The Trust Of The People (Conspiracy Trilogy Book 2)

by Christopher Read

  It was late afternoon by the time Anderson reached Marshwick, brain still struggling to come up with a sensible solution to the puzzle. He knew he’d already wasted too much time on the problem; best now to accept defeat and let Charlotte put in her two pennyworth. As to what he should about McDowell’s associate and the fact he might be Russian – then that was a problem to put aside for another day.

  Yaroslavl Oblast, Russia – 20:10 Local Time; 17:10 UTC

  Markova was left in little doubt that she was an interloper, her supposed authority only temporary until she made a mistake or Morozov lost patience. True to his word, the General had sent six staff to operate the house’s small communications and data network, the facility a recent addition to what had become Morozov’s favourite refuge from the political claustrophobia of Moscow. With the house, its contents, and its upkeep paid for by the Russian Government, it seemed ironic that Markova was using it to counter Russia’s elected Head of State.

  The additional staff were all GRU, their natural hostility to the FSB surprisingly muted, possibly due to the fact that all bar one were female. They certainly seemed to find it a pleasant change to have another woman in charge, although it was debatable whether Markova had any real authority, with the single male operative – a young Lieutenant named Belinsky - having to confirm her every command.

  The GRU was Russia’s military intelligence arm and larger by far than the SVR; it could also call upon its own special forces, the spetsnaz operating in a dozen conflicts in the last decade alone, including Ukraine and Lithuania. From its headquarters at Khodynka in Moscow’s north-west suburbs, the GRU gathered intelligence from a variety of sources, primarily foreign agents, satellite data, and electronic intercepts. Now a small part of that expertise was also being turned inward, Sukhov’s movements over the last two weeks being looked at in more detail.

  In addition to the usual intelligence gathering, the GRU had also accessed Sukhov’s phone records, the data passed on to Markova’s team for more detailed analysis. Such records were far more comprehensive than a standard domestic bill, in that the relevant cell towers were identified for both the caller and recipient, thereby giving an indication as to each person’s location.

  It was a dangerous game they were playing, and by its very nature their action opened them up to detection by other agencies, their main concern a purged FSB and the Ministry of Internal Affairs (MVD). To Markova’s disappointment, there was nothing that unusual about Sukhov’s phone calls: no unexpected hotspots and no suspicious recipients or callers. A week after his return from Hamburg, he had made one further long-distance trip, a repeat visit to the Russian city of Khabarovsk north of Vladivostok, but again the phone data revealed nothing out of place.

  Frustrated with the lack of progress, Markova abruptly moved the focus to London, the threatened terrorist attacks possibly just hours away. Sukhov’s two trips to London had been in late-June and mid-September, and the team’s first task was to work out where exactly he might have gone. Historical phone data generally only identified a single cell tower for each call made, and triangulation to give an exact position was thus impossible. If the caller was moving then the connection might switch from one tower to another, but without real-time access it was far from an exact science.

  The data from Sukhov’s phone records pinpointed just five cell towers where multiple calls had connected, the results the same for both of Sukhov’s trips. Two were adjacent to Heathrow Airport, the remaining three forming a triangle centred on the village of Bray.

  Markova looked closer, but apart from Bray having a so-called Millionaires’ Row and more than its fair share of Michelin-starred restaurants, there was nothing to excite interest. Still curious, she checked as to what additional records might be available, Belinsky taking great delight in revealing that Khodynka could access historical data for a specific cell tower, wherever it was.

  Now, Markova’s team were set the wearisome task of checking the destination of every call connected to Bray’s three cell towers during Sukhov’s two trips to London, plus a week either side as well. For completeness, she also threw in satellite phones, the relevant calls identified through their GPS location. In total that would give her thirty-two days of data, enough surely to at least see if there was something, anything, which might provide the breakthrough she needed.

  General Morozov’s time limit, if it were that, was edging ever closer. And despite Markova giving the orders, she remained a prisoner, ankle bracelet intact, denied direct access to any phone or computer, unable even to tap out a single command. Escape was still an option, the exact means finally decided, the necessary resources more or less acquired. Now all Markova needed was an acceptable set of circumstances to make the risks worthwhile.

  Markova assumed the FSB would think her on the run, although she had slowly come to realise that the GRU and FSB were co-operating together rather more effectively than normal. By default, some in the FSB – like Markova – seemed to have chosen to side with Morozov over Golubeva, and even the attitude of Markova’s GRU guards was more relaxed than previously, the FSB not quite the rival of a week earlier.

  Whether Morozov was actually the lesser of two evils, she had yet to decide. Just four days left until his deadline expired.

  Washington D.C. – 17:30 Local Time; 21:30 UTC

  Jensen sat in the Oval Office, the National Security Advisor – Amy Pittman – to his right, the President seated opposite. Just the three of them, the President wanting to be kept appraised of developments prior to the 27th and the threatened attacks. London, Washington or even Moscow – basically they had no idea which city was the target.

  Of the three, Jensen would have picked Moscow, the number of demonstrations mounting, and a violent protest outside the Kremlin had finally persuaded the police to make us of batons and tear gas. It wasn’t so much President Golubeva that had provoked the crowd’s anger, more the repeated fear that the military held too much sway in Government, with General Morozov still a major figure in the ruling clique.

  Elsewhere, the verbal spat between North Korea and Japan had cooled a little, Thorn successfully putting pressure on the government in Tokyo, the North Koreans helpfully managing to keep silent. China was once more embroiled in an argument with its neighbours over territorial claims in the South China Sea, with Vietnam demanding the withdrawal of a drilling rig from the disputed Spratly Islands.

  At home, the Midterm Elections were the main political focus, the recent disappointing news on the economy adding a little more spice to what threatened to be a non-event. Voter apathy continued to be a serious problem, some regarding it as a national embarrassment. Even with the turnout predicted to be less than 35%, the prize of Senate control might still elude the Republicans. The President’s approval rating had in turn dropped another two points, more through disinterest than any obvious concerns, and at 48% it compared favourably with the two previous incumbents at a similar stage.

  On a more personal level, the murder of two of Mississippi’s four Congressmen had only added to the meeting’s sombre mood. The FBI had already spent almost a whole day crawling over the scene with as yet no definitive answer as to who was responsible. The motive was also an unknown, the hit obviously the work of professionals. A week ago, a terrorist attack would have seemed an improbable scenario – now, after the communique from across the pond and Hanson’s own murder, such a possibility seemed far more likely.

  “Hanson first,” President Cavanagh directed. “Security issues and the follow up to her murder. Then we can deal with Mississippi.”

  Jensen quickly consulted his notes, “Hanson’s visit to the Wilhelmshaven Naval Base was authorised directly from the ONI and signed-off by her section head, a Captain Nolan. We have Nolan under investigation, and Hanson’s sister was certainly under the impression that the trip was official; however, ONI records show that Hanson was on a week’s leave during her trip to Germany. For the moment, as far as Nolan and his department are concern
ed, the FBI’s interest is purely a consequence of Hanson’s murder. It will take time to work out whether Nolan or anyone else in the ONI is involved, and we’ve only checked Hanson’s routine as far back as the end of August – nothing unexpected has yet turned up.”

  That was as good as it got, and the rest of Jensen’s report was a whole lot of nothing. “The FBI have identified the car the sniper escaped in, but that’s all; no clue as to where it is or who its two occupants were. DNA results from the water tower have proved unhelpful: no match to McDowell or anyone else associated with the U.S. military or police, either past or present.”

  The follow-up questions only confirmed what little the Intelligence Community actually knew about Hanson – no idea as to her relationship with McDowell, her possible role within his organisation, or even her motivation to betray her country.

  And still no real clue as to why she was at Wilhelmshaven, as all she did for the two days was observe – nothing more. Jensen had set up a specialist team to deal specifically with the problem of Hanson, its members drawn from the Department of Homeland Security, the FBI, the CIA, and the National Security Agency. Hanson theoretically had access to the U.S. Navy’s Acoustic Intelligence Database and no-one had yet produced a compelling explanation for her presence at the symposium. The discussions were supposedly complex, certainly for someone inexperienced in algorithms, and the only recommendations to come out of the two-day meeting were relatively minor, just slight modifications to NATO’s submarine database.

  “We’ve offered our full assistance to the British,” Jensen continued, “and we’ve increased the threat level at embassies and diplomatic missions across Western Europe. There’s been no definite sightings of McDowell or anyone else associated with August 14; we assume he’s somewhere in the UK.”

  The President asked, “And you believe it is August 14 that are responsible for all this. They were supposedly anti-Russian, not anti-British.”

  “It’s not clear, Sir. But it does seem that the remains of the terrorist group have reformed with some new agenda in mind. We certainly don’t know who this offshoot is out to target, and the evidence for it even being London is tenuous at best.”

  Amy Pittman was quick to interject, “Wasn’t Pat McDowell just some sort of security man for the terrorists? Shouldn’t we be focusing on someone higher up the chain of command?”

  “He was far more than just that; maybe even August 14’s second-in-command. He’s obviously moved on and it would be unwise to misjudge his ability.”

  “This British connection,” continued Pittman. “I seem to recall that there were several British associates of McDowell’s who are still unaccounted for; a Jack Carter for one?”

  “Jonathan Carter,” Jensen confirmed. “There was a sighting of him in Quebec last December, but nothing since; two others are also on the run. Carter was August 14’s main computer specialist and if McDowell is working with anyone from last time, then I guess it would most likely be Jon Carter.”

  Pittman persisted, “And these photographs the Brits intercepted – have they been of any use?”

  Jensen tried to sound positive, “The restaurant shown behind Hanson has been identified, CCTV confirming McDowell and Hanson ate there. The staff members have been interviewed but there was nothing of real interest. The two photographs of just McDowell have him standing in front of a stone facade that could be part of a hundred buildings in Bremen, or indeed any other German city. We’ll obviously persevere in trying to identify where exactly they were taken, but I’m not hopeful.”

  “It seems,” muttered Pittman with a hint of frustration, “that we actually know very little.”

  Jensen chose not to comment. The questions continued, Jensen putting a brave face on what was essentially a pointless and unhelpful briefing, and a single-page written report would have served just as well.

  It was an unfortunate truth that Jensen’s task would be far easier once the first attack had actually happened. The present hit-and-miss approach was never going to be effective, and they needed something specific in order to focus their resources more accurately. Jensen could only hope that when the attack came and wherever it occurred, it was significantly less bloody than those suffered by Moscow during the terrorists’ previous brutal offensive.

  Of course, it was always possible that the murders in Mississippi were somehow related to McDowell – a prospect the President also seized upon.

  “Mississippi – is that part of this?”

  Jensen was forced to stay with his know-nothing theme. “It’s no more than a possibility, Mr President. DNA from one of the vehicles has been matched to a Gary Steele; he’s ex-Special Forces, served in Afghanistan, present whereabouts unknown. We also have vague descriptions of three other men, but nothing that specific. One of them is described as being white, six-two, two hundred pounds – McDowell’s six-four, so it might be him.” Jensen shrugged, “We need to be careful and not jump to the wrong conclusion simply because it’s convenient. Maybe this is part of some local campaign against the Republicans or the State of Mississippi; it’s just too early to tell.”

  The final phrase said it all, Jensen trusting that the breakthrough would come. Unfortunately, time had now run out, the 27th already making its pre-dawn appearance in a cold and wet London.

  Chapter 7 – Thursday, October 27th

  Moscow – 10:16 Local Time; 07:16 UTC

  Nikolai drove south following the Boulevard Ring, the traffic still crawling along despite it being well after the normal early-morning commute. His job as an FSB courier was often a frustration, sometimes just plain boring, but thanks to Grebeshkov’s influence it paid well enough. Whether that would continue beyond the next month seemed unlikely, the General’s replacement already making changes.

  Not that President Golubeva’s man would have an easy task, the Lubyanka a haven for the disaffected and the insubordinate, their anger directed mainly at their colleagues in the SVR and on occasion those who wielded power in the Kremlin. Such animosity extended throughout the FSB, although those not directly associated with the Lubyanka tended to be rather more circumspect in their opposition to the President’s ‘improvements’, with relatively few senior officers willing to voice their support as a mark of solidarity.

  The persistent rumours of friction between Golubeva and Morozov had in turn become an incentive for the Lubyanka to work more closely with the GRU, the odd secret shared, a rumour confirmed. The GRU’s Headquarters at Khodynka seemed keen to reciprocate and the subsequent exchange of information was carried out on a totally informal basis. The preferred option was via couriers like Nikolai, both sides concerned as to how secure the speedier electronic methods might actually be.

  Nikolai’s special relationship with Grebeshkov had always given him a certain status within the FSB; more so since the General’s murder. As a result, his regular sources within the Lubyanka had gone out of their way to keep him in the loop, and there was almost a sense that Nikolai needed protecting, his route through security nowadays greeted with a smile and a wave, the guards seemingly more concerned with who else might be watching. Nikolai had certainly pushed his status to the limit, disappearing for days at a time without explanation: in response, his section leader had merely asked if Nikolai was okay and then left it at that, no criticism, no complaint.

  With Grebeshkov’s murder and Markova’s subsequent unease – even going so far as to warn Nikolai to take extra care – he had wanted first to protect his own family. In any case, her instructions with regard to the information on Hanson had seemed more of a personal request than a direct order, and Nikolai had felt able to adapt them accordingly. It was thus twenty-four hours before he had finally taken a flight out of Moscow, paranoia ensuring he chose a roundabout route to London; as result he hadn’t actually reached Marshwick until early on the Thursday.

  With his mission duly completed, Nikolai had initially been happy to leave Anderson to his own devices. That had all changed once he had ret
urned to Moscow, only then learning of Markova’s disappearance. Five years they had worked together, worlds apart in rank but separated in age by just two years, with Markova the elder. For some unclear reason Nikolai had always been protective of her and now he worried that he had let her down, his delay in contacting Anderson not what Markova would have wanted.

  Despite the risks, he had decided to help Anderson where he could, Nikolai pulling in a reluctant favour from the GRU. Old enmities were slowly being put aside as President Golubeva’s opponents began to work together, all of them wary of putting too much trust in the others and fearful lest the West take advantage.

  Markova hadn’t been the only FSB agent to disappear, two others from her section missing, another found drowned. In the ten days since Grebeshkov’s murder, five senior staff from the Lubyanka – all considered loyal to the General – had been arrested on trumped-up charges; another eight had been transferred away from Moscow. Yet each incident only served to reinforce the Lubyanka’s intransigence and resentment. Such purges had always been an accepted risk to those who worked for Russia’s Security Services: after the failed coup of ’91, Boris Yeltsin had split the KGB into separate foreign and domestic agencies, eventually to become the SVR and FSB – now the two agencies were more like jealous brothers, each suspecting that the other was the favoured son.

  Markova’s investigation of Sukhov had now been abandoned; even the search for the Lubyanka’s missing agents had been taken out of the FSB’s hands – officially that was. Unofficially, every possible lead was being pursued, no-one willing to give up just yet. The inquiry into General Grebeshkov’s murder had similarly been reassigned to the Presidential Security Service, it already clear that Alekseyev had amassed significant gambling debts. There was also some evidence to suggest his daughter’s family had been threatened, those responsible as yet unknown.