’d purchased at the leather shop in Athens when she picked up the semiauto before the gala. At least she had access to a weapon, although the blade’s effectiveness against someone with a semiautomatic was questionable. The comb was more of an “up close and personal” remedy. She doubted she’d get close enough to Tsarev to slice through his jugular.

  If he’d even taken the bait.

  She checked her watch. 10:47. She’d been there since nine thirty, passing the time in conversation with one of the three men who had hit on her. He was cute in a lost puppy sort of way and at first was interesting to talk to, but the guy turned out to be married. Leine called bullshit on the sob story he used to try to play her and told him to go home to his wife. She felt sorry for the woman who had to put up with him, and was even more grateful than usual for not having to play the dating game.

  Henderson wanted her to remain at the bar until eleven, and then take the elevator to her room. He’d wired her phone and had tapped into hotel surveillance cameras in case Tsarev made his move outside the bar. Henderson had incorporated a small recording device with an on/off button in the belt buckle she now wore, allowing her to control the transmitter when the general’s men did a sweep. There was also a built-in homing beacon she was to activate as soon as she had confirmation of the general’s involvement. Leine didn’t plan on using either unless she was absolutely sure it was safe to do so. If the general had his people continually monitor for tracking devices and bugs and she turned it on they’d know she was wired.

  She swallowed the rest of her drink, left a tip for the bartender, and picked up her purse. When she turned to leave, the married guy appeared at her elbow.

  “What part of ‘go home to your wife’ do you not understand?” she asked, mildly annoyed. The man smiled and tightened his grip on her arm.

  Keeping his voice low, he said, “Come with me. The general would like to see you.”

  She let him lead her through the lobby and out the front doors into a waiting sedan. He dumped her purse on the seat between them and looked through the items. Picking up her phone, he opened the back and removed the SIM card and the battery. Then he reached under the seat in front of him and dragged out a black metal case, which he opened to reveal a bug detector.

  “Shoes.”

  Leine took off her pumps and handed both to him. He turned on the unit and waved the attached wand over them before handing them back.

  “Watch.”

  Leine gave him her watch. He waved the wand over it, then took out a small screwdriver, which he used to open the back. Not finding anything suspect inside, he returned it to her.

  “Belt.”

  Leine unbuckled her belt, slid it off, and handed it to him.

  Frowning at the monitor, he ran the wand over and around the buckle several times. Had he detected something? Henderson had assured her that the device transmitted no signal when it was turned off. He held the belt up to look more closely at the buckle, then set it down beside him as he fiddled with the controls on the detector. Apparently the unit began to respond properly, because he waved the wand over the buckle again. This time, he gave the accessory back to her. Leine exhaled quietly and slid the belt back on.

  He then tested the other items from her purse that were on the seat, and ran the wand over her. Satisfied she wasn’t wired, he turned off the equipment and stowed it under the seat. Then he shoved the contents of her purse back inside, and handed it over the seatback to the man in front.

  The driver executed several moves designed to lose anyone tailing the sedan. Leine wasn’t worried. Henderson’s agents wouldn’t have any trouble following her. In addition to the teams on the ground, Henderson was using a surveillance drone. Even if his people lost her, they’d still be able to track the sedan. She decided to take a chance on the wire and get things rolling. When her captor’s attention was diverted by something the driver said, s
he pressed the tiny concealed button, turning the recorder on.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  “I already told you—to the general.”

  “Yes, but where? I would have preferred somewhere out in the open.”

  He shook his head. “The general is not here for your convenience. You told Dmitry you wanted to trade information for money. We have been sent to find out if that information is credible.”

  Leine acted alarmed. “I told Dmitry that I would only speak to the general. If I don’t check in with my contact every hour, they will release the information and compromise the general’s operation.” She emphasized the last point. “It’s in his best interests to meet with me. I’m willing to give him this information for a price. If he wants his grand plan to work, then he needs to deal.”

  The man scowled as he pulled out his phone and tapped in a number. “Da,” he said into the mobile. “She will only speak with you,” he continued in Russian. “She says if she is not allowed to check in with her contact every hour the information will be released.” He waited, listening. “Understood.” He ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. He took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled forcefully.

  “He will meet with you.”

  Chapter 41

  Rural Virginia, US

  They drove out of DC and into the quiet Virginia countryside. Few lights dotted the landscape. The tranquil surroundings of the large horse farms and estates were in extreme contrast to the glare and manic pace of Washington. The bucolic region allowed people of means a stress-free environment in which to escape the daily grind.

  Miles from the nearest residence, the sedan pulled into a manicured driveway and stopped at a massive, gold-plated gate. The driver rolled his window down and turned toward the camera. There was a few-second delay before the gate opened. They continued down the long, well-lit gravel drive, coming to a stop outside a traditional white, two-story colonial with black shutters. Massive columns stood sentry along the wide veranda, giving the well-preserved mansion a stately, old-world air.

  The gold-plated gate seemed more in keeping with a Russian general’s style, although that was just conjecture on Leine’s part. The four of them exited the sedan, and they walked in through the front door. An elegant mahogany staircase swept up in two graceful curves from the main foyer to be joined at the second level by a carved handrail. Antique furniture and a large oval rug graced the foyer, while Civil War-era paintings of long-dead residents lined the walls.

  Definitely not the preferred style of any Russian general she’d ever met. Perhaps she’d underestimated Tsarev.

  “Ah. The elusive Leine Basso.” General Tsarev appeared at the head of the stairs on Leine’s left and started down to meet her. He wore a crisp, navy blue tailored suit and blood-red tie, the ensemble accentuated by a pair of gold cufflinks and a pinkie ring. His thinning brown hair had been combed back to reveal a high forehead, broad cheekbones, and thick lips undercut by a substantial set of jowls.

  “General,” Leine shook his outstretched hand. His grip was firm and dry, his gaze cold and calculating.

  Tsarev stepped back and indicated a room to her left. “Shall we?”

  “I need to check in with my associate first. One of your men has my phone and SIM card. May I have them back?”

  “Of course.” Tsarev turned to the man who had picked her up in the hotel bar. “Do you have Ms. Basso’s phone?” He nodded and fished in his pocket before handing the phone, the battery, and the card back to Leine.

  “Thank you.” She replaced the battery and inserted the card before texting a short message to a burner phone Henderson had set up. Then she handed the phone back to him.

  The general followed her through the open doorway into a formal study and closed the double doors behind him. More antiques filled the room, with a massive mahogany desk as the centerpiece. The hardwood floor had been polished to a high sheen and there wasn’t a speck of dust visible.

  He studied her with an appraising stare. “I will say your comments to Dmitry were somewhat alarming. That you have information you are willing to sell to me, possibly to the detriment of your country, tells me that you are a woman with few principles.”

  “That’s where you are wrong, General.” Leine sat in a nearby wingback chair and gave him a direct look. “I am highly principled. I disagree with my government and would like to see things change. Apparently, you and I share a kindred vision.”

  General Tsarev’s face betrayed no emotion although it looked like his respiration had increased. His florid complexion grew subtly redder as he moved to the chair across from her.

  “Then why require payment? Isn’t the possibility of a new world order enough?”

  Leine gave him a slow smile. “Really, General. You must know I’m nothing if not pragmatic. Money buys a lot of patriotism.”

  The general smiled back. “How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

  “You don’t. But as I said, I’m pragmatic. Surely your sources uncovered that personality trait. I sold Sakharov information he’d find useful—photographs of his diverted shipments, for instance.” She leaned back against the chair and smiled again. “The rest is only of interest to someone with your ambitions. Or the Central Intelligence Agency. It’s really your call, General.”

  Tsarev studied her in silence, his expression revealing only bland interest. Leine kept her own expression neutral so she wouldn’t betray the thoughts running through her mind. Did he believe her, or had he caught on to the ruse? The recording device in her belt was still on, but the general hadn’t yet implicated himself in anything. She was wary of prompting him. Anyone who had risen as high in Russian intelligence as he had would know when he was being played.

  “And what of this covert operation you mentioned to my associate?”

  Leine smiled. “An added incentive. I want you to get your money’s worth. Happy customers and all that.”

  Tsarev frowned at her joke. “If you are so interested in change, why did you help to rescue Anatoly Sakharov’s daughter? Surely you must have understood whoever instigated the abduction did so in order to further his or her plans.”

  Leine shrugged. “The money was good. And, if you look at the bigger picture, which I’m sure you have, you’ll realize I was merely playing my part. In the beginning Sakharov didn’t trust me. Now he does. I have no doubt his trust will serve me well in the future.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “But now he does not trust me.”

  “Exactly.”

  Tsarev narrowed his eyes. “You mean this was your plan all along?”

  “General Tsarev, if I may speak plainly?”

  The general nodded. “Of course.”

  She continued. “I’m an analyst for the CIA. The money’s laughable when you consider the information that comes across my desk every day. You are a very rich man, as is Sakharov. I decided that if I could get him to trust me that I might ultimately be able to work out a business relationship with you, too. I didn’t plan to make the two of you enemies. It just happened that way.” Leine crossed her legs. “I see the writing on the wall. Although still relatively strong, the United States military is stretched thin, while Russia is becoming a much more valuable player on the world stage. And, with current US leadership more interested in policing the world than securing her borders, my country is dealing with significant unrest from within.”

  General Tsarev’s expression still gave nothing away.

  She leaned forward in her chair for emphasis. “The world is at a pivotal point, General. With a little trust I believe that you and I can share what I would consider a very lucrative relationship, and at the same time shift the balance of the world’s power to Russia, a country better positioned to lead.”

  “And you’re willing to betray your country to help bring this about?”

  “You can’t betray something you don’t believe in.”

 
Tsarev rose from his chair. “I’ll let you know my decision within two days.”

  “Sorry, General. Once I walk out of this room, the offer no longer stands.” She stood so she could look him in the eye. “This is a once in a lifetime deal. I advise you to take it. There are several other entities that would be quite interested in what I have to offer.”

  General Tsarev considered her for a long moment. Had she overplayed her hand? She couldn’t tell by his expression. Leine searched his eyes for an indication of which way he was going to swing.

  He inhaled deeply and let it go, and sat back down in his chair. “I’m interested.”

  She did the same, using the movement to cover her relief. “Good. How would you like to do this?”

  “First, I must know what information you have.”

  “I can tell you it involves the sarin gas attack in Las Vegas.”

  “Oh? But I thought you knew. It’s been determined that Anatoly Sakharov is responsible.”

  It was make or break time. Again, she had to go with her gut regarding Sakharov. If he was in league with the general, then Leine’s ruse would be obvious. That could only end with one result, and it didn’t involve letting her live.

  “You must think I’m a fool.” Leine shook her head. “Really, General. Why must we dance around each other like this? If we’re to be business partners, I prefer direct communication. Anatoly Sakharov was not in any way responsible for the attack. That, my friend, was all your doing. I must say the operation went off flawlessly. I’m quite impressed with how you were able to play our agents so well. Obviously, your reputation is no myth.”

  Tsarev studied her for a long moment. Then something shifted in his eyes. “Forgive the ruse. I had to be certain of your veracity. The false intelligence was the easy part.”

  Leine’s heart beat faster. He’d just implicated himself in creating misinformation about the attack. She’d been correct in her assumption—flattery tended to be a fatal flaw in many a powerful man’s armor. But the implication wouldn’t be enough. The man was Russian intelligence. He created lies in his sleep. She had to get something more, something that would convince President Blackwell that he was behind everything.