Agent Ashill looked as if he were dangerously close to smiling. “You barely had the door closed before he was on the phone. He’s on his way to meet him in fifteen minutes. Haugen is right, you did a bang-up job, girl.”
Although everything had gone according to plan, Ian continued to feel a sense of uneasiness. “Leah’s in danger until you arrest the senator and his handler,” he said. “Once you do, the Russians will know the jig is up and killing her won’t be worth the risk of further exposure.”
“Sit tight then, this should be over soon.” Agent Ashill looked down at his watch and spoke into his mouthpiece, quietly relaying instructions to the team tasked with following Roth.
An update crackled over the radio. “Porcupine is leaving the building. I repeat, Porcupine is leaving the building.”
Leah lifted an eyebrow at Agent Ashill. “Porcupine?”
He grunted. “Thought we’d pick an animal he wouldn’t like. One low to the ground and prickly.”
A man’s voice calmly came over the radio. “Mountaineer, I’m picking up motion on top of a building northwest about 800 yards out.”
“That’s damn near half mile,” Agent Ashill muttered to himself. Then he replied, “Do you have eyes on?”
“Negative. I no longer see anything.”
But it had been there. Ian’s blood stirred, and for a moment he longed to be on top of that roof with the sniper. When it came to their military, the Americans were nearly unrivaled and Ian knew the agent on the rooftop was one of the best. But knowing that didn’t calm the itch to be in on the action instead of sitting uselessly in a van.
“Standby,” Agent Ashill ordered. Then to the technicians, “It’s probably just someone watering their pot plants.” Although he was being sarcastic, Ian detected a hint of worry in the other man’s voice. “Can you get me eyes on the location?”
Walter’s fingers were already flying across the keyboard. “Tapping into the National Weather satellite now.”
“Porcupine is hailing a cab.”
“Anything?” Ashill asked Walter.
“Need another minute.”
“A cab is pulling over for him.”
The same calm voice crackled again. “Mountaineer, something’s happening on that rooftop. The sun is reflecting off something but I can’t actually see anything.”
“Shit,” Ian hissed. “It’s a mirror! Get someone on Roth now!”
Agent Ashill was already shouting into the mouthpiece. “Pick up Roth now, now!”
“Sniper!” Walter shouted. “Satellite imaging is showing a sniper on the roof!”
Before they could speak another word there was a loud crack, and through the earpiece Ian heard pedestrians screaming and the other agents shouting as they tried to shove through terrified civilians to reach the senator.
“Stay here!” Ian ordered Leah and jumped out of the van with Agent Ashill hot on his heels. He easily outran the older smoker, and when he reached the street corner outside the Hart Senate Building he saw a crowd forming around the lifeless body of Senator Roth. He lay half on the curb and half in the gutter. The entire back side of his skull was missing.
Ian threw his back against the side of the building. He doubted Sokolov would take a shot at him—if the GRU agent had any sense at all he’d be running like hell right now, but Ian wasn’t taking any chances. The Russians had somehow discovered Leah was working with the FBI and had known there was no point in targeting her any longer, so they’d cut their losses and started cleaning house. Exposed, the senator was no longer any good to them, and they’d silenced him before he could reveal damning information.
How the Russians had known Leah was cooperating with the FBI was a mystery, but Ian suspected the tentacles of Russian intelligence reached deep into the U.S. government. Killing Roth was merciless, and exactly the type of thank you one could expect from working with the Russians. It was also smart, and Ian should have accounted for the possibility. He would have accounted for it if he hadn’t been so focused on the danger posed to Leah.
He jogged back to the van, passing Ashill on the way, but the agent was too focused on reaching Roth to notice. When he arrived Leah’s face was pale and she was visibly relieved to see him. He leaned through the open door and she dropped to her knees so that her face was level with his.
“You stay in this van and you do not get out until you have an FBI escort, do you understand?”
She nodded. “Is he dead?”
“Yes.”
“And Sokolov?”
“You don’t have to worry about him anymore. You’re out of danger now. The Russians have taken care of their own problem.”
She seemed dumbstruck. “I was just speaking to him. I . . . I got him killed.”
He pulled her out of the van and slammed the door shut so they would have some privacy. “No, honey, you didn’t. Roth was playing a dangerous game and he had been for years. He was only useful to the Russians as long as he didn’t get caught or start demanding too much. He put himself on notice when he beat his wife, and the mistakes only piled up from there.”
She nodded numbly and he gathered her close. He breathed in the scent of her strawberry shampoo and hated what he was going to say next. “I have to go.”
“What?”
He eased back, his heart squeezing at her shocked expression. “We both know that was Sokolov on the roof. I have to leave. Now.”
“Why, to hunt him down? But won’t the U.S. be looking for him? I mean, he just shot a senator!”
“Yes. They won’t find him.”
“But you will.” It wasn’t a question. She had faith in him, and it both humbled and scared him to realize how much that meant to him.
He kissed her softly on the mouth. This wasn’t how he’d wanted it to end. He’d thought they would have more time together, that they could break off the affair with some closure for both of them. He wanted to say she meant something to him, that he would come back for her.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t trust himself to know what was real and what was a product of adrenaline, and he wouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. So instead he drank her in, her disheveled hair and wide hazel eyes, and he turned and walked away.
Chapter 46
The media frenzy that followed the assassination of Senator Michael Roth was like a tidal wave that wouldn’t break. The FBI did its best to minimize Leah’s role, but she was sucked into the churning mess when she was subpoenaed to testify by an independent commission formed to investigate the senator’s ties to Russia.
Through its investigations the special committee discovered, to their frustration, that Senator Roth had been meticulous in covering his tracks during the fifteen years he’d been providing Russia with U.S. intelligence. They were floundering in face of a public outcry for answers when a thick file was delivered to the lead commissioner. It was stuffed with years worth of painstaking research on the senator, courtesy of General Whittier, the man whose son had died in Shazada’s compound. A preponderance of the information was obtained through questionable legal means and was therefore inadmissible in court, but it helped the committee form a portrait of Senator Roth’s activities that was stunning in its scope of betrayal.
One of Leah’s nagging questions about Roth’s motivations was answered in the fat stack of papers. The senator had been far too careful to accept monetary payment for his services. Instead, he’d asked the Russians to subvert the U.S. on issues when it was politically advantageous to him. General Whittier’s son had been one of those “favors.”
Six years prior, General Whittier had been a thorn in Roth’s side and the two were frequently seen exchanging verbal blows. As the head of the Congressional Intelligence Committee, Senator Roth had considered himself a superior to the three-star general and had despised Whittier for habitually ignoring his recommendations. At the time, General Whittier’s son had been with the Marines serving a tour in Afghanistan.
When Senator Roth dis
covered that Russia was benefitting from Shazada’s illegal arms dealing in Afghanistan, he saw an opportunity for a win-win. One of Russia’s agents would go “rogue” and delay Shazada’s capture, giving the Russians the time they needed to shift operations before the U.S. shut Shazada down. During the melee, General Whittier’s son would be killed and the grief-stricken general would retire as a result. Once the smoke cleared, the Russians and Roth would both walk away winners.
General Whittier had indeed resigned, but in the aftermath of his grief he’d begun to suspect Roth’s involvement with his son’s death. The general had dedicated his retirement to obtaining the evidence to prove it. What he’d collected over the years was a passel of circumstantial evidence that indicated Roth’s involvement, but nothing that was substantial enough to put Roth away for good.
As for the FBI Wanted poster, the U.S. had never been convinced of Russia’s fidelity in the Shazada matter but felt it would be imprudent to broadcast their doubts internationally, especially since diplomacy between the nations was already strained. Instead they’d quietly instructed their internal agencies to consider Sokolov alive and at large until proof of his demise could be obtained. It never was.
The FBI and the special committee were successful in keeping Sokolov’s name out of the media while they worked to piece together a narrative of his assignment. From the best they could figure, Sokolov had been assigned to act as Senator Roth’s magician. Although Sokolov wasn’t Roth’s handler and didn’t have direct communication with him, he was the man who kept Roth happy by running the Russian ops that paid for his intelligence, including the operation in Afghanistan. When Roth had been snared in the wheels of the American justice system for assaulting his wife, Sokolov had been ordered to keep a close eye on the proceedings and make sure the senator’s more sensitive activities weren’t also discovered—hence his schmoozing up to Leah. Unfortunately for Roth, Leah did discover a connection. The Russians had invested a lot in Roth and hoped to maintain him as an asset, so they instructed Sokolov to silence Leah before she could share what she’d learned. When the attempts on her life failed and it was discovered she’d contacted the FBI, the Russians went into damage control mode and turned their focus on the senator.
Because Roth was no longer alive to tell his side of the story, a lot remained unknown. America would never know for sure how many missions, how many shifts in international policy, how many events had been altered by Senator Roth’s betrayal. There was no way to quantify how much information had been handed over to the Russians or what the resulting damage had been.
No one knew who else was involved and quietly selling out the country.
The realization that even in this day and age Russia still had spies deep within the U.S. government rocked the country. Suddenly every government official was suspect, and the vetting of senators and representatives became a political platform.
It would be a long time before the American people felt safe again.
Chapter 47
Leah returned to work two days after Senator Roth’s death. When she walked into the office she was carrying a bag with a scooped out bagel and holding a Frappuccino. She’d typed up her resignation the night before and thought the food might soften the blow.
She needn’t have worried. As soon as she rounded the partition that divided her cubicle from the main hallway, she discovered her desk had been cleared and all of her personal items packed into a box.
She dropped the bag on the desk, and resignation clenched in her fist, stormed to Amanda’s door. She didn’t knock before pushing the door open. She found Amanda exercising on her elliptical and having raunchy phone sex with one of her many paramours. As soon as Amanda saw Leah she ended the call with a throaty promise for the real thing soon and climbed off the machine. She grabbed a white towel from the back of a chair, dabbed the sweat from her face, and wrapped it around her neck. After drinking deeply from her water bottle, during which she kept her eyes locked on Leah’s, she capped the bottle and said bluntly, “What do you want?”
Leah gestured through the door to her empty desk. “What’s going on?”
“Take a wild guess, Parker. According to the news you’re pretty smart. I bet you can figure it out.”
Leah said with forced calm, “Why?”
Amanda’s eyes bugged. “You can’t be serious. Hmmm, let’s see. First you were due back in the office days ago but didn’t bother showing up until today. You discovered incriminating evidence while doing legwork for my investigation and then went to the FBI before consulting me, the actual prosecutor on the case. Then, because of your arrogance, you got a U.S. senator murdered. I think any one of those alone qualifies as grounds for dismissal.”
“That’s not exactly what happened.”
Amanda held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear another word. I really don’t care what happened. You’re through here. And considering how public your role in the Roth murder is, I doubt you’ll find work in this town again.”
Leah studied her ex-boss with something that felt very close to betrayal. She’d sweated for this woman, bled for her, scooped bagel insides for her, and worked herself into the ground seventy hours a week for her. And yet Amanda wouldn’t even give her two minutes to explain her side of the story.
After five long years, Leah’s paralegal career was ending with a brothel, a cardboard box, and an assassination.
Leah would have been devastated if she hadn’t walked in that morning with the intention of walking out unemployed.
Before Leah turned her back on the woman to whom she’d given five years of her life, she said, “That’s too bad. I guess you’ll never get to hear the real story. Here’s a hint: you knew the assassin.”
That ought to eat at her. Leah kicked the door shut on Amanda’s stunned face, hefted the box from her desk, and marched into the warm summer sun.
She took the day to organize her apartment and start separating out items that she would donate instead of taking with her when she moved. The entire time she worked she thought of Ian. The way he’d left had been abrupt, but his message had been clear. He hadn’t told her he’d see her again, or that he loved her, or even thanked her for a good time. He’d kissed her, and then he’d disappeared.
She understood that in leaving he’d done what he had to. Her life might be safe, but his feud with Sokolov remained unresolved. Besides, it was in his nature to hunt down the bad guys. It was what he did. He’d built a career around it, a life around it. She got that.
So why did she feel so angry every time she thought of how he’d left her?
She sighed as she tossed the study guide for the paralegal exam in the give-away box. The best she could hope for was to hear through the grapevine that he was safe and well. Beyond that, she doubted he’d contact her again. She’d have to eventually come to terms with the fact that it was over and it was time to move on.
That afternoon she scanned Craigslist and found a small, one-bedroom apartment for rent over a bakery a few miles from her parents’ house. When she called the bakery, the woman who owned the apartment was so grandmotherly and kind that Leah rented it on the spot.
Her plan was to apply to the University of Pennsylvania Law School for spring admission and find temp work at a nearby law firm in the meantime. With the media coverage she’d had more than her share of job offers, but she was tired of the D.C. scene. She was tired of the traffic, the noise, the go, go, go. She wanted to start over and make her life into something she was proud of instead of burying herself in busy work. Her time with Ian had taught her how valuable her life was, and how fleeting it could be. Tomorrow was promised to no one.
Later that night she met Destiny at one of D.C.’s upscale restaurants ironically named The Senator’s House. Destiny blew into the restaurant like a tornado, drawing nearly every eye in the house. She was a stunning woman who was confident in her own skin and it showed in the way she carried herself. She was still wearing her work uniform: a tight skirt, sky-
high heels, and a blouse that was a touch too snug across her breasts. Her hair was swept into an elegant French twist and she’d sharpened her Latin features with an expert cat eye. In comparison, Leah felt vastly underdressed in her black skinny jeans, ankle boots, and navy silk blouse, but then she always did when she was around Destiny.
Destiny power-walked straight across the restaurant, pulled Leah from her chair, and hugged her hard and long. “Girl,” she said into her ear, “You have some explaining to do.”
There were more than a few curious stares thrown their way, and Leah worried she might be recognized. She’d quickly learned that fame without the money was the pits. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”
Destiny’s gaze sharpened on a man with a bun and Birkenstocks sitting two tables away. His cell phone was lifted as if he were about to take a photo of them.
“Hey you,” she snapped. “If you take a picture of us I’ll break every finger on your hand.”
Taken aback, he lowered the phone. Addressing Leah he said, “Aren’t you the woman who took down Senator Roth? You’re like, a fucking hero, dude.”
Destiny’s canine teeth appeared in a smile of approval. “Maybe you’re not so bad,” she purred. “But you better hope no reporters show up or I’m going to think you were responsible.”
If the guy knew what was best for him he wouldn’t cross Destiny. Apparently he did, because he held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not calling anyone.”
Satisfied, Destiny turned back to Leah. “Let’s eat, and fast. I’m dying to hear what the hell happened to you in Norway.”
An unexpected lump formed in Leah’s throat at the mention of Norway. Destiny immediately noticed her distress and reached down to squeeze her hand. “If you don’t want to talk about it we don’t have to.”
“No, it’s fine. I guess I’m just not that hungry.”
Destiny nodded solemnly. “I got you, girl. It’s one of those booze-required-to-tell stories. You know, I had a late lunch anyway. What do you say we split and head to my apartment? A client just sent me a ridiculously expensive bottle of champagne and this feels like a ridiculously expensive champagne sort of occasion.”
Finding Lies Page 24