by Steven Gore
“What do you think?” Gage asked.
“They’re not mine,” Ninchenko answered.
Gage thought for a moment. “Maybe it’s somebody who wants to keep an eye on Gravilov.”
“Hadeon Alexandervich?”
“Could be.”
“How about Alla? You think they got to her somehow?”
“She asked me what vehicle we were in, but I didn’t tell her.” Gage glanced at the monitor. “If these guys knew someone was out here, they’d have parked behind us or on the other side of the hotel with a view back this way. That way they could watch everything on the street.”
Gage and Ninchenko watched on the monitor as one of the men leaned over and kissed the other on the lips, then got out of the car. The driver sped away.
“Not everything is a conspiracy,” Gage said.
“Or at least not our conspiracy,” Ninchenko said, raising his teacup. “To love.”
“L’chayim.”
Ninchenko pointed at the monitor. “She’s pulling up.”
“Turn on the recorder,” Gage said. “I want to put together a little piece on how Scoob Matson spent his winter vacation.”
Ninchenko reached over and activated it.
The wrought-iron gate slid open to permit Gravilov’s G55 to enter the hotel grounds. Ninchenko tracked it until it stopped at the entrance, then drew back for a wide view of the vehicle, the hotel entrance, and the sidewalk in between. A driver and a bodyguard stepped down and immediately reached to open the two passenger doors. Alla got out of the one closest to the entrance and glanced back toward the street. Her eyes scanned the cars and trucks along the curbs, but didn’t come to rest on the van.
The driver reached for Matson’s briefcase as he came around the back of the SUV, but Matson pulled it away. The bodyguard retrieved the luggage and followed Matson and Alla up the stairs and inside.
Ten minutes later an enormous silver Mercedes sedan approached the hotel. It hesitated until the gate slid open, then drove onto the grounds. Gravilov got out, then walked around the left side of the building, out of Gage’s view.
“Where’s he going?”
“The restaurant is downstairs. It has an outside entrance.”
“What do you suppose they’re having?”
“I know it’s not this.” Ninchenko reached into the refrigerator and withdrew three ham sandwiches and three Cokes.
“It’s okay,” Gage said. “We have better ambience.”
“And company.”
They clinked their Cokes, then woke Kolya.
“How much time do we have?” Ninchenko asked after they finished eating and Kolya was once again curled up in the corner of the van.
“It depends on when they make the deal and when Matson’s bank confirms that the payment arrived.”
Gage’s phone rang.
“It’s me,” Alla said.
“Stop—where are you?”
“In the hotel room.”
“Turn on the radio. The room is probably bugged.”
Gage heard the rustling of Alla walking, then Ukrainian pop-rock music in the background.
“They gave us a suite on the floor above the lobby,” Alla said. “It faces the park. There’s even a balcony.”
“What’s the layout?”
“The suite runs the length of this side of the hotel. There’s a bedroom, a dining area, and an office. The balcony is off of the office.”
“How’s Matson?”
“He confessed to me that people were murdered. He thinks Gravilov and Hadeon Alexandervich might kill him whether they get their money back or not. Everybody who was killed was in a position to hurt Gravilov. Stuart said he did something stupid but won’t tell me what it was. He just went into the bathroom and threw up his lunch. He’s pretending that he caught the flu, but the truth is that he’s getting really scared.”
Gage knew Matson wasn’t the only one, and pretending otherwise would destroy her trust. “And you are, too.”
“I think I better get away. There are rumors that the opposition is planning mass corruption trials in January if they win, so Hadeon Alexandervich and Gravilov have nothing to lose. I have cousins further east, near the Russian border. I can hide there.”
“They’ll hunt you down in no time. You know too much. You’ve known too much since Gravilov visited you in London. You’re safer being close to us.”
“But I’ve got to come up with something to tell Stuart, otherwise—”
“How badly does Gravilov want the low-noise software?”
“Very.”
“Tell Matson to give Gravilov the video amplifier software after the money arrives, but hold back the low-noise. Say it’s in London. Make sure he erases it from his laptop.”
“I don’t think he knows the software well enough to tell which is which. He’d be too nervous anyway, afraid he’d delete the wrong thing and end up in worse trouble.”
“Is there a high-speed Internet connection in your room?”
“Yes.”
“Will he give you time alone on the computer if you tell him you can figure it out?”
“He may be too afraid I’ll make a mistake and then Gravilov will—”
“Is he still throwing up?”
Alla paused and Gage heard the faint flush of a toilet. “Yes.”
“Then he’ll give you all the time you need.”
“But I know nothing about this kind of software—he’s coming out.”
The line went dead.
Gage called Blanchard.
“Is there an easy way to differentiate between the video and low-noise software on Matson’s laptop?”
“Sure. But files could be spread over several different directories.”
“How long would it take to delete just the low-noise amplifier software from Matson’s laptop?”
“How competent is the person doing it?”
“She studied engineering, but knows nothing about this kind of code.”
“She probably couldn’t.”
“What about you?”
“Get me connected and I’ll give it a shot.”
Gage thought for a moment. He didn’t come to Ukraine to help Matson commit a crime, but to stop him. Then an idea. Maybe he was wrong when he told Ninchenko on Castle Hill that he couldn’t do everything.
“I want to use Matson as a Trojan horse,” Gage said. “Can you do that, too?”
Blanchard didn’t respond right way. Gage imagined him sitting in his little workshop, his mind racing toward a solution.
“It’ll be difficult…let me think…The changes will have to be very subtle. If they’re too gross, they’ll be spotted on a first pass…Remember when we talked about embedded software testing? There are three parts. The hardware, which I assume is nearly assembled, given the timeframe you mentioned. The software. And the device with the software embedded…” Blanchard’s voice trailed off. Then the sound of his hand slapping his workbench. “I got it. Do you know where SatTek’s previous test data can be found? It would be in something called the metrology database.”
“On the backup tapes at my office. Alex Z from my office will bring them to you and set up a remote connection to Matson’s computer.”
Gage heard the beep of an incoming call an instant before he broke off from Blanchard.
“He’s back in the bathroom,” Alla whispered. “I suggested he hold back the low-noise amplifier software. He likes the idea.”
“Were there negotiations during lunch?”
“No. They’ll finalize the figure this afternoon.”
“We can’t let that happen. I don’t want them transferring the funds during banking hours in Switzerland today. Matson needs to make the low-noise proposal, then move the meeting to dinner.”
“But I don’t think I can delay them. Gravilov doesn’t take me seriously.”
“Then play mother to Matson. If you pretend he’s sick, he’ll keep believing it and will be convincing when he postpones his
visit to the plant. There’s really no reason to go, they’re just using it to pressure him.”
“Then what?”
“Tuck him in bed, then get his laptop connected to a service called Connector1+1. Enter SatTek as the user-name and eight 2s for the password. As soon as you’re hooked up, someone at my office will take over. You just sit there and pretend. Leave the laptop on when you’re done.”
Gage rang off, woke up Alex Z, and sent him to Blanchard’s.
Alla called three hours later.
“We’ve got a problem.” Her voice was panicky. “Gravilov came to the room and saw that the computer was hooked up and unplugged it. He said the line wasn’t secure. I couldn’t connect again because he left Hammer with me while they met in the bedroom.”
“How long was the connection active?”
“An hour and a half. I’m sorry. I messed up. I should’ve blocked his view.”
“You can’t think of everything. We’ll have to try again.”
“We won’t have a chance. Stuart told me that Gravilov is insisting that everything be settled tonight. Stuart is angry at himself because he didn’t resolve this when they argued about it in London. He’s also angry that he let himself get trapped here. Gravilov told him that the president has readied contingency plans to ground all commercial aircraft if he decides to move against the opposition. Stuart asked me if I knew of anyone who could get him out of Ukraine.”
“Does he know who your father is?”
“I won’t ask my father for help,” Alla snapped.
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Sorry. I’m a little on edge…No, I haven’t told him.”
“How is Matson’s mental state otherwise? Can he pull this off?”
“He’s now sounding more angry than scared. I think we’ve given him a plan that makes him feel like he’s in control.”
Gage disconnected and called Blanchard. “How’d you do?”
“I don’t know. The line went dead just as I was checking to see whether he hid backups somewhere else on the drive. He would’ve been an idiot not to.”
“Stand by. We can’t give up on this. There’s too much at stake.”
Gage and Ninchenko watched Gravilov drive from the hotel grounds, heading north toward the Dnepr River.
“What’s next?” Ninchenko asked.
“We wait for Gravilov to come back and make a deal.”
“But is Matson predictable? Will he follow your plan?”
“Amateurs are never predictable if left to their own devices. But they can be guided.” Gage reached for his cell phone. “Let me find out how well I’m doing.”
“How are you feeling?” Gage asked Burch when he answered his home phone in San Francisco.
“Stronger every day. Where are you?”
“In a little Ukrainian icebox.” Gage looked up at Ninchenko and smiled. “But I’m in good company.”
“Did the KTMG Limited account I set up for Matson work out okay?” Burch asked.
“That’s why I’m calling. Can you find out if any money arrived?”
“Sure. I set it up through a friend. He receives all of the wire transfer documentation by e-mail from the bank.”
“Call him on your cell.”
Gage heard Burch set down his home phone.
“Maurice, this is Jack Burch…Fine, getting along better every day…I’m calling to verify that KTMG received some funds…I think I’d rather stand by. The client is anxious about this.”
Gage heard Burch pick up the home phone again.
“He’s retrieving the e-mails…By the way, my firm called about a partners’ meeting next week. They’re pretty nervous. Franklin Braunegg’s class action suit is getting a lot of press coverage—hold on.”
Gage heard Burch speak into his other phone, then come back on the line.
“There were four incoming wire transfers,” he told Gage. “About fifteen million dollars altogether.”
Gage smiled to himself. “Perfect.”
“Ten from Guernsey,” Burch continued. “Five from the Cayman Islands.”
“The ten is probably stock profit and the five is Gravilov’s down payment.”
“And Matson has moved two hundred thousand in three transfers to Barclays in London.”
“Probably feathering his nest.”
“Will you have the rest of the money seized?”
“Not yet. I told him to move only a little at a time. At worst we’ll lose a few hundred thousand more, but we can track that later.”
Burch laughed. “Clients are always trying to trick me into laundering their money, now I seem to be doing it all on my own. If this ever gets into the papers—”
“That’s what you said when we were in Afghanistan. We got away with it and you got a nice little plaque. I saw them give it to you.”
“I don’t think I’ll get a plaque for this one.”
CHAPTER 70
At 7:15 P.M. Gravilov’s car reappeared at the hotel. Gravilov, his driver, and Razor marched together toward the restaurant, like soldiers into battle.
Gage pointed at the monitor. “Looks like Gravilov has decided he’s done talking.”
“I don’t understand the delay,” Ninchenko said. “Why didn’t Matson just…what’s that word they use in your cowboy movies? Skeedle?”
“Skedaddle.”
“That’s it, skedaddle. Why didn’t he skedaddle?”
“One, he’s not sure he can get away. Two, it dawned on him too late that he’d have to settle for less than half of what he was expecting for the software. And three, he had a hard time accepting that he’d lose his investment in the plant.”
“And your idea of selling just the video amplifier software is his ticket out.”
“I hope that’s all it takes.”
Gage and Ninchenko watched the monitor for the next hour as a thick mist settled in, dampening the air and haloing the hotel lights.
There was no movement. They’d succumbed to surveillance daze, until startled by Gage’s ringing phone.
“They made a deal,” Alla said. “Five million more. Gravilov is supposed to transfer the money first thing tomorrow morning. Matson expects the bank will fax the confirmation to the hotel by 11 A.M.”
“Can you reconnect the computer?”
“I tried, but the line’s dead.”
“Where are they now?”
“They’re downstairs drinking like they’re best friends.”
“Maybe it’s just afterglow.”
“What’s afterglow?”
“You know, the birds and the bees.”
“Oh, I get it.” She laughed. “Except it’s Stuart that got buggered. He just doesn’t know it. And I haven’t figured out how Gravilov did it.”
“Does Gravilov know the video amplifier software is here?”
“Stuart told him his lawyer in London will e-mail it to him tomorrow after he gets the wire transfer confirmation. He claimed that the other software is in the States and only he has access.”
“Did Gravilov believe him?”
“I couldn’t tell. Right now all he cares about is getting what he needs for the missile firing on the Black Sea.”
“Then what?”
“Stuart wants to get out of Ukraine as fast as possible. I made reservations for us on a flight from here to London. At 3 P.M.—and Gravilov is okay with it. He promised Stuart that the flight would get off the ground.”
“Why’d Gravilov agree so easily?”
“I have no idea. Maybe he thinks the video software can be checked quickly enough. And get this, Gravilov has already turned the deal for the low-noise software to his advantage. He wants it delivered to Moscow behind Hadeon Alexandervich’s back, just in case the opposition wins—they’re coming back. I’ll call later.”
Gage watched Gravilov’s driver move the car from the parking area to a position in front of the hotel entrance. The driver got out, but left the motor running, the car backlit by the hotel en
trance lights. He walked to the rear passenger door and stood by to open it. Steam rose from the tailpipe and swirled past him. Gravilov walked down the steps, opened the front passenger door, and got in.
“Why’s Gravilov getting into the front seat?” Gage asked, looking from the monitor to Ninchenko, who shrugged his shoulders. Gage looked back—and got his answer. A struggling Alla, gripped between Hammer and Razor, appeared at the entrance.
“Gravilov has taken her hostage,” Ninchenko said.
Gage watched as they half carried Alla down the stairs. From the jerky movement of her head Gage guessed she was searching the street for the protection he promised.
“Get your people over here,” Gage said, glancing at Ninchenko. “There’s no way we can follow them in this van without being spotted.”
Ninchenko yelled in Ukrainian into his cell phone.
Razor slid into the car first. Hammer pushed Alla inside and followed her in. The driver then sped off into the half-lit streets of Dnepropetrovsk.
“One car will be here in thirty seconds,” Ninchenko told Gage. “What do you want them to do?”
Gage let the pieces reorganize themselves in his mind. “Not start a war, not in Gravilov’s town. We’ll lose. Just stay with them.”
Ninchenko gave the order, then said, “Do you think she told them about us?”
“If she had,” Gage said, shaking his head, “they would’ve snuck out a back door.”
Ninchenko turned off the video camera.
Gage thought back on his conversation with Alla. Matson and Gravilov as drinking buddies. He looked back at Ninchenko.
“Gravilov didn’t take her hostage,” Gage said. “The little runt gave her to Gravilov as security for the low-noise software.”
“Will he deliver?”
“I’m sure he’s telling himself that he will, but I don’t know.”
Gage paused, trying to anticipate Matson’s next move, thinking that under this kind of pressure, Matson’s actions would depend more on character and instinct than tactical ability.
“He didn’t give a second thought to the people who got killed until his own life was in danger,” Gage said. “He’s the kind of guy with the rare capacity not to think.” He pointed at Ninchenko. “I want to hear from your people every time they make a turn until they arrive at their destination.”