by Tim Tigner
“An electromagnetic pulse detonated within Korovin’s helicopter and obliterated all the electronics in the blink of an eye — propulsion, navigation, and communication.”
Jamison shook his head in disbelief. “I haven’t heard a word about it.”
“I suspect the Russians are trying to piece together what happened. As far as his staff at Seaside knew, he was being rushed to the hospital. Kremlin staff knew nothing about it. I’m sure it took time before either group figured out that he was missing.”
Jamison nodded along. “They’d keep that information very close to the vest until the details were cleared up and a succession plan was put in place. Knowing that’s their predilection, the media speculates that Korovin’s dead and a coverup is underway every time he drops out of view for more than a few days.”
“This time they’ll be right.”
“So what’s your prediction?”
“I’m sure they’ve started a very quiet search. But as you saw, his helicopter’s not going to be an easy find.” Max began counting out points on his fingers. “His destination leaving Seaside was unknown, the black box is fried, the location is remote, and the actual flight path is nearly 200 miles long. Eventually some debris will wash up and they’ll backtrack it to the presidential helicopter, but I doubt it will be anytime soon.”
Jamison looked toward the phone. “It’s time I called the president.”
Max raised a finger. “If I may make a suggestion?”
“Go ahead.”
“Tell him about Korovin, but leave out Sunset. Achilles is busy wrapping that up.”
“I thought he was rescuing Katya?”
“The two are linked. Show a bit of faith, and you’ll be able to present President Silver a fait accompli tomorrow. Complete with spin and everything.”
Jamison shook his head. “I can’t withhold information vital to national security from the president.”
“You can if giving him that information would create additional national security issues.”
Jamison gave Max a sideways glance. “I don’t follow.”
“Maintaining the president’s health is an issue of national security. You’ll already be red-lining his blood pressure when you tell him that control over half the world’s foreign nuclear arsenal is about to change hands. If you pile on concern about an imminent domestic terror attack, an attack that would dwarf 9/11, he’s likely to stroke out. And there’s another, even more serious national security concern.”
“What’s that?”
“The main objective at this point has to be keeping Sunset quiet, thereby avoiding the crippling mass panic that would undoubtedly ensue if word got out. Can we agree on that?”
Jamison rocked his head back and forth a few times. “I guess. Assuming you’re 100% certain regarding its operational status. What’s your point?”
“My point is this: If the president learns about Sunset while it’s still an active operation, a lot more people are going to end up in the know. Most likely across multiple agencies. The odds of a leak will grow beyond any reasonable hope of containment. You’ll end up with a nation gripped by mass hysteria. The subsequent accusations and investigations instigated by rival politicians will consume the remainder of Silver’s administration. Telling him is against his best interests — and those of national security. Better to avoid all that and allow the president to enjoy plausible deniability in case the plan does eventually leak.”
Jamison paused a few beats before replying. “What did you mean earlier, when you said the package you’d present would be ‘complete with spin’?”
Max felt hope ignite in his chest. He’d gotten Jamison onto the fence. “When a story is contained, you can control the timing and context in which it’s released. As a diplomat, you certainly appreciate the tremendous tactical value that control provides. Achilles has developed a plan that will make Operation Sunset work in America’s favor, but he has to cue it up first. Give him twenty-four hours to do so, Ambassador. He’ll come through. It’s what he does.”
Chapter 119
Yippee!
Seattle, Washington
ACHILLES’ PRAYER had been answered. The tracking pellet was still transmitting. He knew where to find Katya! With that one bit of information in his possession, Achilles knew there wasn’t a force on earth that could keep him from rescuing her. It was only a matter of time — and a little planning.
When the jet door opened on the Seattle-Tacoma tarmac, Achilles caught sight of Zoya waiting for him beside a rental car far more modest than anything else at the private jet terminal. As he ran across the pavement and into her embrace, an onslaught of mixed emotions flooded his cortex. Regardless of where they’d started, the fire of combat had formed strong bonds between them, bonds that wouldn’t wash away with time.
A second-and-a-half of sentiment was all the delay Achilles could abide. He pulled back from the hug and launched into business. “Were you able to buy the supplies I asked for?”
Zoya nodded, her expression as muddled as his feelings. “It’s all in the trunk. I wasn’t sure about the wetsuit sizing, so I bought three.”
“Attagirl!”
Achilles transferred everything to the back seat, and followed it in. “Try and get to within a mile of their location. Someplace you can park near the water.”
“Way ahead of you,” Zoya replied. “There’s a roadside picnic area on the bank about half a mile from where Wang weighed anchor for the night.”
Sixty-seven minutes later, having dressed and packed for the assault, and set up Wang’s $20 million payment, Achilles waded into the waveless water. A Sea Scooter diver propulsion system hung from his left hand, eighteen pounds of battery and propeller, while a waterproof pack clung to the small of his back, holding the good stuff.
He checked his watch: 22:18. With half a mile to cover and a three mile per hour propulsion speed, it would take him ten minutes to reach the Winsome Whisper. He added a couple minutes for contingency, and said. “Initiate the Bitcoin transfer at 22:30.”
Zoya checked her own watch. “Twelve minutes. Will do.” She wore a brave face but looked a lot more nervous than he felt. “Good luck, Achilles.”
“No worries. She’ll be fine.”
Achilles slid the rest of the way into the water, brought his right hand to the Sea Scooter’s handle, and squeezed the trigger. With a quiet hum, he began torpedoing through the dark water that separated him from the woman he loved. The experience brought back one of his worst memories and feelings he’d worked hard to forget. How long had it been since he’d clung to the back of that submerging sub? Better not to think about it.
Achilles hadn’t wanted to be burdened with scuba equipment, so he was swimming like a dolphin, coming up for air as necessary. It was dark, so he figured the odds of being spotted were slim-to-none. The water was chilling even in a wetsuit. He shivered at the thought of what Katya had gone through.
He took one last big breath and submersed for the final stretch of the journey.
All was still quiet when he cut the Sea Scooter’s motor and drifted up to the surface just behind Wang’s boat. Checking his watch, he found himself with three minutes to spare. He grabbed hold of the swimming platform and released the Sea Scooter. While it sank, he studied the Winsome Whisper’s architecture, and began a mental rehearsal of his next moves.
Achilles hadn’t met Wang, but from what Max and Zoya had told him, the Chinese spy was a normal guy. Given that, Achilles expected the arrival of $20 million to initiate a chain reaction, a cascade of emotional outbursts and physical reactions known in espionage circles as a distraction.
Satisfied with the choreography he’d composed to move from the water to the interior cabins with minimal disturbance, he took another glance at his watch. No sooner had he raised the luminescent dial than “Ta ma de! Wo zhong le!” met his ears. The Mandarin version of Yippee! if he wasn’t mistaken.
Chapter 120
Payback
&nbs
p; Seattle, Washington
WANG WAS ECSTATIC. He’d done it! He’d recognized an opportunity, and he’d played it just right. He’d danced the fine line between boldness and foolishness while navigating a labyrinth of nuance and misdirection, and he’d come out on the far side with a yacht and $20 million in the bank.
He’d earned his freedom.
The way things were going, Qi might even come around and blossom back into the flower she’d been before her father’s downfall. And if she didn’t, well…
Still pounding the air in victory, he turned around to face his captive. Her calm expression had morphed to something far more fearful, and he felt his heart drop. “It’s all right,” he said. “The money came through. You get to go home.”
Her expression softened. “You’re really going to let me go?”
“Of course. I’m no killer. I’ve never shot anyone.” As Wang gestured toward the SIG MPX submachine gun lying on the dining table, an explosion of pain erupted from his left thigh and he fell to the deck. His hands flew to the source of the searing pain, where they too turned red even as the gunshot registered on his ears.
“You’ll be alright,” a deep voice boomed from behind, reverting his attention to the external environment. “That is, if I don’t shoot you again.”
Wang pressed down on both ends of the gunshot wound, but craned his head around to see a big man in a black wetsuit pointing a Glock at the center of his face.
“Are you okay, Katya?” the man asked, his eyes still locked on Wang’s.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “I was only worried for a second, right after the payment came through.”
“He didn’t hurt you? In any way?” The man’s eyes narrowed as he spoke.
“No. He’s been a gentleman, Achilles. And I’ve been fine. I knew you’d come.”
Wang hoped the man was as much a believer in karma as he was. The nickname by which Katya had called him wasn’t particularly encouraging.
“Toss Wang a pillowcase so he can bandage his wound,” Achilles said to Katya. “Then come over here behind me.”
Wang wasn’t sure what to make of this twist of fate, but he was glad to have the opportunity to tend to his leg. He’d always wondered what it felt like to be shot. Now he knew. It stung like the sting from a six-foot scorpion. His fingers, now slick and red, quickly found both entry and exit wounds. Each was bleeding, but not profusely, and there was no bone in between. A clean through-and-through. A disabling shot. Tactically, a smart move — with a bit of payback mixed in.
While Wang cinched the pillowcase around his wounds, Achilles asked, “Where are your weapons?”
Wang didn’t look up. “It’s on the table.”
“And your backup piece?”
“None.”
“Don’t play games. You play, you lose.” The booming voice left no room for doubt. Just give me an excuse was written large between the lines.
Wang weighed his predicament. Achilles’ actions made it clear that he was a clever man who would err on the side of caution. Wang decided to play it straight. “There’s a subcompact between the cushions of the dining table bench.”
Achilles didn’t divert his gaze. “When I search the boat, am I going to find any other weapons?”
“No.”
“Swear on your life?”
Wang finished with the bandage and met his captor’s eye. “Come to think of it, there’s a flash-bang taped under the dining table. And a spear gun in the bow gear box. Obviously knives here and there. Oh, and a second subcompact under the pillow in the master stateroom.”
Achilles grabbed one of the dining chairs and set it beside Wang. Then he pulled him up onto it with his left hand. Wang winced, but managed not to scream. The adrenaline was going to work.
“Hands behind your back,” Achilles commanded.
Wang complied. He then sat still as Achilles zip-tied his hands to the latticework with quick precision.
Apparently satisfied, Achilles retrieved the Ruger from between the cushions and the flash-bang from beneath the table. He chambered a round in the Ruger and handed it to Katya who accepted it with a familiarity Wang wouldn’t have anticipated. Next, Achilles made the flash-bang disappear into a fanny pack, from which he proceeded to extract a bagged cell phone.
Powering it on with a satisfied smile, he passed it to Katya and spoke without taking his eyes off Wang. “Speed dial 1 for Zoya. Let her know we’re fine.”
While Katya made the call, Wang studied his captor. He looked like a Super Bowl quarterback. Big, strong, and serious, with determined, intelligent eyes and hands that looked like they could crack walnuts. Wang had no idea what those hands had in store for him, and he wasn’t particularly eager to find out.
Chapter 121
Just One Thing
Seattle, Washington
ACHILLES SLID onto the bench directly across from where Wang was bound. Aside from Wang’s incapacitated hands and Achilles’ Glock, they looked quite civilized seated there over a mug of tea and a half-eaten sleeve of Fig Newtons. Achilles sat silent until Katya was off the phone, at which point he accepted it back and she slid in beside him. Turning to her he said, “I’m going to ask you again because I need to be certain. It’s very important. He really didn’t hurt you? Not in any way?”
“No. He just locked me in a stateroom and left me alone. I’m fine.”
Achilles turned back to Wang. His expression suddenly much softer, he delivered the first of three big reveals. “I’m here to make a video. A documentary — in which you’re going to be the star. In that video, you’re going to tell me how you and your colleagues manufactured and installed the autopilot system overrides. You’re going to tell it to me again and again, until we get it right. A complete confession. Once you’ve got it perfect, you’re going to repeat it in Chinese. As you speak, a colleague of mine will be verifying the accuracy of your translation.”
Wang found himself nodding tentative agreement. After a few seconds of rapid processing, he verbalized it. “Okay.”
“Once we’re satisfied,” Achilles continued, “you sail off.”
Wang wasn’t sure he believed his ears. “I sail off?”
“To someplace sunny,” Achilles added with a wink.
Wang wanted to believe him. His read of the body language told him he could believe him. But Wang had been at this game too long to take anything at face value, especially anything that seemed too good to be true. But he didn’t want to risk insulting the man who held his fate in his hands, so instead he decided to probe. “And my money?”
Achilles’ features lightened even further. “Yours to keep.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’ll figure it out.” He paused, apparently expecting Wang to do just that — right then, right there.
Wang put his mind to it. The modified autopilot units would be removed immediately, so the hijacking could never happen. The government would cloak the entire affair under the deepest, darkest, tightest national security classification. So why did they want his confession? It came to him like a thunderclap, and Achilles’ expression said he saw it in Wang’s eyes. “You’ve got a big bargaining chip with Beijing.”
Achilles nodded.
“But, in fact, Beijing knows nothing about this operation.”
Achilles shrugged.
Wang understood. It didn’t matter. Politics revolved around perception, not reality. Of course, if and when the American government played that card in some big back room negotiation, Wang would become the most hunted man on the planet.
But he was already planning on disappearing.
He was already expecting them to look for him. One didn’t just walk away from the Chinese Ministry of State Security. When he failed to return from vacation, the BOLO would go out. That had always been inevitable. Faking your death wasn’t an option when you also needed your family to disappear. “Very clever. But it’s the Russians you should be going after.”
Achilles
returned a stare so steely it turned Wang’s throat dry.
Wang got the message and moved to change the subject. “There’s nothing else I have to do?”
“Just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t ever get caught.”
Chapter 122
Arrest
Washington D.C.
REGGIE SAT in stunned silence while the White House Chief of Staff personally delivered the news that sweet Mrs. Pettygrove, his landlady and surrogate mother, was actually a Russian spy. It was the worst news of his life — until seconds later when Sparkman revealed that she’d been able to eavesdrop on everything Reggie had heard while wearing his wingtips. Every foray into the Oval Office, every ride in The Beast, every trip on Air Force One. It was a staggering blow to a man who would sooner walk out the window of the Washington Monument than betray the person he loved and respected more than any other.
During Sparkman’s verbal horse whipping, Reggie came to understand that the only reason he wasn’t in hot water legally was that the scenario made everyone from the president to the Secret Service to the FBI to the CIA look bad. There wasn’t going to be any legal hot water. The whole Pettygrove affair would never be entered into any record. With President Korovin gone and Ignaty Filippov “vanished” to some secret CIA cell that would never see the light of day, there wasn’t much to clean up, other than Pettygrove herself.
Of course, the Pentagon, CIA, and State Department would be busy for months, if not years, updating their plans and processes to account for Russia having inside information, but much of that was assumed anyway and accounted for through routine procedural rotation. Or at least, that’s what the few politicians in the know chose to tell themselves.