by J. K. Kelly
“You’re trying to figure out who the hell hit you last night, aren’t ya?” Terry asked.
“Sure am,” he responded. “And I’m thinking I should give up drinking too. I haven’t been in Moscow in a few years and didn’t leave anyone knocked up or pissed off at me, as far as I can recall.”
“You should have used an alias at the airport,” Hadden interjected. “Apparently, you’re on someone’s radar. They’re sending a message, letting all of us know they are aware of you. That’s why I don’t think they’ll bother you again, at least until you start making waves, if that’s on your agenda.”
“I was told that my being here was hush-hush and unofficial, so I didn’t think it would be an issue,” Matt said and then realized he was talking more than normal to these strangers. They were indeed U.S. Marines, assigned to protect the ambassador and the Embassy, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have their own agendas. Matt knew the ambassador most certainly did at this point.
“Did anyone get a fix on a license plate from their car? I know we have eyes here.”
Hadden looked at the driver and then back at Matt. “Moscow Police, that’s what we were told.”
“Okay, so who called them off? They were taking me somewhere. I heard the driver arguing with someone when they pulled the car over. They were waved off.”
Neither Marine offered an answer. For another few minutes, the three just watched the cars and trucks flow slowly through the busy morning traffic.
“You okay for this meeting?” Terry asked. “Want to schedule it for later today? He’d understand after the assault.”
Matt considered the suggestion. He wasn’t feeling one hundred percent. Maybe it was a concussion. What had happened last night was uncharacteristic of his normal contracts and of his way of doing business.
“No, let’s keep with the plan,” he said, locking eyes with the driver in the rearview mirror. Matt went quiet for a moment and then summed it up for them. “I’m good,” he said with a smile. The deep breaths he snuck in helped him clear his head.
“I’ve always stayed at the Palace. I used to get a kick out of the red wallpaper and curtains in the rooms, but they’ve remodeled since I was here last. It used to make me feel like I was in the old communist Mother Russia, which I always found intriguing for some reason.” The escorts listened as they continued to watch the traffic around them. “So, what do you know of me, and who do you think those two were last night?”
Hadden turned in his seat to look at Matt.“We figure you’re either a spook or a fixer,” he said, and then turned his attention forward again.
“Or maybe some combination of the two,” Terry added. “Whatever you are, the ambassador is going to need both to get him out of the mess he’s gotten himself into.”
“Bingo,” Matt whispered. He could tell from Terry’s tone of voice that these two, or at least the Texan, knew the ambassador had gotten himself into a pickle and that he cared for him. That information, and this person, might be of help in the coming hours and days.
“So neither of you know who the two thugs were that bashed my skull last night?”
“Not sure,” Hadden responded. “I would have thought they were FSB, just trying to send you, and the rest of us, a message. But you said whatever they had planned must have been called off for some reason, and they turned around abruptly.”
“It’s a just a big chess game,” Terry added, “and we’re the pawns on the board.” Matt sat back in his seat and began to replay the information the two CIA briefers had expressed back at Langley.
Minutes later, the SUV stopped at the rear gate to the Embassy. A uniformed Marine guard acknowledged Hadden and Terry, and reached in the now-open window, gesturing for Matt’s credentials. The guard returned the diplomatic passport and gave a thumbs-up to his counterpart in the bulletproof and bombproof security guardhouse. The massive security bollards were lowered into the ground so the vehicle could pass.
This was Matt’s first-ever visit to this facility. He had walked past the front entrance on one of his walkabouts years ago and had admired the classic Russian architecture. The rear entrance was in stark contrast, though. Aside from the high walls, armed guards, and clusters of CCTV cameras as far as the eye could see, there was nothing special about the place. Once inside and through metal detectors, sniffers, and another round of credential inspection, Hadden led Matt to the ambassador’s private study on the third floor. Terry had simply disappeared, perhaps heading back to the SUV for another assignment. In the elevator, Matt took a shot.
“So what do you know about this whole cluster he’s gotten himself into?” he asked.
“Above my pay grade, sir,” Hadden responded formally.
Matt sensed that now they were inside the walls of the facility, closer to the man who was a personal friend of the president of the United States and the Marine’s commander in chief, the New Englander’s demeanor had snapped to attention. Perhaps they could get together later with Terry at the Marriott to drink and let Matt gather whatever additional intel the two might be willing to surrender under more relaxed circumstances.
Outside the ambassador’s study, Hadden introduced Matt to an Embassy staffer who advised them that Wilkerson was running late but should be with him shortly.
“Coffee?” Matt said with a smile and a begging tone while he shook Hadden’s hand and thanked him. “Was that ride a round trip?”
“We’re with you until you’re back on a plane headed home, sir,” Hadden responded.
Matt was still waiting, now impatiently, when the door suddenly opened, and United States Ambassador Russell Wilkerson, the former governor of Texas, walked out and greeted his American visitor. He was as big and boisterous as the Lone Star state he’d come from. His slumping posture and tired expression telegraphed this man had his hands full. They expressed very cordial greetings while the people he had been meeting with left the room. Matt followed Wilkerson inside as an aide closed the door behind them, leaving the two men to get down to business.
“Tell me what you know, son,” Wilkerson requested as he gestured for Matt to take a seat in front of a massive mahogany desk. Wilkerson looked at some of the papers on his desk, sat down in a red leather chair, and then looked up at Matt, giving him an ‘okay, get on with it’ expression of impatience on his face.
Okay, Matt thought to himself, let’s get it on.
“May I be frank?” Matt asked in a respectful tone.
“You can be anybody you care to be, young man, but get going.”
Okay, here goes, Matt thought to himself.
“In a nutshell, if my briefing was concise, you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, Mr. Ambassador. I was told that there is a pregnant Russian citizen who was employed here and is claiming you are the father of her child. I was also told your son has come forward saying he is the father. So far, so good?”
Wilkerson just stared at Matt, who took a sip from the coffee mug he had carried in with him. Well, you wanted candor, so you got it, big boy.
“The employee is related to some very powerful people, someone high up in the Russian military. She – they – are using this to blackmail you. They have not asked you to do anything against the United States; they just want a confession and an apology, along with two hundred and fifty grand in U.S. dollars. And they want you to resign and leave their country forever.”
“Anything else?” the ambassador asked.
“Yes, Mr. Ambassador, in order for this to work, in order for me to do my job, we have to have total candor and honesty between us.”
“Agreed,” he responded, but Matt noticed the slight flinch in Wilkerson’s left eye, something the ambassador acknowledged immediately.
“I’ve worked with operators like you before, Mr. Christopher. To have made it to this room, with me, you no doubt know all my tells.”
Matt smiled.
“I don’t play poker, and I’ve never been able to overcome that twitch. I will be totally hone
st with you as long as we are talking in private and confidentially. That was my ‘Oh crap, I’ve got to tell the truth wince,’ the liar’s tell is when I cough.”
Matt smiled again. “Deal. So let’s keep going. I was told you have a mistress, Anika, a Russian woman they are holding. I was also told they won’t release her until all their demands have been met. It’s clear they want to embarrass you and, consequently, the president and our country.”
“Okay, that’s the real problem,” Wilkerson admitted. “I’m told you’re one of our country’s best exports, so how do you fix this?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The ambassador’s office at the Embassy in Moscow had hosted its share of conversations and top secret meetings over the years that had helped keep two superpowers, Russia and the United States, from destroying each other. Matt’s job here, operating on hostile soil, was to broker a deal to keep another type of peace.
Matt stared back at the ambassador. He had seen men like this before. Politically and financially powerful, strong egos, and very well connected, who had let their dicks get them in trouble only to get a fixer who’d pay someone off and make an indiscretion go away. Heck, Matt was related to a few of those same powerful people – about as many as he had made enemies with.
“Well sir, the trouble is that we don’t know who is making the demands. Because of this, we have no guarantees that if we are able to negotiate our way out of this, the bad guys will keep their word.” Matt continued. “This is real-world, high-stakes, mob boss stuff. And there’s a very good chance somebody’s going to get dumped in the river before this is all over. I’ve dealt with the Russian mob a few times in the past, and it never ended clean.”
Wilkerson nodded his head, pushed back from his desk, and walked to the window overlooking the busy boulevard in front of the Embassy. Matt gave him a few minutes to process what they were discussing.
He cleared his throat and turned to face his fixer. “I know the smart thing to do is to pack up and get out of this damn country. Hell, I’ve got enough money to settle on an island in the Caribbean and forget politics forever.” He paused. “But I cannot let down the president. I won’t embarrass him or the United States, no matter what.”
“And Anika, what about her?”
“They won’t hurt her, at least I don’t think they will. They think I need her, but I don’t. She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, but she’s a plaything, not a career killer. As long as we get Misha out of the way, they can try to embarrass me with Anika, but it’s just her word against mine if it comes to that.”
“So if they send you a video of Anika being tortured, would that change your mind?” Wilkerson didn’t respond. He walked back to his desk and sat back against the front of it, dropping his head and shaking it slowly from side to side.
“Does Mrs. Wilkerson know about Anika?” Matt asked, watching the ambassador closely.
“We’ve never discussed her specifically, but I’m sure she knows there is someone. However, she’s no angel either, as you will find out at some point.” Matt looked around the massive office. Photos of the president and past ambassadors stared back at him from every wall.
“I also want to verify something with you, Mr. Ambassador,” he said. “Can you tell me why the secretary of state isn’t involved with this one?”
The ambassador laughed.
“Politics, plain and simple, my boy. That prick didn’t want the president to give me this position. He campaigned against it. Remember, he’s from Texas, too, and we’ve had a feud going that goes back decades.”
Matt understood. This wasn’t anything new.
“So I’ll ask you again,” the ambassador said, turning to Matt, “how do you fix this?”
“Well, typically, I’d try to get some dirt on the people making the demands and turn that against them. But again, this isn’t LA or D.C., this is Moscow.”
Wilkerson raised his eyes, wanting more.
“If there’s no dirt, then we find his enemies. In the military, any military, there’s always someone who’s taken a boot in the butt or been passed over or double-crossed in a quest for power. We need to find that person or persons.”
“Keep going.”
“We can also try to find the mistress and grab her,” Matt continued. “Everyone has a price, so if she’s being held by a few knuckleheads who would be happy to get a bag of money and a private jet ride to somewhere like Tahiti, that might be on the table. How much are you willing to spend, if I might ask?”
Wilkerson’s facial complexion changed. He was angry, and Matt saw the red face rise in an instant.
“Why would I spend anything, the CIA has an unlimited budget!”
I wonder what would happen if I threw this asshole into the Moscow River myself? Matt thought to himself, smiling as he enjoyed the image. This guy’s got a dirty dick, and he expects the taxpayers to bail him out of it?
“Did I say something funny?” Wilkerson asked.
“No, ambassador,” Matt responded. “I was just imagining my pleasure with throwing someone into the river, if I can ever get my hands on him.” Matt sighed and reluctantly let go of the fantasy. “There are two things I need to know before I put a plan into action.”
“Yes?”
“First, I will need to talk to your son and your wife separately.”
“My son, no problem, but why my wife? She knows I didn’t have anything to do with that girl Misha, but she is unaware they have additional leverage on me.”
“You’d be surprised, Mr. Ambassador,” Matt answered. “There are women who know their men cheat, and there are those who are okay with it and those who aren’t. But there are also those who do something about it. I need to know where she is on this. We can try to buy or scheme your way out of this, but if she’s not on board one hundred percent, then that’s a contingency I have to build into the battle plan.”
A knock at the door interrupted Wilkerson’s train of thought, and that seemed to make him angry. When the offender opened the door and stepped in, his mood quickly changed.
“So this is the miracle man come to save us from the hostiles,” Mrs. Wilkerson said as she walked across the room and extended her hand to Matt.
He quickly stood and noticed the aide closing the door.
“Sarah Wilkerson,” she said softly as they shook hands. Sarah Sinclair Wilkerson was a Texan through and through. She was smart, confident, and tough as nails. Matt knew she had family money from oil rights in South Texas and had been a beautiful Dallas Cowboys cheerleader.
He’s cheating on her? Matt thought to himself as the two spent a few minutes talking about the weather, the opulence they found in a city where so many went without, and how happy they both were to have been born in America instead of in Russia or some barren, third-world country.
Moscow was a tale of two cities; the impoverished citizenry that lacked jobs, decent healthcare, freedom of speech and lived under an oppressive former leader of the KGB. The affluent element of the city were actually affluent on steroids. Money was flowing, lots of money, as evidenced by the uber high-end shopping district and an annual event that catered to the richest of the rich that only millionaires could attend. For the majority, Russia was still in the shadows of the old Soviet Union. For the rest, it was a whole new world.
“Whenever I hear complaints back home,” Matt offered, “I always say at least you weren’t born with flies in your eyes.”
“Sit down, sit down!” she insisted and waited until both men had made themselves comfortable again before she began to give her husband a hard time.
“What kind of host are you, Russell?” she admonished him. “This young man has come all the way from Washington to help our Raymond with little Misha, and there’s not even a damn tray of cookies laid out for him!”
Without seeming to think about it twice, she walked to Matt, stood behind him, and put her hands on the back of his head, then started to pick through his hair. He was start
led, almost embarrassed by her touch, and locked eyes with the ambassador, who was also taken by surprise at her behavior.
“Now, let’s see what kind of work that hotel doctor did on you,” Sarah continued. “Oh, that’s nothing, dearie, I’ve had worse just falling off a horse.” She patted him on both shoulders but left her hands there. The ambassador gave her a look, but her touch remained just long enough to irritate him further.
“All right, all right, Russell,” she groaned. “I know that look. I’m coming on a little strong and fast.” She walked over to his desk and smiled at her husband. “But you didn’t mind that the night we first met, now, did you?”
Wilkerson smiled back. “She’s shot out of a cannon, isn’t she?” he said with a laugh.
“So, Mr. Fix-It,” she said. “How long does something like this usually take to wrap up?”
Matt smiled politely. Nothing like being regarded as a handyman, he thought.
“Most of the work I’ve done over the last twelve months, for example, has taken one to three days at the most.” He thought for a moment. “This case, however, might take a bit longer. Normally there’s one moving part of a problem, but we’re facing quite a few issues. And working in Russia is a bit different than troubleshooting in France, Australia, or the U.S. This is the first time I’ve received stitches my first night in town.”
The ambassador and his wife looked to each other and nodded their approval. If this man was as good as they had been told, they were prepared to place their problem in his capable hands.
“If I may,” Matt suggested, “I think, going forward, we need to make my appearance here seem as though I’m with the diplomatic service and we go way back as family friends, here to catch up after all these years. Can the two of you run with that?”
“Makes sense,” the ambassador responded. “The only people who know who you really are, at least the only ones we’ve told, are the two Marines who drove you here this morning. I trust them with my life.”
“Then you should move into Spaso House with us,” Sarah demanded. “It’s our official residence, not far from here at all. It’s something else. Close friends always stay there with us. You’ll be safer and have our assets, America’s assets, at your disposal.” Thinking of the rough first night he’d had, and the six stitches to prove it, he took about five seconds to agree to her plan. Dale was right. This was going to be a very dangerous assignment, but living in the same house with them would make his job much easier, he hoped.