by Kenneth Eade
“Well, yes…”
“Second, you cannot trust anybody – even your protectors.”
“Technically, that includes you, Dave.”
“Fair enough, but the fact that you’re here and have not turned over the report to the Russians says that you have already made your decision. Is the report safe?”
“Yes.”
“You have it hidden somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“The best bet is to get it while the CIA is waiting for you. Less chance for them to track you when they’re sitting there for the appointment. Let’s meet, secure the report, then get you out of Russia as soon as possible.”
“Then what?”
“You’ll travel to the states on your Canadian passport,” said Julia. “U.S. Marshals will pick you up at the border and take you to a safe house. You will be enrolled in the witness protection program for your safety. That means a new identity, a new location.”
“How do I know this isn’t all bullshit?” asked Seth.
“We put the deal in writing,” said Dave, as he lifted his briefcase onto his lap, opened it, and took out some papers. Dave slid the papers to Seth on to the coffee table.”
“This is the best deal you will ever make,” Julia said.
Seth read over the papers. They were from the U.S. Attorney’s office, they looked official, and seemed to provide everything Dave said they would.
“Because it’s a government corruption case, you can rest assured that nobody in the government, except for the U.S. Marshal, will know who you are or where you are,” said Dave.
“Would I be able to bring my girlfriend with me?” asked Seth.
“If you were married, the deal would cover both parties,” said Julia. “If not, I’m afraid they wouldn’t even be able to tell her where you are.”
Seth thought hard about this. If he signed the deal, he wouldn’t be able to see Natasha for some time, maybe a long time. But if he didn’t sign the deal, he would surely be killed or thrown into an obscure prison. If they could find him in Russia they could find him anywhere. He needed to tap the same kind of unlimited government resources to hide as they had used to find him. He signed the deal.
“You made the right decision,” said Dave.
Now if only he could live long enough to see it through.
52
Seth woke after a restless sleep and a series of strange dreams. He called Natasha.
“Natasha, would you mind taking the class today?”
“Sure, what’s going on?”
“I’ve got some important business to take care of.”
“George, what kind of business could you have in Russia?”
“It’s complicated, and I really can’t explain it now, but I promise, I’ll explain it to you later. The most important thing is that I want you to know that meeting you has been the brightest point of my life, and I don’t want to lose what we have.”
“We won’t.”
“If anything happens, just remember that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Life gets complicated. Sometimes there are things you just can’t control. Just know that I am always thinking of you and that we will be together, I promise.”
“Sounds like a good-bye. What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you everything, I just can’t right now.”
“George, you’re scaring me.”
“Sorry, I don’t mean to. I’ll call you later today, okay?”
Time was passing too quickly toward eight o’clock. By seven-thirty, Dave and Seth would be at the apartment. By eight, they and Julia would be on their way to a safe house near the airport. By nine the next morning, they would be on a flight to Moscow.
At seven-twenty, Seth was out the door and walking toward the mini-mart. Dave was waiting for him there in his car. They drove to Seth’s apartment, securing the car in the garage area a short walk from the building. The building looked quiet. Nobody was going in, our or hanging around. There didn’t seem to be anyone watching the perimeter. Dave picked up a black bag from the back seat, as they both exited the car.
“What’s that for?” asked Seth.
“My bag of tricks. You never know.”
The apartment door was no longer open. In fact, the door had been replaced. Seth tried to open it, and it was locked. He tried his key in the lock, but it didn’t work.
“The lock’s been changed,” said Seth.
“Stand back.”
Dave pulled a heavy duty crowbar out of the black bag, wedged it in the door jamb, and popped the door open with one easy movement.
The apartment was still in a state of disarray. “Don’t turn on the lights,” said Dave, handing Seth a flashlight.
Seth turned on the flashlight and they entered the living room without taking off their coats and boots. They were not staying.
Seth shined the light on the cover plate and unscrewed it. The printout of the report and flash drive were still there. He pulled them out, then stood up to give them to Dave.
“I’ve got them,” he said.
Seth heard a loud “POP” and saw Dave crumple to his knees, and then fall on his bag. He shined the light on Dave and saw his coat soaked up with blood. There was blood coming from the corner of Dave’s mouth. Seth panicked. The CIA must have ambushed them. He crouched down and shined the light toward the door.
Then he heard a familiar voice say, “I will take that, Seth.” The lights flipped on and there was Yuri, standing in the corridor, holding his pistol, trained right at Seth. Dave was choking, still alive. Yuri pointed the gun at his head and fired, blasting particles of Dave’s brain all over the floor and wall. Seth, terrified, jumped, and started to gag.
“I told you so many times, Seth. You are shitty spy.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Simple. Your guys pay more. Now give me report.”
“And if I give it to you, you’ll let me go?”
“No. But if you don’t give it to me, I shoot you and take it.”
“And you’re going to shoot me anyway.”
“Right. Seth, I like you, but this is business. Spy business is dirty business.”
“What about Dave?”
“Fugitive kills FBI agent. I was watching apartment and heard gun shot. When I came in, FBI agent was dead and you were holding stolen gun in hand, pointed at me. I shot you to defend myself. Now hand over report, and I promise I will not make you suffer. One shot to head – you won’t feel nothing.”
Yuri moved his gun in a “come here” manner, beckoning Seth to turn over the report.
“Come on Seth. Time’s up.”
Seth stood there, frozen, unable to move. Suddenly, he heard the crack of four rapidly fired gunshots, and Yuri fell to the floor, his gun clattering out in front of him. Behind him, standing in the ready firing position, was Natasha, with hand outstretched. In her hand was a pistol. Smoke poured from the barrel like the wisp of smoke that emanates from a cigarette after a long drag. Her firing hand was shaking.
Seth was in shock, but pumped with adrenalin. He quickly kicked Yuri’s gun out of the way, across the floor. Judging from the blood pooling around his torso, he was in no position to use it. Natasha was crying now. Seth embraced her, and she fell into him.
“I’ve never killed anyone,” she said, sobbing.
“You’ll be okay. We have to leave now. Do you have a car?”
“No.”
“Watch the door.”
Seth fumbled through Dave’s coat pockets for his car keys, found them, and put them in his pocket, along with the report and the flash drive. He ushered Natasha out. She was still shaking.
“What on earth were you doing there, and with a gun? You saved my life.”
“I’m FSB.”
“What?”
“I was assigned to you as backup. Yuri never knew of my existence.”
“Then, everything between us – that was all just part of your cover?”
/> “No George – Seth – everything between us was real, I swear. I didn’t count on falling in love with you.”
“You’re in love with me?”
“I didn’t want to tell you this way.” Natasha’s face was pained. She was suffering.
“I was going to tell you too, but it was just too dangerous. I have a deal with the FBI. We need to get to Julia right away.”
“First I have to call this in.”
Seth could see that her hands were still shaking as she took out her cell phone and called in the crime scene. She spoke on the phone for several minutes. After the call, she was controlled, but still visibly upset.
“I have to tell you what is going to happen,” she said, as she put away the cell phone. “An FBI agent is dead at the hands of one of our FSB agents who went rogue. The Americans will deny that it was their own CIA that he was working for. This cannot be an international incident. Yuri’s body will be removed from the scene and Dave’s death will be deemed an unsolved matter with no suspects. They can’t promise how the Americans will react, but the FSB was officially never here.”
“I understand. What about me?”
“The Americans will probably want to name you as a primary suspect, but, as far as our investigation is concerned, since I was a witness, you are in the clear in Russia. And since they will probably be after Seth Rogan as well as George Aimers, you’ll be given a new passport and immigration papers. But you can probably forget about the asylum application.”
“Julia can clear all this up. I signed a deal with the U.S. Attorney for immunity for my testimony before a Congressional investigation. She has it.”
“Yes, she is your best way to get out of this mess. We have to get rid of those three CIA agents.”
“Get rid of them – you mean kill them?”
“No, of course not. We just have to get enough information from them to prove they have violated the terms of their visa and they will be asked to leave.”
They walked carefully, slowly and methodically to Dave’s car, with Seth leading the way.
“I’ll drive. I know the roads better,” said Natasha.
They got in and Natasha pulled out, turning right onto the street. As they approached Dave’s building, they could see police cars parked outside of it. They parked Dave’s car in the back, and used his security key to get in the building.
When they got in the building, Dave’s door was open. They were stopped at the entrance by a uniformed police officer. Natasha showed her FSB badge and they came in. Two other uniformed officers and what appeared to be a police detective in civilian attire were gathered around the lifeless body of Julia, which was surrounded by a pool of fresh blood. Natasha talked to the officers.
“There are no papers here. Nothing. The computers have been taken as well.”
Seth now was not only probably the only suspect in the murder of two FBI agents, but he no longer had a deal with the FBI. That deal had died with Dave and Julia.
53
The next task was to deal with the three CIA agents waiting for Seth in the lobby of the Parus Hotel. Natasha called for backup as they made their way to the meeting.
The Parus was an elegant, European style hotel, built inside a late 19th century mansion that must have been home to one of the first Far East noble families. They made their way to the lovely grand entrance, where Natasha spotted her backup – three FSB agents dressed like gardeners or grounds men, one dressed as a doorman, and three others dressed like businessmen. One of the “gardeners” took them aside and equipped Seth with a wire for his meeting.
As they entered the lobby, the “businessmen” followed them in. Natasha and the “businessmen” took a seat at a nearby table, while Seth approached the three nameless agents.
“Good evening, Mr. Rogan,” said the gray eyed agent.
“Good evening.”
“You’re late. We almost gave up on you.”
“Something came up.”
“Well, let’s get down to business, shall we?” the agent said, as he lit up a cigarette, without bothering to ask Seth if he minded the smoking. “You have something we need, and we have something that may be of interest to you.”
“What’s that?” Seth spurted out, wryly.
Gray Eyes looked surprised at Seth’s new found boldness.
“I thought you valued your freedom,” said the agent.
“And are you in any position to take it away?”
“The United States government does not take lightly to having its secrets being stolen by its contractors, Mr. Rogan. I can assure you that if you do not cooperate with us, we cannot guarantee your safety inside or outside of Russia.”
“So you are threatening me?”
“Not threatening – educating.”
“I don’t see that you gentlemen are here in any official capacity – are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, does the Russian government just let CIA agents wander around, threatening people under their protection? Is that a norm for them?”
“The Russians cannot protect you from the wrath of the United States.”
“And who dispenses that wrath – you?”
“Look, Rogan, don’t fuck with the CIA. Like I told you before, we don’t negotiate. Now give me the fucking report if you want to live.” Gray Eyes pulled back the corner of his jacket, revealing a weapon tucked under his belt.
With that, Natasha and her three businessmen as well as the doorman approached the agents at gunpoint. Natasha flashed her badge to them and smiled.
“FSB, gentlemen. Please put your hands on your heads. The three businessmen frisked the agents, removing their weapons.
“May I see your passports please?” Natasha said, politely. “Were you aware that handguns are forbidden in Russia?”
The three agents did not expect this. Obviously they had made their deal with Yuri, and he had done his part. They had no idea that Seth had a backup. They turned out to be holding visitor’s visas, and had no official business in Russia, plus they were in possession of firearms without permits. Natasha left them in the capable hands of the three businessmen and the doorman, and they left, giving Seth’s wire to the “gardeners” as they exited.
“What will happen to them now?”
“Their visas will be revoked and they will be invited to leave the country.”
“With no prosecution?”
“This would be an embarrassment for both countries. For the U.S., to have their spies caught in a criminal conspiracy, and, even worse, for Russia to have one of their own not only becoming a double agent, but murdering two FBI agents. I’m afraid none of this can ever come to light.”
“What do we do now?”
“We relocate until you can make your next move.”
54
Seth’s last hope – Julia – had been eliminated. He wasn’t sure if it was the CIA agents or Yuri who had done it but, either way, she was just as dead. Seth waited in the lobby of the local FSB office, a front disguised as a travel agency, while Natasha was picking up his new passport and paperwork, contemplating his next move. Technically, he had a deal with the FBI, but how could he get to them? Seth Rogan, aka George Aimers, was all over the Western news. Even the Russian news was reporting it. In the lobby, a television set on the news channel broadcasted his picture, as a foreign correspondent told the story, dubbed over in Russian.
“Seth Rogan, also known as George Aimers, the fugitive wanted for violation of the Espionage Act, is now the sole suspect in the murder of undercover FBI agents Brian Jenkins and Melissa Standing. He is still at large and presumed to be armed and dangerous. Anyone with information as to the whereabouts of Mr. Rogan is urged to call their local law enforcement office.”
According to Natasha, Interpol also had an all-points bulletin out for his apprehension. They decided that Russia was the only place that was safe for him for now. They were to make it to a safe house in St. Petersburg and lay low there until
a point of contact could be made with the FBI.
The adrenalin pumping through Seth’s body didn’t allow him to be tired at all, but he supposed his system would come crashing down once they finally came to a place where they could rest. They made their way to a hotel near the airport and checked in.
For once in this entire ordeal, Seth was with someone he could trust with his entire story, so he told it all to Natasha that night. There were no longer any secrets between them.
“Sounds like you have more spy experience than me,” she said.
“You know, I never pictured you as a spy. How did that happen?”
“Hard to say, really. My education really is for teaching, but the pay is not very good and I wanted a job where I could travel and have some excitement.”
“It’s quite a contrast.”
“To tell you the truth, it’s terrifying. After this shooting, I don’t think I want to renew my contract.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m in the same boat as you.” A boat with a leak patched up with duct tape, a blown out motor, a hole in the sail and no oars. It wasn’t likely that Seth’s application for asylum would be granted now, so his time in Russia was limited to the one year expiration of his visa. He had a few months to clear this up or disappear someplace else. It would be tough to find a country who would take not only a traitor, but also one suspected of murdering two FBI agents. That was going to be a hard sell. He had to try to connect with the FBI. The paperwork had the name of the Assistant U.S. Attorney who drafted the deal. He would call him from St. Petersburg.
Natasha was too rattled from the shooting to sleep, and tossed and turned the entire night. Seth finally was able to get a few hours before they woke up to catch the early morning flight.
55
St. Petersburg was about as cold as Khabarovsk, but its scenery was a festival for the senses. Many have referred to it as the “Paris of Russia.” It’s true that the architecture was uniquely European, but the streets were bigger, the buildings more massive, and the city was connected by a series of small canals. At night the city glistened and glowed with lights, like a movie set made up for a night scene. Seth and Natasha shared an apartment in the center of town.