Spy Thriller: To Russia for Love: An Espionage and Pulp Fiction Political Thriller

by Kenneth Eade

  To Russia, for Love

  Kenneth Eade

  OTHER BOOKS BY KENNETH EADE

  Brent Marks Legal Thriller Series

  A Patriot’s Act

  Predatory Kill

  HOA Wire

  Espionage fiction

  An Involuntary Spy

  Non-fiction

  Bless the Bees: The Pending Extinction of our Pollinators and What You Can Do to Stop It

  A, Bee, See: Who are our Pollinators and Why are They in Trouble?

  For my Dad,

  Gordon Eade,

  Who guided my way

  Until I could take care of myself

  There is no monopoly on common sense,

  On either side of the political fence,

  We share the same biology,

  Regardless of ideology.

  Believe me when I say to you,

  I hope the Russians love their children too.

  – Sting

  CHAPTER ONE

  Seth Rogan woke up with a feeling that something was wrong this morning. In fact, he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed every morning for the past ten days, since his girlfriend, Natalia Andropova (nicknamed Natasha) had not been in it. It had been very comfortable in this Hawaiian paradise as long as she had been here, but now she was gone and the room seemed empty – home was not home anymore.

  Natasha’s boss had called and had sent her on a special assignment. That boss was none other than Vladimir Putin, arguably the most, or second most, powerful man in the world. Natasha served as an undercover agent for the Russian Federal Security Service, the FSB – the successor to the old KGB.

  Seth had woken up in a foul mood every day since she had left, and for the first time since he had settled in this island paradise, he was bored. It didn’t make sense. Who could be bored with a beautiful house on the Kona Coast of the Big Island of Hawaii? He had his biological research to keep him busy, and he talked to her on the phone every day. Still it was not the same.

  Since she had left, the first order of business was the telephone, something that Seth normally found to be a nuisance. Natasha was in Moscow presently, which was 14 hours ahead of Hawaii, so hers was the voice that Seth woke up to every morning and the one that put him to bed.

  Seth looked at the clock. 9:30 already. That’s odd, by now she should have called. Five minutes later, the phone rang. He rolled over and grabbed the phone.

  “Hey baby.”

  “Mr. Rogan?” It was a strange male voice that Seth did not recognize.

  “Yes?”

  The man spoke in a thick Russian accent. “My name is Ivan Petrenko. Have you received a call today from Natalia Andropova?”

  “No, I thought this call would be from her. Who are you?”

  “I am with police in Kiev. I’m sorry to tell you sir, but she is missing.”

  “Missing?” Seth’s heart surged as if it would jump out of his throat. “What are you talking about?”

  “Someone has put out an anonymous missing persons report. We are looking for her.”

  Seth was in a panic. He could not think. He got up from his bed and paced the floor.

  “But Natasha’s supposed to be in Moscow.”

  “She arrived in Kiev two weeks ago. She was to attend agricultural conference.”

  “I know, I know, I was going to the same conference. But the conference was in Moscow. Why was she in Kiev?”

  “I don’t know sir. You were listed as her closest contact. That is why I called you.”

  “I’ll be on the next plane. How do I reach you?”

  Seth frantically wrote down the information, fired up his laptop and booked a ticket to Kiev. It was over 21 hours of flying with layovers in San Francisco and Munich – 21 hours more that Natasha would be missing and every second of that would count.

  CHAPTER TWO

  On the way to the airport, Seth’s mind was racing. Was she still alive? The feeling of helplessness was paralyzing, but, once he got on the ground in Kiev, hopefully that situation would change for the better.

  Natasha had invited Seth to give a talk at an international agricultural conference on genetically engineered foods. Contrary to the United States, Russia had enacted legislation requiring GMO labeling and safety testing. There was a ban on the import of genetically engineered foods and they would not be introduced into the environment unless and until significant studies had been completed in the future.

  Seth was called to the conference as an expert on GMOs. As a biologist who had worked for Germinat, the largest biotech company in the world, he had discovered a lot of information during his tenure at the company which had convinced him that the current technologies were not safe at all, and the absence of any safety testing by the FDA was undeniably negligent in his opinion.

  Ukraine had similar legislation but, even in the face of that, Germinat had established offices there, had invested $140 million in a non-GMO seed plant, and was in the midst of a “social development program” which offered rural Ukrainians up to $25,000 in grants to provide educational opportunities, community empowerment and small business development. The company had also purchased large amounts of farm land in Ukraine, known for its rich soil and agricultural importance as Europe’s “bread basket.” Seth knew that his former employer had no interest in the social development of Ukraine or in producing non-GMO seeds. It was a chemical company, whose strategy in seed development was to develop seeds for crops that would resist its famous pesticide, Cleanup, or, as in the project Seth had worked on for the company, crops that generated their own pesticides.

  Thoughts of Natasha nagged at Seth as he studied reports he had downloaded from the Internet. For the past six months they had spent their days in the endless summer of the islands of Hawaii, exploring each hidden waterfall and deserted beach. During that time, their budding romance which had started when they had met in Russia had bloomed into a full blown relationship, and Seth’s single days no longer had a place in his memory. It was as if he was another person then, and as though Natasha had always been in his life.

  The reports Seth reviewed indicated that Ukraine had entered into an agreement with the European Union, which paved the way for $17 billion in aid from the International Monetary Fund. This agreement contained a little known clause about the development of biotechnology which committed Ukraine to cooperate to “extend the use of biotechnologies.” It may as well have said that Ukraine would agree to allow the production of genetically engineered foods.

  Seth was not an investigator, but had, more or less, been forced into that role when he had worked for Germinat. During that experience, he had developed a full blown “secret agent” toolset, not out of desire as much as out of necessity. Those skills helped him, at first, to steal crucial records from his employer which exposed the dangers of their genetically engineered foods, and later those same skills saved his life.

  The United States had put $5 billion into the opposition that ousted President Yanukovych from office and forced him to flee to Russia, and had planted their own into key business and government positions in Ukraine after the election of the new president, Petro Poreshenko, who, Seth learned, had been an informant for the United States since 2006. In April 2014, Vice President Joe Biden’s son, Hunter Biden, and Devon Archer, a close friend of Secretary of State John Kerry, had been appointed to the board of directors of Ukraine’s largest natural gas producer. The U.S. State Department’s Natalie Jaresko had also been transplanted into the Ukrainian government as their Finance Minister
, and was granted Ukrainian citizenship on the day of her appointment.

  As Seth looked at all the pieces, Natasha’s disappearance began to make sense. He didn’t know what her undercover assignment had been, but, if it was in Ukraine, it had to have something to do with the current unrest going on there. And she wasn’t just missing-she was in real danger.

  Seth looked at his cell phone. At 3 am he had received a cryptic text message from Natasha. I wonder why it didn’t wake me up? The message read: I am the Captive Knight.

  What did it mean?

  CHAPTER THREE

  After passing through customs and border control, Seth saw, on his right, a man holding a sign with the name “Rogan.” He was about 28, nicely dressed in a conservative suit, and appeared to be Russian. To his left, two American-looking businessmen, conservatively dressed in suits in different shades of grey stood with another man who appeared to be their driver. They made eye contact with him, and he understood that they were also waiting for him. A tinge of panic tingled his cerebral cortex as he recalled the last greeting he had had in this country, which was not so welcoming. Hopefully this one would be less dramatic. One of the men in the suits approached him.

  “Mr. Rogan?” he asked, in a perfect American accent.

  Seth ignored him and approached the driver holding the sign.

  “Hello, Mr. Rogan,” said the driver, in a strong Russian accent. “I am Victor Godinov from Russian Embassy. I have instructions from Ambassador to bring you safely to embassy.”

  Seth looked over his shoulder. The two suits were watching them. He shook Godinov’s hand, and Godinov took his small carry-on suitcase.

  “Nice to meet you, Godinov.”

  “For me too, sir. We should probably hurry.”

  Seth matched Godinov’s quick pace, as they exited the arrivals area with the two suits and their driver not far behind.

  At curbside, a black Mercedes 600 pulled up.

  “This is our car, sir, please…”

  Seth got in, and looked behind him to see the two suits also getting into a black Mercedes land cruiser. As the 600 pulled out and accelerated, the land cruiser followed. But, just after the 600 took off, an old blue Volga pulled out into the lane blocking the land cruiser’s pursuit. The Volga puffed out a large plume of black smoke as it stalled in the middle of the lane. Seth could hear the horn of the land cruiser blazing as he looked through the rear window.

  “We made sure this time your airport transfer would be more comfortable,” said Victor. Seth could see by now that Victor was obviously an FSB agent. It wasn’t long before the black Mercedes was securely behind the gates of the Russian Embassy.

  ***

  Seth sat in the familiar waiting room, which looked like a museum, with its classic oil paintings, richly wallpapered walls and antique French furniture. He looked at his cell phone to see if there were any emails from Natasha or the police, but there was no signal.

  “It won’t work here,” said Victor, as he entered the waiting room. “Secure area. We will give you Wi-Fi code to use.”

  “Thank you.”

  The door to the Ambassador’s office opened and they were beckoned in by a beautiful blonde girl. The Ambassador rose to greet them, extending his hand, which Seth took in his.

  “Ambassador Petrov, it’s good to see again you, sir.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Rogan, but I’m afraid that this time is a little more dangerous than the last.”

  “Hard to imagine that, sir,” said Seth, as he and Victor sat down in front of the Ambassador’s desk.

  “Mr. Rogan, Victor here is one of our best men. He is in charge of the investigation for Miss Andropova, and he will give you a full briefing on what we know, and what we don’t know.”

  “Thank you both,” said Seth.

  “But you must let us handle this,” said the Ambassador. "You don’t know this country and, as you probably have realized by now, the CIA already knows you are here. It is not safe for you.”

  “With all due respect, sir, I have been in these situations before, and…”

  “You are in over head here,” interrupted Godinov.

  “Victor, please,” said the Ambassador. “Let me explain. Since the coup that ousted President Yanukovych, things have been on a heightened alert here and in Russia. There is an escalating civil war that the current Government of the United States wants nothing more than to blame on Russia to advance the business interests of their own oligarchy.”

  “Yes, I’ve been reading about this.”

  “The oligarchy in control of Ukraine has many American business partners. The Minister of Finance is from the U.S. State Department. The last time you were here, there was less of a CIA presence. Now, they are everywhere.”

  “You can’t trust police, or anybody right now,” said Victor. Please, let us handle situation.”

  “Victor, you’re talking about my girl. She’s not a situation. How did she get involved in the first place? She was working on agriculture.”

  “We cannot discuss her assignment,” said Victor.

  “American agriculture has a big stake here,” said the Ambassador. “John Deere, and your company, Germinat – they have a lot to gain here, especially with a government that will do whatever they want.”

  “My ex-company,” Seth interjected.

  “We think Miss Andropova got too close. Hopefully, she is just too far undercover to communicate and they have not exposed her as FSB agent,” said Victor.

  “But what does her message mean?” asked Seth.

  “It’s the title of a poem by Lermontov,” said Victor. “Called Captive Knight. In it, the knight describes his prison. We think she was trying to indicate to you that she had been taken captive.”

  “But why use a poem, why not just say it?”

  “Maybe to disguise her message. Maybe because she didn’t have time to leave proper message. They were most likely monitoring her communications,” said Victor. She must have sent message on her phone before they took it.”

  “Mr. Rogan, you are free to do as you choose,” said the Ambassador. “But both your safety and that of Miss Andropova depends on you letting us take the lead on this.”

  “If you can’t even discuss her assignment with me, how can I trust you? She may be your agent, but she’s my life.”

  “We understand,” said the Ambassador. “You have to trust that we are doing everything in our power to locate Miss Andropova.”

  “But what if that’s not enough?”

  “We are dealing with very bad people,” said Victor. “Same ones who glorify role of Nazi partisans in World War II and call them “freedom fighters.” The fascist parties of Ukraine have gained lot of power recently, and they have their own members already in government. You have to let us do our job and stay out of way.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “They know you are here. You stick out like big thumb,” said Victor.

  “Sore thumb.”

  “Yes, sore thumb. By spying around, you will only bring danger to Natalia.”

  “Look, I will lay low for now. But, let me ask you something, Mr. Ambassador. If it was your wife who was missing, would you just sit by idly and do nothing?”

  Petrov looked at Seth and frowned. “I see your point, Mr. Rogan. But I am afraid that national security must take a front seat to your personal interests. I am sorry. Victor will give you as much information as he can on the case. Then, you will be on your own. “

  Petrov rose and extended his hand, which Seth took in his. “Please stay in close communication with us. We may need you.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Seth left the embassy, and checked in to the Premier Palace Hotel in the center of Kiev. He was certain that the gut feeling he had that he was being followed was genuine, rather than paranoia, but he wasn’t sure if it was the Ukrainians, the Russians, or both of them. He realized how much he had taken his privacy for granted, now that so many others seemed so preoccupied with destro
ying it.

  Seth tapped into the hotel’s Wi-Fi to check his email which, not surprisingly, had no message from Natasha, then looked up the location of the police station on Google maps. Since he assumed that all his Internet activity was being monitored, he didn’t bother to slip out of the room undetected. He took the elevator to the first floor and flagged a conventional taxi to the station, which was called the “Main Department of Internal Affairs.”

  It was an impressive and massive white building with a façade of Corinthian columns which bore both a Ukrainian flag and, curiously, a European Union flag, even though Ukraine was not a member of the European Union. Once inside, Seth did not have to wait long for Detective Petrenko. In the waiting room, he checked his cell phone for the available Wi-Fi connections and made a note of them. There was a secured active connection that appeared to serve this section of the building. This information may come in handy for snooping later.

  Finally, a man in shirt and tie approached him, smiling, with his hand outstretched. “Mr. Rogan, I am Detective Ivan Petrenko. We spoke on the phone.” said Petrenko, offering his hand.

  “Yes, thank you for seeing me,” said Seth, standing and completing the shake. Petrenko was a 30-something, with short blonde hair in a “bowl” haircut and light green eyes. Petrenko led Seth into his office, which was right down the corridor from the waiting room.

  Petrenko’s office was plain and sparsely furnished. Seth noted the vintage desktop computer monitor which he surmised was connected to a tower CPU. Given the amount of people in the building, he knew that an onsite hack of the computer would be virtually impossible. Seth took a set in front of Petrenko’s steel desk.

  “Mr. Rogan, I can assure you that we are doing everything possible to locate Miss Andropova.”

  “Do you have any leads on her whereabouts?”