The engineer smiled weakly at his wife, who was staring at them from across the restaurant. “You stole this information, I presume?” Without waiting for an answer, he added, “Do you know who I am?”
Although the engineer spoke in Azeri, he did so in a stiff, formal tone that came across as haughty, the way a nonnative speaker might. Educated abroad, Mark concluded, probably in England.
“I know you’re a Javadov.”
Javadov was the last name of the local ex-com.
“I am.”
“You asked whether I stole this. I didn’t. You did, though. And then you sold it to me. For the ten thousand dollars that you see in your account.”
“I see,” said the engineer calmly.
“Do you?”
“I see that you are attempting to blackmail me. It won’t work, of course. In fact, I think you would be wise—”
Mark opened his iPad and a photo appeared. “Here we are together, meeting outside your apartment, just after ten thousand dollars was transferred to your account. That’s when you passed me the information.”
“You embarrass yourself,” said the engineer, but he looked stricken.
“Four days ago, an employee of Bazarduzu Construction — Aida Tagiyev — was murdered. Perhaps you heard of her death.”
“No.”
Mark watched for signs that would suggest the engineer was lying; he saw none.
“She was killed because of the information you see on my computer. Because she tried to steal it and sell it. Now, consider what might happen if it gets out that you gave me this information—”
“This girl. Who killed her?”
“Who do you think?”
“I couldn’t begin to guess. And no one will believe that I gave you this information. Do you understand that? I am a Javadov.”
The clear implication being that his relationship with the ex-com would insulate him from suspicion. Mark wasn’t buying it — people in power were usually the most suspicious of family members. Kings weren’t deposed by peasants, they were deposed by their kin.
“What I understand is that if you don’t help me, I will call Bazarduzu and offer to sell this financial information back to them. When I do this, the ex-com will have his men trace the call to my hotel. When they search my room, they will find copies of reports I’ve written, detailing how I recruited you to spy for me.”
“Spy for you,” repeated the engineer. “Ridiculous. And in this fantasy, who exactly might you be that I would agree to do this?”
Ignoring the question, Mark said, “There will be photographic evidence and bank receipts. Now, you might be thinking, you can just go to the ex-com now, to neutralize whatever evidence his men might find against you. But know that this photograph of us together”—Mark pointed to the iPad—“is just one of many. I have been following you for several weeks. When you had dinner two Saturdays ago at the Elnur, I was there standing behind you as you walked in, when you picked up your shirts from the cleaners on Vagif Street three weeks ago, I was there, close enough for us to have been talking. All that has been documented by people I work with, photographed, so I could report to my superiors that I was making progress in recruiting you.”
The engineer had used a debit card tied to his bank account to make several purchases over the past month, and those charges had shown up on his bank statement.
“I don’t think…” The engineer shook his head as though angry, but now he was clearly unnerved. His voice trailed off.
“I’ll add another five thousand dollars to your account. But that’s my final offer.” Carrot and stick. “You have a choice to make.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I know. Bazarduzu completed a project in Nakhchivan last year. I need to know what that project was. When you give me what I need, all this unpleasantness goes away. No one will know that we ever spoke.”
The engineer cast another glance at his wife, looking as though he hoped she’d come to his rescue. He looked down at the bar, and then scratched his head.
“We don’t know each other.”
“True.”
“I can’t trust you.”
“I work for a respected foreign intelligence agency.”
“Who? What agency?”
“And while sometimes the methods of my agency are unpleasant, we don’t stay in business by turning our backs on people who help us. If you help me, I will protect you. As I’ve protected you tonight by making certain I wasn’t followed here.”
A minute passed.
“I only know a little about the Nakhchivan project,” said the engineer.
“I’ll take a little.”
“What happens then?”
“Then I destroy any evidence of collusion between us and I go away. Permanently.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“I know.”
Another minute passed. Then, “It was an airstrip. We built an airstrip. ”
“Civilian?”
“I don’t think so. It was in a…a remote location.”
“Where?”
“Close to the border with Iran and Armenia, but not so close that it could be seen from the border.”
“Do you have GPS coordinates?”
“No.”
“How do I get there?”
“Go to Unus.”
“What’s that?”
“A town. There’s only one road going north out of Unus. You’ll eventually see a fence. It will be guarded. The entire zone is guarded.”
“What are they using that airstrip for? What kind of planes fly there? Military ones?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you,” said Mark.
“It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not. I still don’t know.”
“You guys got paid a lot of money just to build an airstrip.”
The engineer shrugged.
“Why was Bazarduzu chosen to build it?” asked Mark.
“Whoever was paying us didn’t want to use any of the big firms in Baku, they would have attracted too much attention.”
“Who was paying you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“That was above my pay grade. Someone who needed an airstrip.”
Mark clicked open a window on his iPad, revealing recording software. “I will keep this tape I have made of our conversation—”
The engineer let loose an insult that, loosely translated, meant fuck your ancestors.
“—until I receive confirmation that the information you have given me is correct. But I must ask you. Is all the information you have given me correct? Think carefully. Your life might depend upon the answer you give.”
The engineer glanced at the iPad, looking as though he were tempted to smash it. Mark slid it off the table and into his satchel.
The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Eventually, the engineer said, “It’s not near Unus. Go to the town of Ordubad. If you drive north out of Ordubad you will find it.”
“Thank you, my friend. The tape I made will be destroyed, along with the rest of the information that might incriminate you, when I confirm this to be true. In the meantime, I will keep all of it safe, as promised. Bazarduzu will not learn of our agreement.”
In actuality, Mark would delete the file from his iPad as soon as he left the restaurant, just to be safe. He never kept anything on it or his phone that could be used to incriminate himself or any of his sources. And he frequently restored both to their original store-bought settings, permanently erasing all new files in the process.
“You’re not my friend.”
“No, I suppose I’m not. Look for the extra five thousand dollars tomorrow.”