“Some, yes. You have to understand that Ben kept all things very close to the vest. He has few friends, and his work is his life.”
“Yeah, I know, it trumps his family, too.”
“Anyway, Ben didn’t go into much detail but he said something unbelievable was being planned. And that if it actually came off, there would be global implications. I gather that Ben was trying to stop it from happening.”
“But he never told you exactly what it was?” asked Pine.
“No.”
Blum said, “But if Ben Priest found out about this, wouldn’t those behind the plot know? They wouldn’t attempt it now.” She looked at Pine. “Would they?”
Candler said, “I don’t know. I’ve found that people in power can be incredibly insulated and therefore unrealistic about what they can accomplish.”
“Meaning they’re stupid drunk with power,” said Blum.
“A more accurate phrase, yeah.”
Pine thought back to the Army chopper that had set down in Arizona and lifted off a few minutes later with the injured Priest brothers on board. Then the Russians at Ben Priest’s home. The “feds” at Simon Russell’s house. And finally, Sung Nam Chung, a Korean turned international killer. If a coup was being planned, who was doing what to whom? And who was Chung working for?
Blum said, “There must be something we can do.”
Candler shook his head. “I’m a scholar, not Jason Bourne.”
Pine said, “Thanks for the information. If you think of anything else, here’s a number where I can be reached.”
She wrote her phone number down on a slip of paper and handed it to him.
As they were climbing out of the car, Candler said, “Look, there is one more thing.”
“What’s that?” asked Pine quickly, ducking her head back inside.
“Mr. Fabrikant left right after you did. I heard him mention he was going somewhere.”
“Where?”
“I couldn’t hear that part. But I checked with his secretary. She makes all his travel arrangements.”
“Did she know?”
“Yes, she did. She said it was sudden. He popped into her office right after you left.”
“Where is he going? Please don’t tell me North Korea.”
“No. He’s flying to Moscow. Tonight.”
CHAPTER
41
All of the flights from the DC area to Moscow left out of Dulles International Airport. There were two flights out that night: a Lufthansa flight and a Turkish Airlines flight.
Pine was covering the Lufthansa gate, while Blum was watching the Turkish Airlines departure area. Pine had tried to simply use her badge to get them through the TSA checkpoint. But the personnel there had demanded to see her ID, and Blum’s as well.
As they walked through the airport Pine said, “Okay, we might have just blown our cover. Either of us sees anything screwy we text the other, okay?”
“Roger that,” said Blum.
The Lufthansa flight left at ten thirty and its Turkish counterpart at eleven on the dot. Pine figured Fabrikant would opt for the Lufthansa flight, because it came with one layover in Munich before a connecting flight took him to Domodedovo Airport outside of Moscow. The Turkish flight overall was hours longer, although it would fly into Vnukovo Airport, which was closer to Moscow than Domodedovo Airport was.
She checked her watch and gazed at the crowd seated in the departing gate area.
For a disguise, she had on a ball cap and a pair of reading glasses she’d bought at one of the airport shops. Blum had gotten a hat and glasses, too. Pine was pretending to read a book that she had also purchased at the shop.
A minute later Pine smiled. She had guessed right, because Oscar Fabrikant was marching down the middle of the concourse carrying a small duffel in one hand and a briefcase in the other.
Pine texted Blum, put her book down, took off her glasses, rose from her chair, and started walking toward Fabrikant. She took out her phone and the card he’d given her and dialed his cell phone.
She watched as he quickly searched through his pockets, pulled out his phone, and looked at the screen.
“How about we do some face time instead,” she said, coming to stand in front of him.
He visibly flinched when he looked up and saw her. He put his phone away.
“Well, well, what a coincidence,” Pine said. “You’re running and I’m hunting.”
Fabrikant turned and started walking rapidly away from her, until he saw Blum approaching from the other direction.
He stopped, and his diminutive frame seemed to melt into the airport floor tiles.
Pine reached him, gripped his shoulder, and turned him around to face her.
“Moscow? Really? Care to explain?”
He looked around as Blum arrived.
He said stiffly, “Not now. Maybe when I get back, if I’m so inclined.”
Pine pulled out her badge. “You’re going nowhere. You’re officially detained.”
“You have no grounds to detain me. It’s not against the law to travel to Russia. So if you will excuse me.”
He started to walk past.
She gripped his shoulder and held him in place. “Why are you going to Moscow?”
“For business. My business.” Fabrikant reached over and tried to remove her hand but couldn’t manage it. “Do I need to call the police?” he said angrily.
“If you want to. But I think it would be better if we went somewhere and talked this out.”
“I have nothing to say to you. And I have a plane to catch.”
“Then maybe you better call the police. And then I can have a chat with them about the Society for Good actually being a place where espionage takes place.”
“That’s an absolute lie.”
“Really? Donations from sources you won’t reveal? Your people traveling the world soaking up intelligence? Oh, and one of your members is somehow caught up in a plot to maybe overthrow the government and has now vanished. And as soon as I told you about all that, you’re on a plane to Moscow? So let’s go get the cops. I’m sure you’ll be able to explain all of that in time to catch your flight to see Putin. I mean it’s not like the Russians have been doing anything lately to screw with us.”
The longer Pine spoke, the smaller Fabrikant seemed to become.
“Where do you want to talk?” he said, after she finished speaking.
“There’s a bar right over there. And I could use a drink.”
They got a seat as far away from the other patrons as they could. A waitress came over and took their orders. Pine had a beer, Blum a Coke, and Fabrikant a glass of merlot.
“So why Moscow?” said Pine. “I have it on good authority that your trip was sudden and the genesis for it was my visit.”
“I’m not sure I have to tell you anything.”
“Are you really going down that road again? At the very least I have enough to hold you on the suspicion of being stupid.”
“I have two PhDs, both from Ivy League schools,” retorted Fabrikant.
“Then start acting like it,” interjected Blum. “I mean, my goodness. We don’t have this sort of time to waste.”
No one said anything until their drinks came.
After the waitress left, Fabrikant wiped a bit of sweat off his forehead and said, “All right, look, some things you said made me believe that a trip to Moscow was in order.”
“What was that?”
“The Russians being at Ben’s place foremost.” He fell silent and tapped his fingers against the table top.
“Oscar, we’re waiting,” prompted Pine.
“David Roth.”
“Who?”
“The man you showed me on your phone. The one who took Ben’s place. I do know him. His name is David Roth.”
“And why didn’t you tell me that before?” said Pine.
“Because I wanted to think it through. In fact, that’s why I’m on my way to Russia.”
&nb
sp; “Why? Is Roth Russian?”
“No. But he knows a lot about the country.”
“How do you know him?”
“He’s very well known in specific circles.”
“What circles?”
Fabrikant sat up straight and gazed directly at her. “David Roth is one of the world’s foremost WMD inspectors.”
Pine and Blum exchanged glances. Pine said, “Roth inspects weapons of mass destruction?”
“He has quite the storied past. You see, his father, Herman Roth, was one of the lead inspectors during the START One inspections that this country did with the Soviet Union commencing back in the nineties. Both sides agreed to reduce their nuclear arsenals, and that involved on-the-ground inspections and verifications. The Soviet Union collapsed during that time, but the inspections continued, and the reductions were completed at the end of 2001. And David grew up to eventually do what his father had done.”
“So why would a WMD expert want to ride a mule to the bottom of the Grand Canyon?” asked Pine.
“I have no idea. But it is worrisome.”
“I’d say that was the understatement of the year. I told you that an overthrow of our government by insiders might be in the works.”
“Are we sure it’s only insiders involved?”
Pine, who had been about to take a swig of her beer, slowly lowered the bottle. “What are you getting at?”
Fabrikant looked around and then said in a low voice, “The Russians tried to sway the last presidential election using a variety of tools: social media, the planting of false stories, voter suppression efforts, etc.”
“That’s been well documented.”
“Yes, but that may have just been step one.”
Pine sat forward. “Meaning their plan contained multiple steps?”
“Everything the Russians do is long-term. In that regard, they’re much like the Chinese. Now, Americans are geared to think shortterm. Look at American business, for example. It exists only on a fiscal quarterly basis, because the powers-that-be on Wall Street say it has to.”
Blum said, “So you’re saying that what happened during the last election might be simply the opening salvo?”
“Look at it this way: They attacked our democratic election process, but in the aftermath of that something else has happened.”
“What?”
“Many Americans have come to distrust our institutions. They don’t trust the Congress or the media.” He pointed a finger at Pine. “Or the FBI.”
“So where does that leave us?”
“History has shown us that when people stop believing in their institutions, the government often gets toppled.”
Blum said, “Surely that could not happen here. Even you said before that we’re not a banana republic.”
“To which I would respond, every other country always says that, until it does happen to them,” rejoined Fabrikant.
“What sort of Russian involvement are we talking about?” asked Pine.
Fabrikant shrugged. “I don’t know precisely. But there are some Americans in high places who admire the Russians. They think their model of governing is better in some important ways. They think the same about the Chinese, who can make decisions and instantly carry them out. Whereas democracy is messy and inefficient and often comes to a complete standstill. That makes an autocracy quite a tempting template of governance.”
“Not for me, because in order to have that, you have to give up your freedom,” retorted Pine. “I’ll take the mess and inefficiency.”
“You give up your freedom in part,” countered Fabrikant. “For benefits you otherwise would never have. I’m not saying I agree with that concept. I don’t, in fact. But it’s not so crazy that others don’t believe in it. I can tell you, quite explicitly, that many in power do.”
“So, you think the Russians have moved on from remote cyber assaults to working with certain parties in America, with the goal of turning our country into something like theirs?” said Blum.
“That’s a succinct way to put it, but accurate in all essential respects,” replied Fabrikant.
Pine and Blum exchanged another glance.
Pine said, “So, your trip to Moscow?”
“To find out if my theory is right. I’ve spent considerable time there and have certain contacts in critical places. I should be able to find things out.”
“And what if you find out your theory is right?” said Blum.
“Then I come back here and work to stop it.”
“But we could be reading about the overthrow of the government in tomorrow’s paper for all I know.”
“We still have to try,” said Fabrikant.
“Oh, I’m not giving up,” said Pine. “I just think we need to speed things up.”
“How do you propose doing so?” asked Fabrikant. “I can’t run over there and start screaming from the heavens about a plot to overthrow the U.S. government with Russian assistance. I’d disappear.”
Pine checked her watch. “Okay, you still have time to catch your flight. You have my number and I have yours. Let’s keep in touch.”
Fabrikant seemed surprised by her acquiescence. He said, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We don’t know what tomorrow holds.”
They rose and walked together to the gate, where they ran into two uniformed men.
And then all bets were off.
CHAPTER
42
Washington Metropolitan Airport Authority.
That was what the emblems on their uniforms and their shiny badges said.
There were a pair of them, lean, muscled, veined forearms, each with dead-eye stares, each with one hand on the gun belt buckle and the other close to the butt of the holstered pistol.
The man on the right looked at Pine. “Special Agent Pine?”
Pine inclined her head, her eyes running from the top of the cop’s head to his feet. She returned her gaze to his face. “What’s up?”
The other cop said, “We’ve got instructions to take you in and hold you.”
“Instructions from whom and hold me for what?”
“We weren’t given those details, ma’am, only to take you in and hold you until persons come for you.”
“Where do you intend to hold me?”
“We have a facility here.” He glanced at Fabrikant and Blum. “And your friends, too.”
Fabrikant said, “I have a flight to catch.”
The first cop shook his head. He took his cap off, revealing his buzz cut, and wiped his face. He replaced his cap. “No can do. Sorry.”
Pine said, “Your instructions said ‘friends and acquaintances, too’? ‘Take and hold’?”
“We just do what we’re told, ma’am. Please come this way.” He pointed to a door to his left. It was a secure door requiring a key card entry.
Pine glanced at it and then looked around the crowded airport. “Okay, let’s go.”
They escorted them to the door where one of the officers swiped his card and opened it. They passed through into an empty hallway.
“Where to now?” asked Pine. “You have a holding cell down here somewhere?”
“That’s right.”
“Can I make a phone call?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Just following instructions.”
“You say that a lot.”
“I say it because it’s true.”
“Can I talk to a superior then?”
“Why? You have a complaint?”
“Yeah, I do, but on second thought, I’ll just deliver it directly to you.”
Pine landed a roundhouse kick to his head that dropped him on the spot. When he tried to get up, she put him down for good with a brutal elbow jab to the back of his head. He fell heavily to the floor and didn’t move.
When his partner reached for his gun, Blum already had hers out and pointed at his head.
“Just keep your hands right whe
re I can see them, and we don’t have a problem. You make a grab for that gun, I will shoot you very, very dead.”
She had assumed a classic Weaver’s shooting stance that demonstrated quite clearly that she could easily execute on her threat.
“You’re making a big mistake,” growled the man.
“Christ!” exclaimed Fabrikant. “You just attacked a cop.”
“That’s right, she did, now put the gun down,” the man said to Blum.
“That won’t be happening,” said Blum.
Fabrikant said, “Please do as he says. We could get shot.”
“If I put down my gun, we will get shot,” replied Blum.
Pine pulled her weapon and said to the man, “On your knees, now.”
The man exclaimed, “You’re in a world of trouble, lady.”
Pine flicked her pistol. “On your knees. I won’t ask again.”
The man got on his knees.
As soon as he did, Pine clipped him on the back of the head with the butt of her pistol. He grunted in pain and fell forward, unconscious.
With Blum’s assistance, she pulled the men together and zip-tied them.
“Brings back fond memories of that rest stop in Tennessee,” noted Blum. “Men doing stupid things. It never seems to have an end.”
“Oh my God,” cried out Fabrikant. “You attacked two police officers.” He added angrily, “And you made me an accessory. I could go to jail.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Pine.
“But I saw you do it. You can’t deny that.”
“That’s not her point,” said Blum.
Fabrikant snapped, “Then please elucidate the point, because it is not obvious to me.”
“Her point is that they’re not real police officers,” said Blum.
Fabrikant retorted. “What are you talking about?” He pointed down at the men. “They’re in uniform, for God’s sake. They were taking us into custody.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Pine. “They’re fakes.”
“How do you know that?”
Blum pointed to the chest of one of the men. “No name tags. Big mistake number one. No cop forgets their name tag. In fact, you don’t get cleared to go on duty without it. Have to have a face with a name for lots of reasons.”
“And they’ve got on the wrong shoes,” said Pine, pointing at the men’s loafers. “Those are no-no’s for active duty time.”
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