"Delivery? What am I, a slab of meat?" Reznikov said and pulled at his restraints again.
"That can be arranged if necessary. Enjoy the sunrise, if you get to see one during the trip. It'll be your last. I've arranged a dark cell for you. Well off the grid. You're about to disappear forever, after a lengthy visit from your new friends," Berg said.
"I told them everything," Reznikov said.
"They were working under a timeline back in Stockholm. They won't be in any rush this time."
"You already know everything. I sold the virus to Al Qaeda. The distribution center in Germany, the lists of addresses….everything. You stopped the plot, I assume. What the fuck else do you want from me?"
Reznikov's heart rate had nearly doubled in the past fifteen seconds, indicating that Berg had hit a nerve.
"We stopped the plot in Europe, but most of the virus canisters made it to the U.S. Your twisted ego and blatant insanity has put millions of American lives at risk. This doesn't put you in a good position. My superiors want to make sure you aren't hiding anything."
"I'm not insane," Reznikov said.
Berg could see that this was another raw nerve to be played. Reznikov didn't see himself as deranged. If he had any intention of discussing what Reznikov did to Monchegorsk, he was certain that the scientist would provide a "rational" explanation. The fact that he treated the sale of the virus to Al Qaeda so flippantly was a sure sign of his detachment from reality. He'd be sure to pass these observations to the interrogation team assigned to tear Reznikov apart mentally and physically.
"Tell it to your interrogators," Berg said.
He started to walk back to his seat to enjoy the rest of his drink, but Reznikov's next comment stopped him in his tracks.
"The program isn't dead."
He turned around slowly, pretending not to care. "What program?"
"The Russian bioweapons program. Weaponized encephalitis is just the tip of the iceberg."
"Are you saying that VEKTOR labs has a full-scale, active bioweapons program?"
"Why do you think they wanted me dead so badly? Why they're doing everything in their power to cover up Monchegorsk and blame the city's demise on an insurgent uprising. That's pure nonsense."
"What else are they working on?" Berg said, realizing that he sounded way too eager.
"I think we need to discuss my future living arrangements before I go into any more detail."
"A deal? You want some kind of a deal? We can torture the information out of you. It would be a lot less expensive and wouldn't leave me with a bad taste in my mouth," Berg said.
"You can't torture that level of detail out of me, and you'll want the details. I can deliver the entire program. The major players, the facility, history, current programs…everything. All I ask in return is a comfortable place to live out my remaining years and access to vodka. Good vodka, not the cheap shit. I've always wanted to live in the mountains."
Berg noticed that Reznikov's heart rate had almost returned to normal, which struck him as pure irony given the fact that he could feel his own heart through his throat. This confirmed what one of the Edgewood scientists had suspected, but only hinted about. There was no way that Reznikov had genetically modified basic encephalitis samples in a makeshift laboratory on Kazakhstan soil. The laboratory site discovered in the middle of the former Semipalatinsk nuclear testing grounds had been used to grow a virus Reznikov had stolen from VEKTOR. No wonder the Russians seemed willing to stop at nothing to kill Reznikov and keep samples of the virus out of western hands.
Berg suddenly felt exposed in the private jet. The Russians hadn't hesitated to shoot down the last private CIA charter to depart for the United States. He fought the urge to look out of the small oval window over Reznikov's head. They were as safe as possible over the United Kingdom, escorted by two Royal Air Force Typhoon fighter jets. The high-performance fighter aircraft would accompany them as far as possible over the Atlantic, before returning to their base. They would fly unescorted for several hundred miles until met by a pair of F-15 Strike Eagles launched from Langley Air Force base.
He looked down at Reznikov, who wore a smug look on his pale face, wondering if they could torture this out of him. He certainly deserved to endure some serious discomfort for engineering the tragedy in Monchegorsk and exposing the rest of the world to his madness. Unfortunately, Reznikov was right about the details. Just knowing the basics about the Russian bioweapons program wouldn't be enough. They needed actionable intelligence, the kind of information that would require a comfortable setting and legal assurances.
"I have an idea that might agree with you," he muttered.
"No prison cells," Reznikov stated.
"No. This is a very different kind of place. More of a house arrest type of situation with a view. Small population. Clean air. If I swing this, you have to give me everything."
"You might not want to hear everything. How about that drink? Vodka is more of my drink, but I'm not feeling picky right now," Reznikov said.
"Sorry. I need to deliver you alive. Doctor's orders. Plus, I have no intention of sitting here and putting a cup to your lips like you're a nursing home patient. If the right people buy off on what I have in mind, you'll be swimming in vodka."
"I expect the good stuff. Smirnoff doesn't count."
Berg returned to his seat without acknowledging Reznikov's comment. He moved next to the window so he couldn't see the man's disgusting face while he tried to process the next move. Foley continued to stare out into the darkness, giving him a moment to himself. He'd have to contact Audra immediately to see if the Agency would trade a "retirement package" at Mountain Glen for Reznikov's information. He couldn't imagine the director turning down the deal. Until moments ago, even the CIA had no idea that the Russian bioweapons program still existed. He let his mind wander for a moment, performing an "all possibilities" assessment of the situation. A faint smile began to form as he delved deeper into one of the ideas. He grabbed his glass of whiskey and downed the contents. He felt the burn in his throat, followed by the warm rush that spread upward to his head. Maybe Ms. Foley had the right idea.
"That's a dangerous-looking smile," Foley said.
"You have no idea. You speak fluent Russian, right?" he said.
She barely nodded.
"I need to make a private phone call," he said, suddenly getting up from his seat.
He walked toward the front of the jet and took a seat in a small alcove designed for privacy. He wished it was enclosed, and briefly considered taking a seat in the lavatory. The thought of sitting inside the cramped space for this phone call didn't last very long. He had enough privacy here, as long as he kept his voice low. He used the cordless phone to dial a number he had memorized and waited for the Gulfstream's MCS-7000 Satellite Communications System to connect the call. He purposely did not utilize the CIA's secure channel to route the call. He liked to maintain plausible deniability until the very last moment, and what he was about to suggest would require an incredible amount of deniability. Until the time was right, he didn't want any record of this call to exist. The line connected.
"Karl. I hadn't expected to hear from you this soon. Everything proceeded according to plan in Frankfurt. I just spoke with Farrington, and they were able to extract a working list of shipping addresses for the virus canisters," General Sanderson said.
"That quickly? Maybe I should recommend that we send a few of our interrogators down to Argentina for some training. I expected this to take a few days," he said in a hushed tone.
"They got lucky. Let's leave it at that. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call? I have a feeling this isn't a social call."
"I wish this could be a friendly chat between two veterans of the war on terror, but I've just been told some very disturbing news. Reznikov claims that the Russians never really stopped their bioweapons program at VEKTOR. He alluded to the fact that he had been a part of the program before he went rogue. We had it all wrong. We thought Reznikov had been banned from VEKTOR for trying to informally revive the bioweapons program. I think he stole fully weaponized viral encephalitis samples that he helped them create. He said this was just the tip of the iceberg at VEKTOR labs."