"It's what I'd do," Elizabeth said. "Perhaps not an official arrest. Kamarov's nephew is Vysotsky's boss. He has to be careful. If I were him, I'd grab Kamarov in secret and take him someplace where I could take my time questioning him."
"I might be able to find out where Kamarov is," Stephanie said, "or at least where he isn't. That might tell us something."
Elizabeth nodded. She looked around. "Anyone have anything else?"
No one did.
"Then that's all for the moment. Nick, Selena, please stay for a few minutes. There's something I want to talk with you about."
Ronnie, Stephanie and Lamont left the room. Elizabeth opened a drawer and took out the file on Selena's father. She opened it to the first page and turned it so that Selena and Nick could see it.
Selena drew in a breath when she saw her father's name.
"Selena, do you know what this is?"
"It's a CIA file about my father."
"Have you seen it before?"
"Shit," Nick said.
Elizabeth waited.
"Yes, I've seen it. I thought it had been destroyed."
"You knew about this, Nick?"
"I knew about it. We didn't tell you because we weren't sure how you'd react. Finding out that Selena's father might have been a Russian spy wasn't exactly a great item for her resume. We were afraid you'd think she was a security risk."
"I don't know what's more disappointing," Elizabeth said. "The fact that you didn't trust me or that you thought I would judge Selena by who her father was."
"He wasn't a traitor." Selena's face was flushed.
Nick said nothing.
"How did you get the file?" Elizabeth asked.
"Adam gave it to me," Nick said. "He said it was the only copy."
"You seemed angry every time Russia came up in our meetings," Elizabeth said to Selena. "Stephanie wondered why. She went looking for reasons why you might be upset. She found this file in a restricted archive at Langley, buried behind a half dozen layers of added encryption."
"Spying on me," Selena said.
"I don't want to hear that," Elizabeth said. "I know that's not what it was and so should you."
"How would you feel? The KGB killed my father, my mother and my brother. I have every right to be angry with the Russians."
"How long have you known?"
"I've known for months."
"You knew about Valentina?"
"Valentina?" Selena said. "Who's Valentina?"
Elizabeth looked at her, surprised. "I think you'd better tell me about the file Adam gave you. What did it say?"
"It was a classified file, obviously old, clearly authentic."
"An actual paper file?"
"Yes."
"Go on."
"It said he was an agent, something I didn't know about him. It said he'd been giving information to the Russians. It listed deposits in his name, hidden in accounts located offshore. There were photographs of him in East and West Berlin, meeting with people identified as Russian agents. There were a lot of details. It said that his death wasn't an accident and that the KGB executed him. The last part concluded that the Russians acted because they no longer trusted him."
"And that was it? Nothing more?"
"The only other thing I discovered was that my uncle also worked for the CIA. I didn't know that, either. His signature was on many of the papers in the file."
Elizabeth sighed. "I can only imagine how you must've felt when you read that."
"No you can't," Selena snapped. She took a breath. "I'm sorry. Yes, it was upsetting. I thought I knew who he was. That got turned upside down."
"There was no mention in the file of any one named Valentina? Or Antipov?"
"No."
"What you getting at, Director?" Nick asked.
"There's more to the story, another section of this file that you haven't seen. Selena, the rest of it is going to come as something of a shock to you."
"I don't think there could be much about this that would shock me after finding out my father was a spy."
"I just wanted to prepare you," Elizabeth said. She pushed the file across her desk. "Read it, and then we'll talk."
Selena took the file and began reading.
CHAPTER 41
The fresh green of approaching spring dusted the manicured garden beds of the Bois de Boulogne. Valentina Antipov loved the park, though she thought that calling the Bois de Boulogne a park was like calling the Mona Lisa a pretty picture. She ran here early in the morning every day, unless prevented by her assignment to Gutenberg. The spacious grounds in the west of Paris were a reminder that life was about more than the unpleasant necessities of her job.
Valentina only vaguely remembered a time before she'd begun training to be a spy. It had started when she was five years old, when her mother took her to a gray building on the outskirts of Moscow and left her in the care of a man wearing the uniform of a captain in the KGB. Captain Vysotsky became the substitute for a father she had never known. A stern father, a demanding father, but a father who was stern and demanding was better than none at all. She saw her mother infrequently, sometimes not for a months. When Valentina asked about her, Vysotsky would say that her mother was a hero and was serving the needs of the Motherland.
"You can see how important it is, can't you, Valentina? Your mother works to keep us all safe and protect us from our enemies. That's why she can't be here as much as you'd like."
"It's good that she's a hero," Valentina had said, "but I wish she could spend more time with me."
Valentina had been nine at the time. The memory was burned into her mind. A day later (or was it two or three, she couldn't quite remember), Captain Vysotsky told her that her mother was dead, killed in the line of duty by the treacherous agents of the West.
Years later Valentina found out that the truth was somewhat different. Sofia Antipov had gotten drunk and lost control of her car on an icy mountain road in the Swiss Alps. The car had smashed through the guard rail and plunged over a thousand feet until it shattered on the unforgiving boulders far below.
Valentina's intelligence and motor skills were well above average, a fact that did not escape her teachers' attention. When she reached the age of fourteen she was singled out for specialized training in the art of killing. By the time she was twenty-two, she was expert in all the tools of her trade. Along with martial arts, knowledge of poisons and use of the garrotte, Valentina was gifted with skill in weapons from the present and the past. She could use a Zulu spear or a samurai katana as easily as a Makarov pistol.
A little more than twenty years after her mother's death, Vysotsky had risen to the rank of general and Valentina had been molded into a perfect killing machine.
Morning sun lit the magnificent pavillion of Napoleon III as she ran past. The last French Emperor would have been shocked to see that his pavilion had been converted to a hotel and restaurant. She kept running until she came to the end of the Grand Cascade at the Lac Inferieur, the largest lake in the park. Water ran everywhere in the Bois, flowing through artful channels into lakes and ponds and fountains. Valentina slowed her pace to a jog and then to a walk. She found an empty bench facing the lake and sat, letting her body cool. She thought about what the day would bring. She had to meet with her handler later, at a bistro in Montmarte.
Lucien is getting pushy, she thought.
She watched a pair of joggers go by on the path.
Why has he called for another meeting? It's bad tradecraft. I don't like the way he undresses me with his eyes. Lots of men do that and I don't mind, but with him it's different.
For a moment she entertained the thought of placing something unpleasant in Lucien's espresso and watching him die. But of course she couldn't do that unless it became necessary. Lucien was getting careless. She decided to let Alexei know about it.