So what did any of that have to do with their argument?
Nothing.
Was that what really bothered him, their growing apart?
They weren’t apart — they were just older, with more things to worry about.
“There was a rumor today on one of the blogs — Politico, I think — that you were headed to Kiev,” said Sullivan.
“I am,” said Zen, returning from his brief daydream. “Senator Osten’s going to be in the hospital awhile.”
“Oh yeah, how is he?” asked Sullivan.
“I talked to him yesterday. He was joking about all the things he’s not supposed to do now.”
“You wouldn’t figure him for a heart attack,” said Sullivan.
Actually, thought Zen, you would — he didn’t exercise, was more than a little overweight, and had a complicated family medical history. But it was the sort of polite comment people made in passing.
“Do you really think Ukraine should be part of NATO?” asked Daly, changing the subject.
“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” said Zen. “What do you think?”
Daly was neutral; Sullivan was opposed, though only mildly. Both seemed worried about diluting NATO as a military force by adding relatively weak allies on the border of Russia. It was a reasonable argument, even if Zen disagreed. He wasn’t in much of a mood to get into a philosophical discussion of how to best offer a counterweight to Russia.
But Sullivan and Daly were.
“Russia is a diminished force,” said Sullivan. “A nonentity militarily.”
“That’s what worries me, to some extent,” said Daly. “When you’re beaten down is when you get dangerous.”
“They haven’t been beaten down.”
“They think they have. That’s what matters.” Daly turned to Zen. “I’d be careful at that summit,” he told him. “I’ve heard plenty of rumors that the Russians are out to disrupt it somehow.”
“I’ll be as careful as possible,” said Zen.
Sitting at a committee hearing two hours later, Zen decided he would be more than careful — he’d spend a little time at the shooting range before leaving, something he hadn’t done in a few months.
And he’d buy Breanna some flowers. That was also long overdue.
20
The doctor’s house was an American-style McMansion that would have looked right at home on Florida’s Gold Coast. In Chisinau it looked like something from outer space.
Three stories high, with lots of glass and stone, it lorded over the nearby houses, which would have looked large in any other context. Two parallel runs of spiked iron fencing surrounded the property. Eight feet high, the fence was a deterrent to trespassers, but not any more so than the dogs that roamed the interior. Unlike the one Nuri had encountered in Italy, these were rottweilers, and appeared to be trained guard dogs; they moved in twos with almost military discipline.
The dogs were more than enough to dissuade Nuri from sneaking in the way he had at Moreno’s, but in addition there were video cameras and infrared motion sensors all along the fence line. As Flash put it, the doctor did not want anyone making unannounced house calls.
So Nuri decided they would settle for NSA wiretaps, and in the meantime plant some video bugs in the neighbors’ yards in hopes of getting a picture.
Flash volunteered for the job. The game plan was straightforward: he’d rent a motorcycle, whiz up into the area, plant the bugs per Nuri’s directions, then head back to the hotel where they were staying. Danny would back him up in the rental car. Meanwhile, Nuri would access the accounts they had set up at the bank, giving MY-PID a route into the bank’s computers.
The first problem they encountered was with the motorcycle: they couldn’t find one to rent. Flash was ready to do the job on foot when he spotted an open bicycle shop on the way out of town. The owner wouldn’t rent anything, but was willing to part with an older ten-speed for fifty euros.
They put the bike in the trunk of a rented Dacia and drove out of the city toward the development just after dusk. The houses around the doctor’s were all relatively new, built within the last ten years. MY-PID’s scan of the property records listed several Russians with connections to Russian organized crime, but for the most part the homeowners were part of the small class of nouveau riche Moldovans who’d made money in various legitimate enterprises, the most popular of which was the pharmaceutical industry, which the Moldovan government had set out to encourage a number of years before.
Flash got out of the car about a half mile north of the doctor’s house. He took the bike they’d rented earlier from the trunk and began pedaling slowly through the neighborhood. Danny drove around until he found a spot where he could see most of the house with his night glasses.
“How’m I lookin’?” asked Flash.
“You’re good. Looks like there’s somebody in the second story of the house,” Danny told him. “Back room. Moving around.”
The glasses couldn’t see inside the building, but they were powerful enough to catch heat signatures close to the walls and windows. Danny scanned down the nearby streets. The only people outside were a block and a half away, working in a lit garden at the side of their yard.
“Car coming,” he said. “Mercedes up that street on your right.”
“OK.”
Flash slowed his pace as the car came to the intersection and turned past, then crossed the street and stopped near the fence of a yard diagonally across from the rear of the doctor’s house. Danny watched him take a video bug from his pocket and plant it on a slim tree that stood just outside the fence.
MY-PID sounded a tone over the radio system, telling them that the bug was working.
“Next,” said Flash, hopping back on his bike.
Danny drove down the block, circling around to lessen the odds of someone noticing him. Flash installed two more bugs and was halfway through the project when MY-PID announced that one of the garage doors in the doctor’s house was opening.
“You hear that?” Danny asked.
“Yeah. I’m just up the block.”
A Mercedes came out of the garage.
“Where do you think he’s going at this hour?” asked Flash.
“I’m going to find out,” Danny told him. “Can you finish that on your own?”
“Piece of cake.”
Danny doused his lights as he turned down the street parallel to the doctor’s house. The Mercedes appeared a few seconds later, driving down the hill in the direction of the city. Danny let him get a block ahead, then put his lights on and started to follow. Without a tracking device, he had to stay relatively close. It was Surveillance 101—a course he’d never taken. Once more he felt like a fish out of water, playing detective or spy when he’d been trained as a commando.
The Mercedes went six blocks on the main road, then turned in the direction of the city. But just as Danny started to accelerate, it veered off suddenly, taking a right on one of the side streets. Fearing that he’d been seen, he continued going straight, slowing down as much as he dared. He looked, but couldn’t see anything up the side street as he passed.
He went a block, then took a parallel street, hoping to circle back. The road ran for nearly a quarter mile before he found an intersection. He turned left when he reached the street the Mercedes had taken, calculating that the doctor had continued in that direction. But he ran into a dead end; he made a U-turn and headed back to the main road.
The Mercedes was nowhere to be found. Possibly it had pulled into one of the estates that flanked the road; Danny decided he’d take another look.