“We hope that this is an isolated attack,” Novikov said, responding to his hidden suggestion.
“So do we. We stand by to assist your country in any way possible. Given recent events here in the United States, I can assure you that we are committed to keeping facilities like Vektor and our own CDC secure against terrorism. Bioweapons are a frightening prospect on the world scene.”
“I couldn’t agree more. We’d like nothing more than to put the Vektor attack behind us and renew a joint commitment to stamping out these weapons internationally,” Novikov said.
There it was. The Russians wanted a clean slate between them.
“That’s very good to hear. I’m sure the American people would strongly support this kind of bilateral effort, and I know that my president is eager to put recent events as far behind us as possible,” Regan said.
“Most excellent, my friend. I will relay this to Moscow immediately. Sorry to…how do you say it? Eat and run? But this is a matter of urgency, and your offer of bilateral support will be most happily received.”
Both of them stood and shook hands vigorously.
“I’m pleased that we could come together on this one. Don’t be a stranger, Leo. Moscow was by far my most enjoyable posting, and I don’t often get the opportunity to regale in stories about Russia. Plus, I rarely have occasion to showcase this wonderful gift from your homeland,” Regan said, pointing at the samovar.
Novikov admired the samovar and tea set. “Nineteenth century Tsarist Russia, I believe. Very rare, but a shame to keep hidden away for my infrequent visits.”
“I’ll have to take your advice and keep it out as a reminder of our friendship. Please keep me posted on any developments related to the terrorist attack, and I’ll be sure to let you know if we pick up anything on our end.”
“Very well, Phillip. We’ll be happy to put all of this behind us.”
“And so will we,” Regan said, showing Novikov to the door.
Once the door closed, Philip Regan settled into the high-backed chair and finished his tea. He had little idea what the exchange had truly meant and suspected the same about Novikov. He had received explicit instructions from the secretary of state regarding the outcome the president desired, which had included just enough information to work out a diplomatic solution in the most vague terms. He knew Vektor Laboratories had been attacked and that the attack might be related to the issue in Monchegorsk, though he had been specifically prohibited from mentioning the Kola Peninsula incident in any way.
Regan had been encouraged to mention the recent bioweapons scare in the United States and suggest that the administration would support any and all bilateral efforts to eradicate the world bioweapons threat. Philip could connect the dots. He had a strong suspicion that the attack against Vektor had been a demonstration of the White House’s previous and future unilateral commitment to preventing another attack against the homeland.
Chapter 74
Alexei Kaparov shook his head and smiled for most of the walk back to his office. Maxim Greshnev, chief counterterrorism director for the Federation Security Service, had summoned him unexpectedly for a second time today. The first had occurred at 4:45 in the morning, soon after he had reported to headquarters in response to an urgent roster recall. He had learned that terrorists had attacked Vektor Laboratories, Russia’s State Research Institute for Virology and Biotechnology, targeting the biocontainment building. Vektor officials had assured Greshnev that the virology division’s infectious disease samples had not been stolen or tampered with in any way.
Kaparov had fought to stifle a grin throughout the early morning meeting, never imagining that he’d have to fight the same battle twelve hours later during a one-on-one meeting with Greshnev. Smiling was not one of Kaparov’s strong suits, but today had made him infinitely happy.
He reached one of the doors leading into the Biological/Chemical Threat Assessment Division’s cubicle farm and concentrated on presenting the same sour face his agents had grown accustomed to seeing over the years. Normally, his division resembled a ghost town at this point in the evening, but thanks to Karl Berg, the entire counterterrorism department was still a beehive of activity and showed no signs of slowing down.
Thousands upon thousands of hours would be wasted in the Lubyanka Building over the next few weeks, possibly months, and he would have to appear enthusiastic, knowing for a fact that it was an exercise in futility. He was in for a long summer.
Yuri Prerovsky stood up from his cubicle located directly outside of Kaparov’s office.
“Anything new to report?” Kaparov said, continuing into his office.
“Center for Special Operations units are mobilizing small teams to assist with the execution of emergency warrants against our high-priority watch-list targets,” Prerovsky said, hovering just outside his door.
“Come in. I hate when you linger like that. Do they require any of our personnel in the field?”
Prerovsky stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Not at the moment, but they’re going to run out of agents to chase down everyone on that list, which is what I presume they’ll have to do,” Prerovsky said, eyeing him.
“Well, given what Greshnev just told me, the entire investigation is about to take an interesting detour. Are you ready for the latest?” Kaparov said, lighting a cigarette.
“Probably not.”
“Greshnev asked me to reopen the investigation into Anatoly Reznikov. Information has surfaced suggesting a possible link between the scientist and Monchegorsk,” he said and leaned back in his chair.
“You have to be fucking kidding me. May I presume that you did not use the phrase ‘I told you so,’ at any point in the conversation?” Prerovsky said, taking a seat in the small folding chair next to the door.
“You can’t imagine what I was thinking. I could barely keep from laughing in Greshnev’s face,” Kaparov said.
“This is a genius move on their part…”
“Whose part?” Kaparov said, exhaling smoke toward the nicotine-stained ceiling.
“Whoever decided that this was the perfect opportunity to make lemonade out of lemons. Monchegorsk is an undeniable international public-relations disaster that makes Chernobyl look like a routine ten-car pile-up on the Moscow Ring Road. Linking a disturbed scientist to the terrorist attack on Vektor and ultimately Monchegorsk isn’t the prettiest option, but it’s sure as hell better than the version of events they’re currently peddling to the international community,” Prerovsky said.
“I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way. I was just wondering how the hell they were going to investigate a dead man.”
“That’s not a problem for the puppet masters. I’m quite sure that Reznikov will be killed by SVR agents a few months from now, just as he is about to poison another city in Russia. Probably won’t be much left of his body after the raid.”
Kaparov nodded and took a long drag from his Troika cigarette, exhaling as he spoke. “You’re probably right. Until then, we have to go through the motions. Greshnev wants us to prepare a detailed file on Reznikov. Everything we have. We’re to activate all protocols previously used to track Reznikov’s whereabouts, foreign and domestic.”
“None of those protocols had been particularly effective in the past,” Prerovsky said.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter. We won’t be the only ones going through the motions if your theory is correct.”
“And Monchegorsk? How should we proceed?” Prerovsky asked.