‘I want to go to that hotel and show a photo around, but Cramer said you wouldn’t be able to spare much time on this.’
Davis smiled. ‘Cramer? He doesn’t know what I do. I’m just a resource as far as he’s concerned. He reckons we just sit here and press a few keys and a face pops up like magic. Frankly, if we’d found your man I’d have been amazed.’ He looked at the dead screen and said, ‘Come back with anything before seven this evening and I’ll still be here. I’ll start checking flight lists from Dublin.’
‘Don’t you have to check with Cramer first?’ Harry was hoping the man would say no. His wishes were granted.
‘Only if he asks.’ The light flashed off his glasses as he looked up and grinned. ‘And he said you were somebody not to upset.’
‘He’s a real joker, that Cramer.’
‘Maybe. But I want to see this through before they put me onto some other work.’
Harry stood up. ‘In that case I might get to owe you more cake.’
He left Davis and took a cab round to the Westminster Inn.
TWENTY
‘So. Here we are again. I hope you are feeling better after your exercise?’ Kraush was standing in front of Rik and pulling up the other chair. ‘We can do it again if you wish. But now we must move forward.’ He sat down and crossed his legs as if about to engage Rik in an interview.
Rik wasn’t feeling quite so relaxed. The outing to the park had been a welcome break from this ghastly cell, but it had confirmed that getting out of here wasn’t going to be easy. The man with the transmitter had stayed within easy range, and neither Irina nor Kraush had given him the impression that they were anything but highly capable and that he’d never outrun them.
‘Go ahead.’
‘Perhaps I should give you a little detail about the other project going on here. It is relevant because your failure to provide me with the information I want will result in the most serious cyber attack on your country that has ever been launched.’
Rik stared at him. ‘Why?’
‘Shall I explain? Good. But first, I want you to give me a chance to avoid the second project.’
‘How do I do that?’
‘Simple. Tell me everything you know about Cicada.’
‘The bug?’
‘Not bug, no. Cicada. Is a word. A name.’
‘I … I don’t recognize it. Where’s it from?’ He closed his eyes, trying to think. For a millisecond after Kraush said the word something had sparked deep in his memory, like a flash of light. Then it was gone.
‘No matter.’ Kraush waved it aside. ‘We can come back to that. Let me enlarge on the project I spoke about.’ He brushed something imaginary off his knee as if gathering his thoughts. ‘We can engage on three levels. One is relatively simple. It’s troublesome for the target but not deadly, a mere inconvenience. We call it random cyber disruption or RCD. Of course I’m translating the initials to make it easy for you.’
‘Neat,’ Rik muttered, trying to stop shivering but failing. ‘RCD – sounds like a transmittable disease.’
Kraush said, ‘Well, we like acronyms, too; they save so much time. The second level is strategic or SCD, and more than a little inconvenient. Then there’s the very worst – from your point of view, not ours. We call it TCD.’ He smiled, his eyes like empty spots in an unmoving face. ‘Can you guess what it stands for?’
‘Troublesome?’ said Rik.
‘We prefer the word terminal.’ He clapped his hands together, making Rik jump. ‘Terminal. Cyber. Disruption.’ He spaced the words out. ‘Everything stops. Can you imagine that? Total blackness. Every utility, the infrastructure, transport, banking, communications – even the military.’ He leaned forward and tapped Rik’s knee. ‘And all because of you.’
‘Me.’ Rik wondered if this idiot had a white cat tucked away somewhere. He’d met people like Kraush before. If they were more dangerous than others it was because they thought they were invulnerable and therefore were unpredictable.
‘Yes. In an adjacent building we are setting up one of the most intensive hacking projects we have ever undertaken. We have gathered some of the foremost cyber warriors we can find, and they will be tasked with building first, the random attacks, then the strategic level, followed, if we do not get the information we need, the total shut-down of everything you can think of in your home country.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Poof. Impressive, no?’
‘You’re fucking nuts,’ Rik said. ‘What do you think this is – a Bond movie?’
‘Please. Bond is entertainment for fools and fantasists. This is for real.’ His eyes glittered. ‘We like to think of this as a revolutionary first strike in modern electronic warfare.’
Rik couldn’t even begin to frame a response, the concept was so crazy. It would bring the country to its knees. Instead he said, ‘Was Nebulus in on this?’
‘Of course. At first, anyway.’ He shrugged. ‘But then she lost her nerve and refused to play. She ran away to London, we think because she knew a certain former officer in the Security Service whom she must have believed could help her. And we couldn’t have that.’
Rik felt a cold spear go through his chest. The unimaginable must have happened. Nathalie had died trying to see him. There was no other explanation. Somehow Kraush and his helpers had intercepted her messages to him, and from that point on she had been doomed.
He hung his head, wanting to scream and rage at the cruel injustice of just how close they had come to meeting. She had first suggested a hotel address where they could meet, then changed her mind to a club near Leicester Square. He’d been OK with that; he wasn’t sure how he’d recognize her or she him, but she said she would know him. And that had been enough.
She hadn’t arrived, but two days later he’d got a message to go to an address in Minsk, Belarus. It had turned out to be a rotting and deserted apartment block due for demolition. Nathalie wasn’t there but this bastard was.
The suggestion to come to Minsk had been a set-up. Somehow they’d read enough into the messages to realize that Nathalie was going to speak to the authorities, something they had to stop at all costs. And he was sufficiently familiar with the Russian intelligence system to know that his name and prior service with MI5 would have been easy to find. That had sealed her death sentence.
‘You killed her.’
‘Actually, no. She was involved in a traffic accident. But the effect was the same.’
‘You bastards.’ Rik felt sickened. He didn’t know whether to believe a word this man was saying and wanted to jump on him and pound him into the floor. Anything to wipe that humourless expression off his face. But he knew he wouldn’t get more than halfway off his chair.
Kraush ignored the insult. ‘All you have to do to prevent the cyber attack is to tell me what you saw in those files. A reference to Cicada – a person, I think. Someone of minor importance at the time … maybe it didn’t seem relevant to you.’
‘So it’s a code name.’
‘It doesn’t matter what it is. Tell me what the file said and who it related to and we can do without all the unpleasantness that I, with the tools I have at my disposal, can bring to bear on you … and ultimately on your country’s infrastructure.’
‘I told you I don’t know!’ Rik shouted. ‘I’ve never heard of anyone called Cicada. Why don’t you believe me?’
Kraush leaned forward again, placing himself with unnerving lack of concern within easy reach. ‘Because we know from the digital traces you left behind when you went into those files and what you saw. That is how they caught you, is it not?
Rik stared at him. How the hell did he know this much? Whatever had been discovered about his penetration of the files would have been locked away and buried, the lessons learned and used to prevent anyone else following the route he’d taken. This was getting crazier by the minute. Was this Cicada a British agent in a strategic position inside the Russian system? Because suddenly it didn’t take rocket science to know that this had all
the hallmarks of a Moscow operation to uncover a mole.
‘Oh, there is one proviso,’ Kraush added, twisting the knife. ‘And you must consider it equally. Our threats do not stop at a cyber attack. No. They become more personal than that. You’re not the first person to say they will cooperate with us and change their mind. Nebulus did that. If we find you are trying to be … difficult, then be sure we – I – will respond appropriately.’ He gave a thinly-veiled smile. ‘It’s only fair to warn you.’
‘What does that mean?’ Rik muttered. ‘You can’t hurt my family – I don’t have any.’
‘We know that. But there are alternatives in everybody’s life.’ He took out a phone and pressed the keys. Then he turned it to Rik. The screen showed a street scene, with a few vehicles and pedestrians. The area looked prosperous, the buildings smart and well-kept, with black iron railings and steps leading up to smart front door. It was also disturbingly familiar.
London, Rik realized. It was a street in London … maybe Chelsea or Fulham.
‘What’s this?’
‘Everyone has at least one person they value,’ Kraush replied. ‘I believe yours was your mother. But now she is gone, I think it is this man. Am I right?’ He was pointing at a figure in the background. A man with a purposeful stance and solid build, dressed in casual slacks and a coat.
‘I don’t know him.’
‘Really? We pulled his name from your computer. His name is Harry Tate and he’s a former MI5 officer … like you.’ He pulled a second mobile from his pocket. It was Rik’s own phone. ‘You used this to send a text to him just after we met you at the apartment block. Remember?’
‘No.’
‘This isn’t your phone?’ Kraush frowned dramatically at the screen as if he’d made a mistake. ‘Let me see … yes, there it is – the WhatsApp text you sent to him. The one which reads, Building One, Apartment twenty-four. Fourth floor. Stepyanka District, Minsk, Belarus. You didn’t send this?’
Rik didn’t answer. There was no point.
Kraush continued. ‘You’ve worked together many times on private projects.’ He turned off the phones and leaned back. ‘You think we don’t keep track of people from your intelligence community – just as they do with us?’
‘So?’
‘So my question is, if we send people to this Building Number One, to apartment twenty-four on the fourth floor, to wait for Mr Harry Tate, what should we do with him? Should we bring him here to keep you company? Or should we treat him as an enemy of the state?’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘Personally, I think we should just shoot him and dump him in the gutter. And then ask our colleagues in London to deal with his friends … and so on. You see where I am going with this? Put simply, if you don’t cooperate, we won’t simply punish you; we’ll reach out to Mr Harry Tate and everyone he holds dear.’
TWENTY-ONE
After his talk with Ferris, Kraush went in search of Irina. He had a lot to do and time was getting short. He was already under pressure to get Ferris to remember what he’d seen, but pushing him too far and fast might result in brain shut-down. For now he had to focus on the other part of the operation.
‘Anything?’ Irina asked. She was waiting in one of the anterooms, checking and cleaning the working parts of a Serdyukov SPS semi-automatic pistol. A box she was using as a table held a small can of oil, rags, brushes, a magazine and several rounds of 9mm ammunition. Her movements were fluid and competent.
‘Not yet. But he will talk eventually. For now we have other tasks to complete.’
‘The other project?’
‘Yes. The group responsible will be arriving shortly after dark. I estimate an hour from now. They will be housed in the warehouse next door where the electricity supply is good. There will be a coach bringing them and their equipment. We need to get them settled in and operational as quickly as possible.’
‘What is their purpose?’
‘That does not concern us,’ Kraush lied easily. It had been made very clear to him that Irina was not on the need-to-know list, for reasons he didn’t fully understand but could hardly object to. The need for cut-outs was usually the best explanation; a result of the level of paranoia among those who commanded him and his colleagues in the GRU. He didn’t think it necessary, knowing Irina as he did, but he would abide by it. The people arriving on the coach were recruited hackers from various locations around Europe. It was not normal GRU policy to use outsiders, but the nature of the operation meant they were expendable. Something else Irina didn’t need to know. ‘They will be here for a couple of days, then moved to another location for security purposes.’
‘Why here? Won’t the extra activity expose us to risk?’
‘No. The opposite, in fact. If their operation is compromised by foreign intelligence services it will provide excellent cover for us, with time enough to leave here and find another base. In fact I already have another building in mind.’
‘Clever. But a waste of talent if they get scooped up, surely.’
‘There are plenty more out there,’ Kraush muttered curtly. His tone cut off any argument, but he knew she was angry at being kept in the dark. She had probably guessed what was being planned when Kraush had told her he was searching for a suitably remote building with an electricity supply, close to the city and its internet infrastructure. But she would also know that showing too much curiosity in details she hadn’t been informed about was a fast way to be side-tracked and relegated to dog duties like Alex. Even so, she countered by asking, ‘Is it a high-level operation?’
Kraush looked at her with those cold eyes. She was probably jealous of the fact that he had the confidence of people higher up the GRU ladder than she did. ‘Do you really want to know?’
She shook her head. Annoyed, jealous, but subservient.
‘Good.’ He checked his watch. ‘I need to look over the building they will be using, in case there are any two-legged vermin to eject.’ They had already discouraged a handful of local drunks and addicts who had been using the deserted factories as squats, but some of them were too far gone to get the message first time round and needed a sharp reminder.
‘What about Alex?’
He decided to throw her a bone. ‘Deal with it as you see fit. You’re right – he’s a complication we don’t need. But no noise, understand? Our presence here only extends so far.’
He was referring to the fact that the real reason for them being in Minsk would have been kept deliberately vague from the wider Belarus authorities. While the government could undoubtedly guess what was being planned by the use of the group of hackers, they had chosen to turn a blind eye and not ask too many questions. Had that been known by the foreign media, it would have been viewed as a not-so-subtle form of bullying by the larger country, symptom-atic of the generally shaky relationship existing between the two nations.
‘Fine,’ Irina said. ‘Can we get a replacement?’
‘You think we need one?’
‘If the British get lucky in their search for Ferris it would be useful to have some support. Just in case.’
‘Already done,’ he replied. ‘I’ve asked for two extra bodies, but they must be our own people. They will be arriving with the hacking group later today.’
He could see by her face that she was pleased at the prospect of dealing with the FSB man. Her final words confirmed it. ‘You won’t hear a thing.’
While Irina was enjoying the satisfaction of having convinced Kraush that Alex was a problem, she would have been even more pleased with her views if she had seen what the guard was currently doing.
The door to Rik’s prison opened and Alex stepped inside carrying a bottle of water.
‘I come to check the tracker,’ he said, placing the bottle to one side. ‘Put your leg out, please.’
Rik did so. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked. He was wondering if he could get this man to talk. He was obviously lower on the pecking order than the other two, probably a gofer. But gofers were sometimes
eager to show they were better informed than outsiders might think, especially if they had a sense of resentment against those higher up the ladder. ‘I know Irina and Kraush.’
‘They call me Alex,’ the man replied.
‘You speak good English. Did you learn it in the FSB … or SVR?’ The SVR was the Russian foreign intelligence service.
Alex scowled and didn’t respond at first, busy checking the bracelet on Rik’s ankle was secure. Then he looked up with his chin thrust out. ‘I am FSB,’ he said proudly. ‘We have excellent language training facilities. Also I was stationed in London for two years.’ He gave a half smile. ‘My girlfriend is Sonia, from Billericay. You know Billericay?’
Rik nodded. ‘Sure. Everyone knows Billericay. So Sonia’s an Essex girl?’
‘Yes. Essex.’ Alex gave a soft chuckle. ‘Essex girls are fun. I hope to go back there soon. I was stationed in London for two years. Her name is Sonia. From Billericay.’ He paused with a frown, ‘Did I say that already?’
‘Yes, you did.’
Alex touched the side of his head, and Rik saw where a line of scar tissue had cut a vivid swath through his scalp. ‘Sometimes I forget.’ He stopped speaking as a metallic clatter echoed through the building door. A door had closed in the distance. He stood up quickly and pushed the bottle of water closer to Rik with his foot.
‘Wait,’ said Rik softly. ‘Is there any way of getting this thing off?’ He nodded at the bracelet.
Alex shook his head, his expression almost regretful. ‘I cannot help you. It’s too dangerous,’ he murmured. ‘You must do what they say otherwise they will hurt you. Me also.’
‘What? You’re colleagues, aren’t you?’
‘No. FSB would not have brought you here. These two are GRU, Directorate Six – part of their direct action unit.’ He pulled a face. ‘They are not good people.’
Damn. It confirmed what he’d suspected. The Sixth Directorate was a branch of Russian Military Intelligence responsible for cyber ops. They were highly specialized with support units for protection and heavy lifting. Now everything Kraush had said about a cyber attack made sense. They weren’t the only cyber unit Moscow had up its sleeve, but the GRU had the muscle and the know-how. But why were they so interested in what he might have seen in MI6’s archives files? And why bring him to this god-forsaken place when they had fully-equipped bases in and around Moscow? Unless it was a ploy to use Belarus as cover.
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