by Alex Lukeman
"You ignored your intuition?"
"I knew I could handle him if something happened."
"You share the bed of our president. Is that not enough?"
"You can't be serious. Orlov is part of the job. He's not someone I sleep with by choice."
Vysotsky was suddenly angry. He slammed his hand down on the desk.
"Do you think Orlov doesn't watch you? If he finds out you were whoring around in a notorious nightclub, he will wash his hands of you. You'll end up drawing duty in Novosibirsk."
"I wasn't..."
"Be quiet. I don't want to hear your excuses. You are a ranking officer. You will follow orders. I need to know this will not happen again."
Valentina wanted to throw what was left of her vodka in his face. Always, someone was telling her what to do, what to wear, who to sleep with.
"Well?"
She took a breath. "It won't happen again, Comrade General."
Vysotsky looked at her. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him.
"Good. Then we will say no more about it. I will inform you when we have more information about the man who gave Zelim the order to kill you. Dismissed. Get yourself cleaned up."
Valentina stood and placed her glass on his desk. She saluted, turned on her heel and left the room.
Smug bastard. I wonder how he'd like sleeping with Orlov and his garlic breath.
Her mind obligingly created a brief image of the two men in bed together. She shook it off. As she walked away from Vysotsky's office, she knew something had changed.
Today Vysotsky had made it clear that she had no personal life, only life as an officer of the state. Before today, she hadn't allowed herself to fully consider what that really meant. She could no longer deny the truth of what she'd become.
She wasn't valued as a person, only as an instrument of policy. She was an assassin, a dagger pointed at the enemies of the state. Or she was a whore for the service, useful for her sexual attraction to powerful men. She'd asked Vysotsky if she wasn't supposed to have a personal life, but the truth was she didn't have one.
She caught a glimpse into her future and she didn't like what she saw. If she was ever going to find something approximating happiness, something had to change.
The way things were going, she'd never be happy. She felt trapped by the powerful men who controlled her life, who had always controlled her life. It made her angry. It made her feel vulnerable. But what could she do to change it?
The elaborate wall she'd built inside her mind to protect herself against the insanity of her life was beginning to crumble.
CHAPTER 25
The collapse began in Europe, with the failure of the European Common Bank. The writing was on the wall for anyone who cared to read it, but negative prophecy in the financial markets was not encouraged.
The roots of the problem went back several years to the bank's temporary Securities Markets Program. The ECB had purchased bonds to stabilize the failing Spanish and Italian banking systems. But the size of the growing debt soon made the program unworkable.
A new, permanent program was created to replace it, dubbed Outright Monetary Transactions. It was an innocuous sounding name for a program with no size limit and no limit to its duration. It meant the bank could now spend an unlimited amount of money to buy bonds directly from euro zone nations who were in financial trouble.
By itself, the risky purchases would not have been enough to put the bank under, even though the amounts secured by the bonds amounted to many billions of euros. But the ECB had also instituted an aggressive program to auction off low interest loans to euro zone members. Many of those loans had been issued with little or no consideration for the creditworthiness of the borrowers. Now defaults were pouring in at an alarming rate. The fortress of European financial stability was beginning to show cracks.
It was Portugal that tipped the balance. The country had run up a debt of more than a hundred and thirty-five percent of its gross national product. It owed somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 billion U.S. dollars, most of which was covered by the ECB.
Forced by the bank into an austerity program that had brought its populace to the brink of revolt, Portugal defaulted on its loans. The news pushed the Dow down six hundred points. Two days later, Ireland followed suit. Ireland had a better debt to GNP ratio, but had relied heavily on government spending and borrowing to keep its economy afloat. That debt came to almost 200 billion euros.
Suddenly, the ECB found itself in the middle of a perfect financial storm. It was more than the bank could handle. On Friday afternoon, after the close of the trading day in New York, the ECB announced it was going into reorganization. The most important bank in Europe was bankrupt.
Panic hit the floor of the stock exchange the moment the opening bell sounded the start of trading on Monday morning. By the time the computers shut everything down a few hours later, the Dow had lost thirty-one percent of its value, with no sign that the precipitous decline was about to taper off.
The chaos in New York triggered panic worldwide. It was like a deadly virus no one knew how to stop. As the day progressed, the major exchanges around the world watched their value plummet. The combined losses eclipsed anything that had ever happened before in market history. If the trend continued on the next trading day, it would make the crash of 1929 look like a minor adjustment.
That Monday afternoon, Elizabeth was in her office. She'd watched the financial bloodbath taking place in New York with deep unease. She'd been hurt by the steep decline, but had never fully trusted the glittering casino called the stock market. Most of her savings weren't invested in the market. She owned the brownstone in Georgetown and some valuable land in Arizona. She had gold and silver coins worth several thousand dollars, accumulated over the years. There was some good jewelry.
Elizabeth had never taken advantage of her inside knowledge to enrich herself. Everything she owned, she'd earned by hard work. Greed had never been one of her vices. She was confident she could weather the storm, but she knew many would not.
She wondered how Clarence had survived the day. She knew he was heavily invested in the markets.
Stephanie came into the office.
"You've been watching the news about the stock market?" she asked.
"Yes."
"It's terrible. The talking heads are saying it's 1929 over again. A new Black Monday."
"They're right," Elizabeth said. "It doesn't look like it's going to stop tomorrow, either."
"I kept pestering Lucas to invest more of our money, but he wouldn't listen. Now I'm glad he didn't."
"These things don't happen by chance."
"You think somebody caused this on purpose?"
"It's possible. Then again, I don't see how anyone could have predicted the events that caused the ECB to go under."
"The ECB is a big deal."
"A very big deal," Elizabeth said. "I think we should put Freddie on it. See if he can find something that indicates someone triggered this on purpose."
"Why would anyone do that?" Stephanie asked.
"For the usual reason. It's a way to become very rich. In '29, some people were waiting to pick up key investments at bargain basement prices. It wasn't an accident. They made a killing."
"I'll get Freddie to look into it."
"What brings you upstairs?"
"We have a lead on the people who came after you."
"Oh?"
"One of the men you shot was in the system. He was suspected of being part of a murder for hire organization that works out of LA."
"The mob?"
"No. These guys operate independently under cover of a legitimate business. They call themselves 'Solutions, Inc.' They're incorporated as an LLC."
"Cute," Elizabeth said.
"They have a reputation for neutrality and efficiency. It takes a lot of money to hire them, but they're choosy about what jobs they'll take. They won't kill just anybody."
"I suppose I should be flattered
," Elizabeth said.
"You're important and you have security. That makes you a high risk target. Someone forked over a lot of money to point them at you. I'm guessing the fee was a million or more."
"Don't forget Nick and Selena. They were targets as well."
"I was thinking about that. What would happen if they'd succeeded? If they'd killed you and Nick and Selena?"
Elizabeth didn't need time to think about it. "It would finish the Project."
Steph nodded. "I think that was their goal. They didn't try for Ronnie or Lamont, just you and Nick. Leadership."
"We need to find out who ordered the hit."
"I'm working on it. I figured the best way to find out who hired them was to track the money. I've got Freddie on it now."
"What has he found out so far?"
"Let's ask him. Freddie, have you made any progress?"
Do you mean progress with my inquiries into the financial records of Solutions Inc.?
"Yes."
Current assets of the corporation amount to $57,004,373.18.
"Who said crime doesn't pay?" Elizabeth said.
Many people have said that, Director. Would you like to hear a list of everyone who has been quoted as saying that crime doesn't pay?
"No thank you, Freddie. Have you discovered who paid for the attempt on my life?"
Payments to the Corporation are dispersed through thirteen offshore and European accounts. $2,500,000 was deposited through an account in Grand Cayman Island three days ago. I believe that was payment for the attempted assassination.
"Have you discovered where the payment came from?"
The money was deposited into a private bank in Hamburg and then transferred to the Grand Cayman Island account. Authorization for the transfer was made by the director of the bank.
"What's his name?"
Hans Beck.
"Who made the deposit?"
I have not yet identified the individual who made the deposit.
"Good work, Freddie. Continue to examine the bank's records. See if you can find any other connections to Solutions, Inc."
The bank has sophisticated security protocols I have not encountered before. There are additional records I have not yet evaluated.
"I'm sure you'll find a way to get through the protocols."
Do you want me to update you once I have penetrated their security?
"Yes, Freddie, I do. Notify me or Stephanie immediately when you succeed."
Processing.
"If there's anything there that will help, Freddie will find it," Stephanie said.
CHAPTER 26
On Tuesday morning Charles Morgan was getting ready to go to Argentina. The day before he'd watched the stock market meltdown with deep satisfaction. Today, three hours after the NYSE had opened on the East Coast, the downward trend was momentarily halted as the Federal Reserve poured money into the market to stabilize it. But Morgan knew it was only a temporary reprieve. By the end of the week what was left of the world economy would be in ruins.
It was always rewarding to see one's plans bear fruit.
It hadn't taken much to push everything to the edge. Between Hans Beck, al-Nazari, and himself, it had been relatively simple. The market crash looked as though it had happened overnight, but the groundwork had been laid months and years before. World economic collapse was an essential aspect of the plan to initiate war. The group had only been waiting for the right time.
The time was now.
Morgan was in his San Francisco office, looking out over the city and the Pacific. It was one of those rare and beautiful days when the sky was deep blue and infinitely clear. The sun washed the city in clear, shimmering light, like something from a pleasant, opium dream. He relished the view, knowing it was the last time he would ever see it.
Too bad it has to be destroyed. San Francisco is a priority target on everyone's list.
San Francisco and California would soon be history, along with the rest of the United States. So would the failed concept of the nation state. The old order had to be terminated, cleansed by fire. Then the new could take its place.
Once the war was over, Phoenix would emerge as the only organization capable of bringing order out of the postwar chaos. Enough undamaged assets would be left in the southern hemisphere to ensure an industrial base and the labor to man it. A new era of world leadership would begin, with Phoenix at the helm.
Morgan's Gulfstream was prepped and waiting for him. Flight time to Córdoba in Argentina was about eighteen hours, counting in a refueling stop along the way. At Córdoba, they'd refuel again and continue on to San Carlos de Bariloche, the nearest airport to his final destination on the lake in the mountains of Patagonia. The others would join him there.
With a final glance at the panorama of the city and the ocean beyond, Morgan left his office for the last time. His receptionist looked up as he emerged.
"You can take the rest of the day off, Julie," Morgan said. "I won't be coming back to the office today."
Julie Barnett was in her late twenties, a single mother with a five-year-old child. She was an attractive woman, but Morgan had never thought of trying to seduce her. Office affairs never worked out well. He'd considered her too valuable to lose.
"Sir, you're leaving?"
She looked shocked. San Francisco was the nerve center of Morgan's financial empire. The previous day had made Black Monday look like a Disney movie. How could he be walking out when the market was in turmoil?
Morgan took out a set of keys. He was in a good mood and he liked Julie. She'd been an excellent worker. It was unfortunate that he couldn't take her with him to Argentina, but she wasn't the kind of person they needed there. There was a slim possibility she might survive, if she were out of the city.
"You've been working hard. I'm going to be out of town for the next week or so." He handed her the keys. "You've earned some time off, Julie. Take your son up to the corporate cabin in the mountains. It's well stocked. You won't need anything except personal items."
"That's very generous, sir."
"I'm glad someone can use it. Why don't you stay up there until I get back? I'll call you the day before I return. That will give you plenty of time to come back to the city and get ready for work."
Julie looked up from behind her desk at this handsome, wealthy man, and wished she was just a little bit younger, a little more attractive. She was surprised at his gesture. He'd never gone out of his way to be nice to her before. She supposed he knew about her son because of the picture on her desk. It certainly wasn't because they'd ever had a conversation about her life.
She could hardly believe her luck. The rest of the week, more. Until he comes back. Alan will love it.
"If you say so, sir. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Have a good time up there. As I said, you've earned it."
Morgan started to leave. As he reached the door he turned to her.
"Goodbye, Julie."
"Goodbye, Mister Morgan."
That was odd, she thought. It almost sounded as if he weren't coming back.
CHAPTER 27
DCI Clarence Hood was eating lunch in the wood paneled executive dining room on the seventh floor at Langley. Lucas Monroe came in and sat down at the table. Monroe usually wore his game face when he was working, not letting anyone see what he was feeling. It was a measure of trust that he didn't worry about that when he was with Hood. It was easy to see something was bothering him.
"Just coffee, please," Lucas told the white-jacketed waiter.
Hood waited until the man brought the coffee and returned to the kitchen.
"All right, Lucas, spit it out. You've obviously got something on your mind."
Before he'd moved into the rarefied atmosphere of the seventh floor, Lucas Monroe had been one of the most decorated CIA officers to ever take the field. Hood had seen his potential and shepherded his career, eventually moving him up to his current job as Director of National Clandestine Services. He'
d never regretted it. If Lucas had something to say, it was worth listening to.
"Early this morning I got a priority communication from FOX HUNTER."
FOX HUNTER was a deep cover asset in the Federation Navy, currently stationed with the Pacific Fleet in Vladivostok.
"He says that Orlov and his generals are preparing to go to war against us."
Hood almost choked on his chicken.
"They wouldn't dare."
As he said it, Hood remembered the note from Volkov about Status 6. Lucas's next words sent a chill up Hood's spine.
"FOX HUNTER says Admiral Petroff has deployed Status 6. We know they have at least one of those weapons ready to go. If his report is true, it's a game changer. It's a confirmation of Kolkov's warning."
Lucas knew about Kolkov and the message concealed in the CD, but Hood hadn't told him about the meeting with the president and Senator Palmer. Now he filled Lucas in.
"They just blew it off?" Lucas was incredulous.
"They did."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Would it have made any difference? You've got enough on your plate without worrying about asshole politicians."
"Jesus, what is it about these people? Sometimes I think they're working for the other side."
Hood knew the executive dining room was swept regularly for listening devices. But paranoia had become a habit long ago. Even here in the inner sanctum of the CIA, Hood was uncomfortable telling Lucas that he thought the president and the chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee were part of a conspiracy to betray the country.
"You done with your coffee?" Hood raised his eyebrows. "It's a beautiful day outside. Why don't we take a walk in the garden?"
Lucas had learned long ago not to be surprised by a sudden shift in a conversation. When he'd been active in the field it had sometimes meant the difference between life and death.