“It’s important,” Berg said.
“Call me back in five minutes. I need to throw on a coat and head out for a smoke,” he said.
“I thought you smoked in your office?” Berg said.
“I’m trying to reform my ways.”
Berg counted the seconds, considering the possible direction of their conversation. He needed to speak with Kaparov about two issues, but had to be careful with how he proceeded. He needed to warn Kaparov about the CIA officer’s abduction, but he also needed to prep Kaparov for the possibility that the U.S. government might strike a blow against Vektor. They’d likely need Kaparov’s assistance to pull off a fully successful mission. Unfortunately, the significance of the CIA officer’s abduction wouldn’t be lost on Kaparov, and Berg ran the risk of permanently losing him. He wouldn’t be shocked if Kaparov tossed his cellphone into the nearest sewer opening and never talked to him again. He’d have to tread lightly. A few minutes later, he tried the number again, hoping Kaparov hadn’t disposed of the phone.
“Deputy Director, how can I be of assistance?”
“I try to play that down around here, comrade.”
“The infamous Karl Berg claims to be modest? This is disappointing,” Kaparov said.
“I try not to attract too much attention in my twilight years. It’s bad for the career,” Berg said.
“Apparently not so bad. Every time I read the cables, you are once again promoted. After last week’s events, I expect you to be running the show over there,” Kaparov said.
Berg could hear traffic and distant voices in the background. Possibly a light breeze blowing across Kaparov’s cell phone.
“I had little to do with this one. Our domestic security forces took the lead. Plus, I’m starting to get the feeling that this promotion is more about keeping an eye on me and less about my wildly lucky hunches.”
“Instinct, my friend. There’s no such thing as a hunch in this business, which leads me to a rather delicate matter. My instinct tells me that you haven’t been completely forthcoming about Stockholm’s grand prize,” Kaparov said.
“And I thought I could still slip one by you after all of these years.”
“You couldn’t do it back in the day. What made you think anything had changed?” Kaparov said, followed by roaring laughter.
Since Kaparov had brought up Reznikov, Berg felt comfortable moving forward with news about Vektor first, followed by the warning about the abduction.
“Funny you should mention this prize. We need to discuss an ongoing problem in your neck of the woods. Something that shouldn’t exist.”
“Confirmed by our mutual friend?”
“Confirmed with details. I’m going to need some help with this one,” Berg said.
“We’ll see. Timeline?”
“Nobody seems keen about waiting for the next incident.”
“Be careful with your guest. He’s a slippery one. Our Arab friends weren’t the only parties interested in his services.”
“He’s in a safe place,” Berg said.
“I hope so.”
“Now it’s my turn to warn you about something,” Berg said.
“Should I start running for the nearest Metro station?”
“Not yet, but you’ll definitely need to raise your guard. Someone in Stockholm disappeared last night. He didn’t have any detailed information about the surprise party, but he does know that most of the guests received last-minute invitations.”
“I see,” Kaparov said, pausing for several moments.
“Are we still friends?” Berg said.
“For now. I’ll need to see what comes of this before I make any promises about the future.”
“I understand. The vacation offer still stands, if the climate changes too drastically.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Kaparov said.
“From a practical standpoint, I prefer that you stay in Moscow,” he said, and they both started laughing.
“If you had said anything else, I would have hung up on your dishonest ass. We need to figure out a better way to keep in touch. Throwing cell phones into the Moscow River can be expensive, especially on my salary.”
“I can’t believe you would pollute the river like that. I thought they were cleaning up the Moscow,” Berg said.
“Throwing phones into the river is the new national pastime. Putin has resurrected the paranoia in our DNA. Even the kids throw their phones in, and they don’t even know why they’re doing it.”
“As long as it keeps you out of the Moscow River, I approve.”
“Nobody is going to throw me in this river. No calls in my office or my home. If what you say is true, neither location will be safe. This time of the year, I like to walk every evening from six-thirty to seven, right after dinner. I stop off to buy vodka and cigarettes. It’s my usual routine. This would be the best time to call.”
“I can give you a Moscow number that will redirect your calls. Just in case.”
“Sounds good. Call me in a few days, and I’ll take that number. Until then, be careful with your new friend and stay out of trouble.”
“That goes double for you, comrade,” Berg said and hung up the phone.
He stared at the clock on the microwave and shook his head, taking in what Kaparov had said about Reznikov. His hint that the scientist had attracted attention beyond Al Qaeda disturbed Berg to the core. Given Reznikov’s outlaw status in Russia and Europe, he would have been forced to rely on Russian organized crime contacts for false paperwork or “off the books” travel. The Russian mafiya would have undoubtedly surmised his potential. The market for bioweapons among desperate rogue states represented an untapped economic resource for organized crime networks. The thought sent a chill through his body. He’d incorporate this revelation into the presentation, in the hopes that it would emphasize the importance of putting Vektor out of business.
Few would ever truly realize how important it had been to take Reznikov out of circulation. If the raid on Vektor succeeded, he would permanently “retire” the scientist. Reznikov wouldn’t be the first “retiree” to take a walk in the forest and never return. The term “retirement” had more than one meaning at the Mountain Glen facility.
Chapter 6
Alexei Kaparov extinguished his cigarette and lit another one immediately, inhaling deeply. He turned toward the Internal Affairs investigators and released the noxious smoke in their direction. The younger agent grimaced, while his seasoned partner stared through the haze unimpressed. At least they had the respect to send an old-timer to question him.
“Smoking has been prohibited in this building for two years,” the younger agent said.
“My habit was grandfathered,” Kaparov said.
“By who?”
“By someone old enough to be your grandfather. Are we done here? I’ve told you everything I know about Monchegorsk, which is nothing. I know this is hard for your superiors to understand given my position as director of this division,” Kaparov said, placing the cigarette in his overfilled ashtray.
“What bearing would that have on Monchegorsk?” the older agent said.
“Back to square one, eh? How many interrogations have we been through, and we can’t seem to get past this,” Kaparov said.
Kaparov shook his head. He really didn’t need this shit, but it was necessary in the long run. He’d continued to seek information about Monchegorsk long after everyone else had stopped asking questions. He didn’t see any other option. He had a reputation for tenacity and defiance, which had obligated him to pursue his initial line of questioning about the possible use of bioweapons in Monchegorsk for a reasonable period of time.