Текст книги "Agent X "

Автор книги: Noah Boyd

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

“The word is . . .” She stopped, looking uncomfortable.

After a few seconds, Kalix said, “You are bluffing.” He thumbed back the hammer.

“ . . . John Kalix is Agent X.”

The window exploded as the shot caught Kalix fully just above the ear, ripping him sideways out of the chair.

After

Vail walked up to the front door of the Sixteenth Street off-site and, knowing that it would be the last time, took a moment to admire the exterior construction of the old mansion. The weather had gotten warmer, almost springlike. He stuck his key in the lock and was a little surprised when it opened. After turning off the alarm, he took his time walking up the black marble staircase, listening to the echo of his steps remind him of what he was leaving behind. The door to the workroom was closed, and, not knowing what to expect, he took a moment before opening it.

Everything had been taken from the walls, which had been patched and painted. The furniture and other pieces of equipment were in their original places. In the back room, the cot he’d slept on was gone. His suitcase with the clothes he’d left behind was on the floor in its place.

Back at the former workroom, he called the CIA agent he’d met at the airport before taking off for Florida and made arrangements to meet him.

Then he dialed Bursaw’s cell. He had called him from Florida after reading about Kalix’s death and the subsequent news releases regarding the Lithuanian spy ring. Vail told him he’d be back to Washington in five days and asked if they could have dinner before he took Vail to the airport. “Luke, I’m back. At the off-site.”

“Forty-five minutes, okay?”

“We’ve got one other stop to make, if you don’t mind.”

When Bursaw pulled up, Vail walked out with his suitcases and put them in the trunk. “How’s the shoulder?”

“I can tell when it’s going to rain, but that’s not such a bad thing.”

“That’s good news,” Vail said. “Do you know where the Oceanic Grill is?”

“I thought I was picking the restaurant.”

“You are. This is the stop I told you I had to make.”

“That’s okay then, because I made reservations at this Thai restaurant that has the cutest hostess.”

“This shouldn’t take more than ten or fifteen minutes. Did you bring Rellick’s phone?”

“It’s in the glove box. Why have I been the custodian of that thing? It’s kind of creepy, since I’m the one who had to shoot him.”

Vail put the phone in his pocket. “All in good time, my friend.”

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the Oceanic Grill’s parking lot. Vail spotted the car he was looking for and told Bursaw to park next to it. Once he did, the CIA agent got out of his car and into theirs. He handed Vail an unmarked folder. Stapled inside the front cover was a photograph. “We had a hard time tracking down that phone number you gave me at the airport. Where did it come from?”

The number was the one that had called back on Rellick’s phone right after Luke killed him, the man Rellick had called “Tanner.” Vail looked at the photo. “This is who it came back to?”

“Believe me, it wasn’t easy tracing it back. His name is Viktor Branikov. We call him ‘The Mosquito.’ ”

“The Mosquito?”

“Yeah, from Dr. Zhivago. The character Viktor Komarovsky, who seduces Lara and sucks the blood out of everyone no matter which communist regime is in power. The root of the name, komar, is Russian for ‘mosquito.’ That’s this guy, Branikov. He actually survived the KGB purges and has prospered. According to our source at the embassy, he’s the rezident.”

“ ‘Rezident’? What’s that?” Bursaw asked.

Vail said, “The head of the station in Washington for the SVR.”

“Supposedly he worked his way up through the ranks by making difficult problems disappear permanently.”

“What about the dust?” Vail asked.

“Like you wanted, we had the same source at their embassy start the rumor that Branikov was doubling for one of our agents, a Donald Winston. Of course there is no one by that name with us, but we had someone play the role. We also had our source spread the word that Winston went to the same gym five days a week. Three days ago, when Winston got back to his car, there was dust all over the passenger side.” He handed Vail a common-looking pen. “Just point and click.”

Vail showed Bursaw the photograph. “Luke, go in there and get a table near this guy. I want to make sure he’s completely alone. I’ll be five minutes behind you. If you spot anybody else, give yourself a tug on the ear when I come in.”

Bursaw entered the restaurant and immediately spotted the big Russian alone at a table in a side room. He was just finishing his meal and looked hard into Bursaw’s eyes as the black agent came into the room, without an employee seating him, and sat down a couple of tables away. Bursaw watched him carefully, because he knew that if someone was watching Branikov’s back, it would be at that moment that the Russian would signal him to be suspicious of Bursaw. Instead he resumed drinking his coffee.

Five minutes later Vail walked into the side room. Bursaw didn’t look up, letting him know that his target was alone. Vail sat down at the Russian agent’s table. “How are you?” Vail said, reaching into the bread basket.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Sure, you know, Steve Vail. You tried to kill me a couple of times.”

“I’m sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else,” the Russian said. “Someone who doesn’t sound very nice.”

“You’re not Viktor Branikov? Or would you prefer ‘Tanner’?”

Branikov set down his coffee cup and leaned back, a smug grin forming on his face. “Mr. Vail—I assume it’s no longer Agent Vail—I have to wonder why you’re here.”

“You must be pretty pleased with yourself. The Lithuanians had no idea that they were your fall guys. If they’d been successful killing Kate at her home, then you would have been able to have Kalix ‘solve’ the murder, naming the Lithuanians as responsible, and he would have gotten promoted that way. That was your original plan, wasn’t it? Then, of course, you would have had to kill Zogas, so he couldn’t involve the Russians.”

“If that’s true, then you have done my organization a great service.”

“That would have been true if one of our snipers hadn’t killed your boy Kalix. I don’t imagine they’re planning any parades for you in Moscow.”

“That’s an awful lot of supposition, Mr. Vail.”

“You’re right, and you can call me Steve if you like. Actually, I’m here because it occurred to me that you might have other American double agents left in your stable.”

“And if that were the case, do you think I would just turn their names over to you?”

“You just lost a bunch of your assets, not to mention the services of the Lithuanians. I imagine Moscow is not pleased at this point. Let me give you some words of advice—‘political asylum.’ ”

Branikov threw his head back and laughed. “Steve, I’ve come to expect more from you. That’s a very weak tactic. One that assumes there are no other options at my disposal.”

“Then how about you being charged with the attempted murder of an FBI deputy assistant director and one regular old street agent?”

“I am disappointed. I know this is not your usual profession, but certainly you’ve heard of diplomatic immunity. If you could prove anything, which I don’t see how you can, at most I would be sent back to Moscow. And that is kind of an honor for a man in my field.”

“Unfortunately, I believe you’re right.” The waiter brought the check, and Vail grabbed it. “Allow me. Never let it be said that I’m not a gracious loser.” He gave the waiter a credit card.

“You’re too kind.” Branikov sipped his coffee in silence, studying Vail until the waiter brought back the charge slip and the card.

“I guess you’d better hope that nothing happens to the rest of your sources, because Moscow might start to wonder if you turned.”

“I’ll try to be careful,” Branikov said, his tone amused and patronizing.

Vail looked at the bill and then took out the pen the CIA agent had given him. As he started to write in the waiter’s tip, the pen slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. Vail bent over and picked it up. Outside the Russian’s line of vision, he pushed the clicker, silently discharging a mist of the ultraviolet powder, covering Branikov’s shoes. Vail straightened up and attempted to write with the atomizer pen and then took the waiter’s pen and signed the receipt.

“Thank you, Steve. You know, it’s too bad you don’t do this for a living. It would have made life infinitely more interesting to have you around.” Branikov got up and walked out, giving Bursaw a last hard look.

A few minutes later, Vail and Bursaw walked out into the parking lot and over to the CIA agent’s car. Vail took out Rellick’s phone and handed it to him.

“That’s it? He loaded it into his phone?” the agent asked.

“The list is in there.”

“And you didn’t read it.”

“It’s no longer any of my business, so no.”

“We appreciate it,” the agent said, and got back into his car. The two men watched him pull out of the lot before getting back into theirs.

Bursaw said, “Okay, I’m just a common street agent, incapable of understanding the subtleties of counterintelligence. What just happened?”

“Branikov was responsible for everything. He’s the one who contracted the LCS to carry out Kate’s ‘suicide.’ But between our being unable to prove it and his diplomatic immunity, he was going to get away with everything. You know how I feel about that. So before I left for Florida, I asked the CIA to identify the phone number that called Rellick’s phone that night in the park. I knew that they had a source in the Russian embassy, because they gave us some information from him early on in the Calculus case. So when they identified Branikov as Rellick’s handler, they had their source in the embassy leak it out that Branikov was a double agent and that he was being handled by a fictitious CIA officer named Donald Winston, and that he went to the gym every day. A technique they commonly use is spy dust. When they know their suspected man’s contact—in this case Winston—they find a way to put dust in his car and then discreetly keep checking Branikov’s clothing to see if it shows up. If it does, they know that he’s been in the car and doubling. Three days ago the CIA found the dust in Winston’s car. So they collected it and loaded it into the pen, which I just used to spray Branikov’s shoes with.”

“So they’re already suspicious of him, and when they find the dust on his shoes, they’ll start putting him through the grinder.”

“I can’t speak for Russian bureaucracy, but that’s the way it looks on the drawing board. And as soon as the Bureau starts making arrests off the lists that were in Zogas’s computers, Branikov’s looking at some serious gulag time. At best.”

Bursaw laughed. “It does have a nice symmetrical irony to it, since the dust was part of Kate’s frame. Like the Bible says: ‘Dust to dust.’ ”

“I think the thing I like best about you, Luke, is you appreciate just how flawed an individual I am.”

“That’s very flattering—I think—but you’re still buying dinner.”

“Let’s go meet your Thai hostess.”

They drove for a while before Bursaw asked, “Well, how was wreck diving?”

“It was okay, you know.”

“I never really take vacations, but aren’t you supposed to look at least a little bit happy when you come back?”

“Sounds like I’m about to be the recipient of well-intentioned but pointless meddling,” Vail said.

“As a friend it’s my job to stick my nose in your business.”

“Right now that would be a good way to end our friendship.”

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“Catch me up on what’s been going on since I left.”

“We found six bodies in the well. They’ve only been able to identify two of them—Sundra and that missing air force sergeant. The lye had been working on the others for a while, so we may never know who they are.”

“And what are you doing with all your free time now?”

“I do have one fairly large bone to pick with you. They’ve got me working counterintelligence because I know all the players, and thanks to you they figure I can keep my mouth shut.”

“Glad to help.”

“Actually, it’s not that bad. We’re going after guys we know are spies. It’s not like the rest of the time where you’re guessing and hoping. And if I get bored, I’ll do something not so surprisingly stupid and be sent back to WFO. You know me, whatever way the wind blows.”

“For someone with a degree in philosophy, you have an extraordinary lack of it in your personal life.”

“Said the bricklayer with a master’s degree.”

Vail smiled. “It’s like that old Bureau adage, ‘If you want something done right, go find yourself a misfit.’ ”

Bursaw watched the street in front of him for a few blocks before saying, “So you’re not going to ask?”

Vail looked at him and then went back to staring out the windshield. “Okay, how is she?”

“Was that so hard?” Bursaw demanded.

“Don’t press your luck. How is she?”

“You would think with all the press she’s gotten for taking down the LCS and cleaning up the little problem inside our own hallowed halls, she’d be on top of the world, but I think her face is at least as long as yours. You should try to see her before you go.”

“I gave that a lot of thought when I was gone. I think we’re both too comfortable with being mildly unhappy. It precludes unhappiness on a larger scale.”

“And you talk about my personal philosophy being misguided.”

“Ironic, isn’t it? The thing that brought Kate and me together is what ultimately keeps us apart. We’re a great match working together, and the little time spent completely away from the job has been very good, but invariably her work creeps back in and that’s the end of it.”

“She told me how this case has gotten in the way. Not that she had to tell me how you are. But it’s over now. I don’t have all the particulars, but knowing you, I’m going to guess it’s long past your turn to blink.”

“I said some things that would be hard for her to forgive. She’ll be better off if I just get out of here.”

“And how would you be?”

Vail stared at him for a few moments. “You’re a good friend, Luke.”

Bursaw pulled in to a parking space. “In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen anyone change your mind, so I’m done trying.” He turned off the engine. “Let’s eat.”

As Vail got out of the car, he realized that they were in the section of Georgetown where he and Kate had gone to dinner the night they’d arranged her escape. He and Bursaw walked into the same small courtyard where they had window-shopped. It was late enough that all the stores were closed but one. Vail glanced into the window of the art gallery where he and Kate had stood that night when he told her about his father.

There were four new sculptures, a series, depicting the same woman in varying poses, all draped with sheer fabric that was somehow more sensuous than if she’d been nude. Three of them had Sold signs placed next to them. “What the—” Vail looked back for Bursaw, hoping that his friend could answer the incomplete question, but he had already gone inside the gallery. Vail looked at the sculptures again to see if he was imagining things. They were his.

He looked past the display and could see some of the people inside, glasses of wine in their hands, Bursaw now among them, shaking hands with an older woman and accepting a drink from a server.

Vail took a step back and, with attempted objectivity, judged the pieces. Were they good enough? He went inside to find out.

The gallery was deceptively large, consisting of three rooms. Other pieces of his were exhibited on pedestals, more than a dozen. He started over to Bursaw and was about to pull him aside when his friend held up his hands, indicating it wasn’t his doing. He then pointed back at the office door. It was open, and Vail could now see Kate sitting alone. When she spotted Vail, she stood and smiled with a hint of uncertainty.

He entered the office, and all he could say was “How?”

She took his hand. “A Bureau plane. Your building manager remembered me and let me in. A lot of bubble wrap. It wasn’t really that hard. The only difficult part was taking the chance that you wouldn’t hate me for doing this.”

“As far as surprises go, this isn’t bad.”

“Then you’re not mad at me?”

He smiled reflectively. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“The gallery owner thinks I’m your manager, so don’t tell him what I really do. He loves that you’re a bricklayer. He keeps telling everyone that you’re just like Rodin. I suppose you know he was a bricklayer before he became famous. Some of them have already sold. I let him set the prices. I hope that’s okay.”

Vail, looking as confused as she’d ever seen him, turned around and watched the people examining his work. He turned back to her, still unable to answer.

“Is it all right?” she asked.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say it’s okay.”

“I’m talking about you. The way I was to you—why would you do this for me?”

“I’ll leave the obvious answer to that limited imagination of yours, bricklayer. And let’s not forget the way I was to you. I accused you of not being able to trust anyone, and then you left me all the answers. And never once looked back. Of the good and bad we’ve traded, I’d say I got the better of the deal.” She took a sip of her wine. “That last why had me for a while. Only after I left the off-site and was on my way to give Kalix the list of spies did I realize that you were pointing at him. But you evidently had enough confidence in me that I’d figure it out. Thank you.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you. For the first time since I was a kid, I feel like I’m connected to someone.”

She put her arms around his waist. “And now I believe I owe you one New Year’s Eve.”

Vail glanced out into the gallery and closed the office door quickly.

Kate said, “Actually, I was thinking more like at my place.”

“Do you know who just walked in?”

“Who?”

“Mike, the director’s driver, and he doesn’t look like he’s here for the art.”

“Oh, he’s probably—”

Vail went to the back of the office and opened an exit door. It led to an alley. “Remember what happened when I let you answer that phone on the real New Year’s Eve?” He grabbed her by the wrist. “Let’s go.”

“They know where I live.”

“We’re driving straight to the airport.”

“Where are we going?”

“Yeah, like I trust you enough to tell you.”

She grabbed his arm. “You always did know just what to say to a girl, Stan.”

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank the following people, without whom Noah Boyd would never have been born: My agent, Esther Newberg, who never allowed me to consider failure a possibility My editor, David Highfill, who is the best possible person to be with in the literary trenches And the rest of the good people at William Morrow: Danielle Bartlett Mike Brennan Lynn Grady Tavia Kowalchuk Shawn Nicholls Gabe Robinson Sharyn Rosenblum Liate Stehlik

About the Author

NOAH BOYD is the author of the New York Times bestseller The Bricklayer and a former FBI agent who spent more than twenty years working some of the Bureau’s toughest investigations, including the Green River Killer case and the Highland Park Strangler case (which he’s credited with solving). He currently works on cold cases when he’s not writing. He lives in New England.

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Also by Noah Boyd

The Bricklayer

Credits

Cover design by Mary Schuck

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

AGENT X. Copyright © 2011 by Noah Boyd. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition February 2011 ISBN: 9780062041623

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