by Ethan Jones
“When did you leave the FSB?”
“Shortly after your operation in Moscow. After what happened, everything went downhill…”
“How’s the shoulder?”
Derzhavin snorted. “I was lucky to have a great surgeon. He fixed it very well.” He looked at the right arm, then moved it slowly, as if to prove his point. “Full range of motion.” Derzhavin’s face tightened. “It’s all healed now, but the pain returns, once in a while, mostly when it rains. A reminder of you.”
Justin said nothing for a long moment. “I was running an operation, and it was nothing personal. I hope you understand…”
“Of course, I understand. Why wouldn’t I? After all, we’re all reasonable creatures, right?” He cocked his head toward Tiana and gestured with his hands toward the G Wagons. “And we’re running an operation here. So, this will not be misunderstood as a personal attack against you, or your country.”
Justin’s eyes turned into small slits. He stared at Derzhavin for a long moment, then looked at Tiana. “What does this mean?”
Tiana said, “Isn’t it clear? We want the traitor back, and we’re ready to retrieve him at any cost.” She stressed the last word more than necessary.
“You wouldn’t dare attack the diplomatic post of a friendly country, like Canada.”
Tiana said, “Our preference would be to resolve this diplomatically. Hand him over, and we’ll forget this ever happened. Whatever he might have told you, water under the proverbial bridge, as you say.”
“And if we don’t?”
Tiana shrugged.
Derzhavin took a step forward. “We’re determined to get him back, Hall. This is a matter of pride, as well as precedent. If we allow Sokolov to escape, you can imagine the exodus…”
“But attacking the Canadian embassy—”
“We will not be attacking anything,” Tiana said. “But Helsinki can be dangerous, even for, no, especially for, diplomats…”
“This goes beyond the sense of duty and honor,” Derzhavin said. “For some of us, it’s personal.” His eyes flared up with fury.
“A man ought to know his limitations,” Justin said. “This is impossible, even for the Russians or whatever thugs you’re using…”
Tiana said, “Keep telling yourself that, Hall, and you’ll be mistaken and gravely disappointed.”
“And hurt, seriously hurt,” Derzhavin said.
Justin shrugged and looked away from Tiana’s frowning face. “Are we done here?”
“If you’re clear on our demand. Bring Sokolov here and enjoy Helsinki in peace and quiet. You have twenty-four hours. You understand?”
Justin nodded. “I understand.”
“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it,” Tiana said.
Justin said nothing.
Tiana said, “Questions?”
“No, it’s all clear.”
“Good. Hand me my gun, and you can go.”
Justin returned to his car and brought out Tiana’s Grach pistol. He retraced his steps back to the vehicle and drove forward and around the embassy. On the other street, two silver G Wagons were parked close to one of the side entrances. Justin wondered if they were full of Russians, or Russian-employed mercenaries, awaiting their orders.
Will they really attempt to retrieve Sokolov by force?
He thought about it for a long moment, but had no certain answer. The Russians were known to be patient and surgical, when they wanted to be, and impulsive and reckless, when they wanted to be. What will it be this time? He shrugged. Whatever it is, the boss needs to know about this. Then, we’ll have to deal with the politicians.
He sighed and used the Toyota’s Bluetooth system to dial Moretti’s secure office line. His phone rang a couple of times, then he said, “Justin, I was about to call you…”
“Yes, well, there has been a new development. It relates to Sokolov.”
“I also have an update about the defector. Go ahead…”
“I just finished a meeting with the SVR agent in charge on the ground and her lackey. They made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that they want Sokolov back.”
“That was to be expected.”
“Right, but what we didn’t expect was the threat in case of our refusal.”
“And what is that?”
“All-out war.”
“What?”
Justin nodded. “Yes, and they seem very serious.”
“How serious?”
“They showed me their gear. They’re trained, and they have the right motivation.”
“But will they do it?”
“I would bet on it, if I were a betting man.”
“Tell me everything you know.”
Justin gave his boss a brief description of the conversation with Tiana and Derzhavin.
Moretti said, “We’ve got to move Sokolov right away before—”
“Bad idea. That would trigger the Russians’ reaction—”
“We’re past that point. By bringing Derzhavin in, they’re making this personal.”
“It doesn’t change anything.”
“For us, maybe, but this has more meaning for the Russians.”
“Yes, they’ve made that clear.”
Moretti didn’t speak for a long moment. “This complicates things. Do you think they were trying to intimidate us?”
“No, it didn’t feel like that. Besides, that’s not the Russian way. Not in this case, and not when Derzhavin is involved. He knows me; he knows how we operate.”
Moretti said nothing for a beat.
Justin asked, “What do you have on the defector?”
“A CIA report. I’ll forward it to you right away. He seems to be the real deal.”
“Has he changed his mind?”
“No, he’s still determined to speak only to you. So you’d better waste no time, since the clock is running…”
“And once the twenty-four hours are up?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Justin didn’t like the vague reply. He was a man of planning, especially in such dismal circumstances. It didn’t feel right to promise the defector protection, squeeze him for intelligence, and then toss him back to the Russians. “Sir, his life is in our hands—”
“No, Justin, that’s where you’re mistaken.”
Justin bit his lip. He had been told twice now that he was mistaken , but he didn’t feel like it. How can doing the right thing be a mistake?
Moretti said, “The defector took his life into his own hands when he decided to switch sides. He knew what he was doing, and that the Russians wouldn’t take his actions lightly…”
“But he didn’t expect us also to deal with him treacherously—”
“Where did you get that idea, Hall?” Moretti’s voice bit sharply.
Even if the tone hadn’t changed, Justin expected nothing good when someone called him by his last name. It made him feel small, powerless, like when he was a little kid in school, having to obey his teachers. At least, when they were looking.
Justin’s boss said, “I only said we haven’t made a decision yet. Talk to the defector, secure intelligence, so we can confirm how valuable he could be to us and our allies. Then, and only then, we can make an informed decision about his future.”
Justin’s deep frown remained on his face. That wasn’t the response he had been awaiting, but it wasn’t the worst option either. It was clear that Moretti wanted to save the defector, but he couldn’t make that commitment. Not now; maybe at a later moment, but definitely not now.
“I understand, boss.”
“Wonderful. Call me as soon as you get a shred of intel.”
His boss sounded eager to end the call, so Justin said, “Aren’t we going to discuss the airport situation?”
“Yes, that’s still a crisis, but not very high on the priority list.”
“How’s the girl?”
“Still fighting for her life, but doctors are confident the worst is over
.”
Justin heaved a sigh of relief. He wanted to ask about the delay in receiving the order to seize Najjar, but his boss was already in a bad mood. Plus, the reasons were no longer as important. So Justin said, “What is the Finns’ reaction?”
“As you’d expect, Hall. They didn’t appreciate you shooting things up inside the airport, but they understood you stopped a terrorist attack.”
“How did the Syrian get his gun past security?”
“SUPO is still investigating, but they suspect he had an accomplice.”
Justin nodded. SUPO was the Finnish Security and Intelligence Service, and Justin had recently concluded a joint operation with them, which had landed three terrorists in jail. The Finnish team was always disciplined, meticulous, calculating. “Perhaps more. Have they checked the cell downtown?”
“They’re doing it as we speak.”
“And the southside safehouse?”
“They raided it about thirty minutes ago. Empty, but they’re going through the gathered evidence.”
“How are we assisting them?”
“We’re not, at least not right at this moment. Your hands are full with the defector. And you'll need the full support of the team, if we’re moving Sokolov.”
I’ll need more than two guys to make it out alive , Justin thought, but kept that to himself. He liked that his boss hadn’t excluded the exfiltration option. If Sokolov proved to be a valuable asset, he would need to be protected. But at what cost? “I’m headed to the embassy to assess the situation and to interrogate our man.”
“You do that. I’ll call ahead and smooth things out with Fiske and his people, so that you have carte blanche.”
“That would speed things up.”
“Call me as soon as you have some intel.”
“Will do.”
Justin ended the call and rounded the corner, going toward the Canadian embassy.
Chapter Six
Inside the Canadian Embassy
Pohjoisesplanadi Street
Helsinki, Finland
Sokolov was taken to a small conference room on the second floor, near the back of the building. It seated four people comfortably around a square-shaped, reddish-brown table, and there was enough room for two or three people to sit or stand near the door. His hands were cuffed in front of him, and he was resting them on the table. His left arm was dressed in grayish gauze. The embassy had called a trusted surgeon, who had cleaned the defector’s wound. The bullet had gone clear through, and there were no bullet fragments or fractured bones. Sokolov hadn’t lost a large amount of blood, and the doctor had given him pain relievers.
The defector was sitting with his back against the window, whose blinds were wide open. An empty porcelain coffee cup and a half-empty water bottle were to the right. Someone had pinned a visitor’s card on the defector’s chest, on the left side, right above the pocket of his gray jacket. The top button of his beige shirt was undone, and he had loosened the thick knot of his gray tie. Sokolov’s hair was disheveled, his face was pale, his eyes were weary. The air was stale and thick with anticipation mixed with a certain amount of distrust.
Justin opened the door and looked at Sokolov, who didn’t stand up. “I’m Justin Hall.”
Sokolov craned his head toward Justin and gave him an unimpressed glance. “Where have you been?”
Justin frowned. Not the best way to start the conversation. “I was held up, by something important, related to this, to you.”
“The SVR knows I’m here—”
“I know.”
Justin nodded to one of the aides who had escorted him to the conference room, against Justin’s objection that he could find the way just fine. “Get me the guard.”
A tall, muscular man dressed in black pants and a black sweater stepped inside the room.
Justin said, “Uncuff him.”
“Can’t do that, sir,” the guard said in a polite, yet firm, voice. “Orders.”
“Whose orders?”
“Mr. Fiske, sir.”
Justin sighed. He had just finished a brief, yet painful, conversation with Fiske. The man had a problem accepting anyone’s authority besides the ambassador within the embassy grounds. Justin’s boss had explained the sensitivity of the situation to Mr. Fiske, but still he insisted that he, and he alone, was in charge of the situation. “Look. I’ve talked with the deputy. He’s allowed me to proceed with the interview.” Justin pointed at his chest. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.” He tipped his head toward the aide. “He led me here. Everything is good.”
“I understand that, but—”
“Don’t make this difficult and waste time. Take off his cuffs…”
The guard said nothing. He seemed to contemplate his options for a beat, then nodded. He produced a key and removed Sokolov’s handcuffs. “I’ll be just outside,” the guard said in a menacing tone, mainly to the defector.
“Good. As I may need you soon. Thank you.”
Justin looked at Sokolov, who was rubbing his chafed wrists. “Do you want anything? Water, coffee?”
“Coffee, black, and a cigarette.”
“Smoking isn’t allowed anywhere inside the embassy or in the yard,” the aide said in a scolding tone.
“All right, then.” Justin nodded. “We’ll go for a walk, outside the embassy, so he can get shot in the head. Is that what you want?”
The aide flinched. “No, but—”
“Just get him his bloody cigarettes. The kiosk around the block.”
The aide hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“Can you get his coffee?” Justin asked the guard.
“No, but I’ll get someone to do that.”
“Good. Knock before you come in.” He waved for the aide and the guard to leave the room and closed the door behind them. He walked to the window and pulled the blinds shut while staring at the grim face of the guard.
Justin turned around and sat across from Sokolov. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to fix it, but without much success. Then he took a long swig from the bottle.
Justin said, “They’ll be here in five minutes, but we can get started. Why me?”
Sokolov studied Justin’s face for a moment. “I expected you to be older…”
“Does my age matter?”
“No, not really. It’s your reputation that counts.”
“And what is my rep?”
“You’re tough, but fair. And honest, and someone who understands.”
“Understands what?”
“How things work … in situations like this.”
Justin leaned forward and peered deep into Sokolov’s eyes. The concerned, tired look seemed to be genuine, but he was an SVR operative, trained to keep his composure under the toughest of situations. It still had to be proven that he was a defector. Many a time the Russians, and Western intelligence agencies, had used the old trick: offering up an agent who pretended to be a traitor, coughing up nothing but inaccurate or misleading information. “I don’t recall meeting you…”
“You have a sharp memory. We’ve never met in person. But I’ve seen you in action.”
“Where and when?”
“Moscow. A few months ago. When you came for one of your many operations. Remember Romanov?”
Justin nodded. “How can I forget him?”
“Well, the oligarch had connections that ran deep inside the FSB and the SVR. I was one of those connections.”
Justin held Sokolov’s eyes for a long moment. “Do you know what happened to Romanov?”
Sokolov nodded. “I’m sketchy on the details, but I know how he met his end.”
“A well-deserved end for everything he had done…”
“No disagreement here. I was working with the FSB on a joint operation in Chechnya. You came to Moscow again, to interrogate one of the prisoners the FSB had detained. I’ve studied the reports. I know how you operate.”
“And that made you decide to defect in Helsinki?”
&nbs
p; Sokolov nodded. “Yes, but it wasn’t supposed to be this way. I … I had planned to come in quietly, but … things happened.”
Justin leaned back on the swivel chair. “Explain to me what happened and this situation…”
Sokolov sighed. “It all started about a week ago, when I realized I was being framed for an operation gone wrong. You’ve probably heard about the shooting in east Helsinki…”
“The hairdresser killed in her parlor?”
“Yes. Well, the SVR suspected she had ties to a couple of Ukrainian crime bosses, suspected of financing terrorist operations in Russia. Well, she was innocent. Once the story hit the media, the scandal became international. Now, the question is who the scapegoat will be...”
“Not you.”
“Not anymore. When given the choice between life and certain death, the answer is obvious.”
“What life can a defector have, when he’s wanted, no, hunted like a traitor?”
“A quiet, simple life, somewhere in Canada. Toronto, Vancouver, one of the suburbs there. I’ll fit in well. Rarely go out. Live the rest of my life in peace.”
“Peace? Really?”
“All a man can do is hope, right?”
Justin nodded and leaned forward. “I’m sure you know other operatives besides me. Why not the CIA, or MI6?”
“Their embassies are under tight surveillance. I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it inside one of those embassies alive. As you know, I barely made it alive inside this one. I tried to arrange for a couple of meetings with my American counterparts, but they fell through.”
“They didn’t trust you,” Justin said matter-of-factly.
“They didn’t trust me, and I wouldn’t blame them. Defectors are always shrouded in suspicion.”
“They are.”
“I know, and that’s why I’ve brought sufficient evidence to prove my claims. I’m not a double agent; I’m not here to trick you or your service. I just don’t want to die.” Sokolov’s voice turned shaky, just like his hands. “A brutal, painful death in the hands of SVR’s thugs…”
Justin nodded slowly. “What do you have?”
Sokolov drew in a deep breath. “Everything to make sure I’m a valuable asset. Names of agents operating in Western Europe, the United States, and Canada. Locations of safehouses. Plans for operations against dissidents or defectors. As you probably know by now, I had access to the president’s office and his security advisors’ team.”