Black Harvest (The PROJECT) (17 page)

What he hadn't wanted them to see was the connection to the Americans. Besida told him it had been an American who'd sent Gelashvili after the woman in Greece. Maybe it was Lodge. Alexei didn't know who it was and Besida was no longer available for interrogation.

He thought about Harker. Could she be trusted to go after Lodge? It was in her country's interest, as she'd pointed out to Yakov. In Russia, an agreement like that would be considered treason. Alexei knew Harker was no traitor. He admired her, what she had accomplished with her small organization. His file on the Project ran for many pages.

Her interests coincided with his own. The irony of two secretive and opposed intelligence organizations cooperating in common cause did not escape him. She had been an enemy before. She would be again. What was she now?

He thought about her conditions. He'd meet them, for now. With one addition. He wanted Korov involved. He wanted an unfiltered source on the scene. If Harker agreed, they could make a deal. It would show sincerity on her part. She wouldn't like it. If she didn't agree there were other options.

Demeter had to be uncovered and stopped. Demeter was also a golden opportunity to get inside a key American unit, to find out how they thought, to measure their capabilities, probe for weakness. If there was a god of espionage, he must be smiling. If their positions were reversed, if he were in Harker's place, he would have little choice. Exposure of the plot to the Kremlin raised the specter of nuclear war. She would have to agree.

He took out the number Harker had provided and picked up his phone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

"A Russian?" Nick was angry. "Come on, Director."

"Calm down, Nick. It's part of the deal. Gives us a chance to learn something. This man isn't just any Russian." She passed Korov's file over. "He's Zaslon. We've never gotten close to them before."

Lamont and Ronnie studied Korov's picture.

"He reminds me of my DI." Ronnie passed it to Selena.

"He's a professional. Just like the rest of you. Special Forces, lots of combat experience. He speaks English. He won't be a drag on the team."

"He's not part of the team. He's an outsider. I don't give a shit if he's Superman, it's my team. We're a family. This guy's the enemy. We don't even have a mission, yet." Carter felt his blood pressure rising. "Why do we need him tagging along? We don't have time to work this guy in. He doesn't know how we do things."

Harker's eyes tightened. "Make time, Nick. This isn't an option. As far as that goes, Major Korov is highly skilled. You might learn something."

"God damn it..."

"That's enough, Nick."

He threw up his hands in surrender. "I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it. I expect your full attention and cooperation."

"He takes orders from me."

"That's a given. For what it's worth, Korov is the one who showed up in Bulgaria. In the church."

"Mmm."

"Nick, I understand. It's unheard of. There's not much trust on either side. I have to make sure Vysotsky doesn't go to the Kremlin with that video. He has to make sure we're really going after Lodge. He's sticking his neck way out here. So am I. Korov is the deal maker."

"Does Rice know about this?"

"No."

"When does Comrade Korov get here?"

"They're not comrades anymore. Today. This evening. I booked him into the Marriott. I want you and Ronnie to meet him tomorrow and bring him here."

"You put him in a hotel? Bring him here? For Christ's sake, Director."

"Here." She gave him a hard look. "They already know where we are and who we are. He won't see anything he doesn't already know or suspect. I want you to get a sense of who he is. Bond with him."

"You want me to buy him a beer while I'm at it?"

"That's a good idea. He might prefer vodka."

Harker smiled.

"What's so funny?"

They all laughed.

"Bonding and togetherness with the Russian comrade. I'll remember this."

"I'm sure you will."

CHAPTER FORTY

Selena opened the door to her new condo. The place was empty and clean and smelled of new construction. She loved that smell. Ready for life, full of potential, a blank canvas for new possibilities. Sunlight streamed through the windows. It filled the empty rooms with light and spilled gold over the hardwood floors.

She closed the door and stood for a moment looking at the space. The kitchen opened onto the living area across a curving expanse of polished granite. It was one of the things she loved about the design. She walked across the room. Her footsteps echoed in the silence. The floor was on top of the building. Somewhere a siren wound through the streets far below and faded into the distance.

Her things from San Francisco would arrive in a few days. She hadn't had time to look for furniture yet. Selena pictured the Klee on the living room wall. Or maybe in the bedroom. She'd arranged to upgrade the alarms. A former CIA operative and friend of her uncle would take care of it.

She toured the bedrooms, the baths, came back to the kitchen. She leaned against the counter. What would it be like, living here? With Nick, if that worked out? She'd been on her own for a long time. She liked her privacy, her space. She liked doing things her own way. She liked arranging things as she pleased.

She was having strong second thoughts. Nick had done nothing about subletting his apartment. Why was she pushing it?

She opened the sleek refrigerator. It was empty except for a six pack of bottled water. She took one of the bottles and closed the door. Walked over to the counter with the bottle.

She took in the beautiful space and suddenly felt depressed. That happened a lot recently. Feeling depressed. As if all the light was leaving.

Her life had changed so much since her uncle's murder, since she'd met Nick. She could never have imagined it, not in her wildest fantasies. It was as if she'd stepped through an invisible barrier into an insane video game, where nothing was fixed and people stayed dead for real.

She didn't think much about her safety. She thought that was weird. She ought to be worried. But she wasn't. When something bad went down, she became the moment. She was the moment, doing whatever she had to do. It wasn't a conscious thing. After, she might think about what it meant, what she'd done. That was part of the problem. Nick had told her once not to think about things before they happened or much about them after. Easy for him to say. It wasn't easy for her. She didn't think it was really as easy for him as he made it out to be. Otherwise, why did he have nightmares? Now she had them too.

Maybe it was all meaningless. Maybe what she did wouldn't change anything. But if it was meaningless, she couldn't justify the deaths she caused. Not only that, she was good at killing people. It bothered her. She'd always tried to be the best at whatever she did. It carried over into killing.

In the beginning, the first time she'd killed someone, she'd felt guilty about not feeling guilty. It wasn't like that now. Now she just felt plain guilty.

Did she really love Nick? Maybe she was just hooked on his Alpha Male competence. Not to mention the sex. He took her places in bed like no one she'd slept with before. Not that she'd had many lovers, she'd never been promiscuous. Where would it go, after he moved in with her? Where would it be ten years from now?

If he's still alive. If I'm still alive. What about children?

The thought was unexpected. Unwelcome. She couldn't imagine children here. She couldn't imagine children anywhere. Her gut twisted. If she kept doing this there would never be children. Any path she walked with Nick didn't have children on it. She didn't know if she wanted children. Her mind was a stew of conflicting thoughts.

"Screw this," she said to the empty room.

She let herself out. She thought she'd have a drink somewhere. Maybe she could meet Nick for dinner and they could pretend they were like everybody else.

Normal.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Nick stepped out of the entrance to his building. He was on his way to meet Selena at a restaurant near DuPont Circle. He thought about what he'd say to her. About living with her in the new condo.

A gleaming black Cadillac limo sat by the curb, motor idling. Nick recognized it as the armored Presidential model. Not something you saw every day. A $300,000 car. Five inch thick armor. Run flat tires. Turbo charged 6.6 liter diesel engine. Security countermeasures beyond most people's conception.

The windows were black. At the same time he saw the limo, he saw a man on either side of him. His hand moved toward his pistol.

"Please don't, Director Carter. You are in no danger." The man on the right had a deep voice, calm. "Someone wants to speak with you."

Both men wore dark overcoats and sunglasses and earpieces. They might have been Secret Service, but something told him these two didn't work for the Treasury Department. They kept out of reach and made no sudden moves. Their hands were outside their pockets and away from their bodies. Both men wore their hair short. Both had hard, experienced faces. Nick assessed his chances. He figured it at about 50/50 in a fight. He'd never reach the gun in time.

He stopped on the sidewalk. A driver in a dark suit got out of the car. He had sunglasses and an earpiece, like the others. He came around to the curbside and opened the rear door. Waiting.

"If someone wants to talk, why not call?" Stalling. He felt the adrenaline kick in.

"Director. I assure you, there is no harm intended." The voice of the man was educated. "If you would please get in the car."

"I have a dinner engagement."

"Ms. Connor has been advised that you will be delayed."

"And if I choose not to get in?"

"As you wish, Director. No one will attempt to force you, but you would be making a mistake." No menace in the comment, just a recitation of fact.

The car door beckoned. If they knew about Selena, knew where she was, they were efficient, organized. A possible threat if they wanted to be, maybe to Selena. Nick weighed his options, shrugged, got in the back seat of the Cadillac. Sometimes you had to go with the play. The door closed.

The windows were opaque. The interior was lit by overhead halo lighting. The back of the limo stretched comfortable and long, with the smell of new leather. The leather was black. The limo had a black glass partition in front, behind the front seat and the driver. Another partition of thick, black glass ran all along the length of the rear compartment. Nick had never seen anything like that in the back of a Cadillac. He could not see the driver, or whoever sat on the other side of the rear seat. A speaker grill was set in the glass by his head.

The car started moving, quiet, soft. Nick couldn't tell if the men had gotten into the car. He could not see outside through the black glass. The inside of the door lacked a handle. He was along for the ride until someone decided he could get out.

It was like riding in a luxurious closet. Or a coffin.

They hadn't taken his gun, but the glass was probably bullet proof. He'd end up shooting himself with the ricochet. They hadn't threatened him. That was interesting.

"I apologize for the intrusion, Director."

The voice from the speaker startled him. It was altered by electronics. It could be the voice of a man or a woman. Hell, it could be the voice of a child. Nick didn't think a child sat on the other side of that glass.

He waited. The obvious questions were unlikely to be answered.

Nick heard the person on the other side chuckle. Probably a man, he thought.

"Not curious about who I am?"

"Would it do any good to ask? Why the dramatics?"

"It seemed best this way. Appointments and phone calls are not secure. This vehicle is. May I call you Nick?"

"You can call me whatever you like. Who are you?"

"You may call me Adam."

"What do you want?"

"I sent you the video."

Nick didn't have to ask what video.