The surface of the river was completely frozen and had turned into a rough layer of ice. Underneath the surface, the powerful water rolled as it always had — unseen to his eye, but Justin knew it was there and ready to whisk away anyone who made the grave mistake of venturing too close.
He turned left and headed toward the Buran, the space test shuttle. A group of elementary school students were circling the shuttle and listening carefully to the explanations of two guides. The training ship was repainted like the model that had actually flown into space in 1988 but had been destroyed in 2002 in its hangar during a major storm. Still, the spacecraft had the utmost attention of the students, and Justin could tell a few of them were already reconsidering their career options, replacing “teacher” or “doctor” with “astronaut.”
Further away to the south, he saw an arbor on the bank of the river. Carrie was waiting inside, resting against one of the white columns. That was his sign that she was clear and no FSB agents had been able to track her down to their meeting point. Becca was sitting on one of the benches next to the rotunda arbor, keeping a watchful eye on the park street forking toward the south and the east.
“Hey, you look stylish,” Carrie said and pointed at Justin’s jacket. “Where’d you get that?”
“Oh, a long story. The FSB was chasing me and a woman at a shop helped me. She gave it to me.”
“Looks good on you.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s this?” Carrie ran her hands through Justin’s hair behind his head.
“Mud. A car splashed me as I was running away from the FSB. How did you do?”
“Better than you. I had a man and a woman follow me on foot for three or four blocks, quite discreetly, I should say. Then I got on the tramway and they lost me.”
Justin stepped near the wrought-iron rail of the riverbank. He leaned over it and stared at the ice. “What about her?” He nodded toward the city.
Carrie understood him. She turned her back toward Becca, then said, “She told me there was only one man behind her, and she eluded him very easily going through a few stores.”
“And you believe her?”
“I have no reason to believe otherwise. There is no one watching us at this moment.”
“Not yet.”
Carrie shrugged. She produced a small cellphone. “I got two of these.”
“Excellent. I’ve already called Fyodor. He should be waiting for us on Leninsky Prospect.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “We have about five minutes before he’ll start to worry.”
“Fyodor worries very easily.”
“Survival instinct. Let’s go.”
They walked toward Becca. As they were about to cross the street, Justin noticed a red sedan speed through one of the streets of the park. It had to be a government vehicle, since civilian vehicles were prohibited from entering the park grounds. The type of car — a new, shiny Audi — and the way the driver was going — fast and hard — told Justin the people in the car were not a part of the park’s maintenance crew.
“Who the hell is that?” Justin asked Carrie.
His mind raced through their options. Escape in three different directions. Run in the same direction. Stay and fight whoever may step out of the car screeching to a halt a few feet away from Becca’s bench. The driver parked at an angle, and his face was hidden from Justin’s line of sight.
“Don’t worry,” Becca said as she got up. “It’s a friend.”
The driver rolled down the front passenger window. Justin’s eyes caught the face of Maxim Levin, the FSB Special Agent who had attended their meeting with the FSB Deputy Director Derzhavin. What is he doing here? Is this a trap?
“He’s no friend of mine,” Justin said and took a step back.
“Max is my contact, my source,” Becca said. “He’s giving us crucial intelligence.”
“Hurry up, we’ve got to go before my absence becomes a reason for suspicion,” Max called to them from inside the car.
Justin hesitated for a moment. Carrie glanced at him and waited for instructions.
“Justin, do you trust me?” Becca asked and looked deep into his eyes.
“This is not a matter of trust; it’s a matter of tactics. Going into that car is the wrong move at the moment.”
“Max has never let me down, and he’s not going to start now. He’s risking his very own life to help us.”
Justin shook his head. “Even if that’s true, we have no idea who may be following him, who else may be in the know about his helping us. And how did he find us here?”
“I… I called him on the way.”
“When were you going to tell me — us — about that call?”
Becca looked away. “I was going to tell you, but he just… he just showed up early.”
Justin stared at Max, who was looking at them impatiently. “What’s the holdup?”
Justin did not reply. He let out a deep sigh, then said, “OK, Becca, let’s see what this intel is. But before we do that, I’ve got to make a call.”
He took one of his cellphones and casually paced toward the bank of the Moskva River. He called Fyodor and updated him on the unexpected change of plans. He gave Fyodor the license plate of Max’s Audi, as well as the man’s description. He asked Fyodor to follow the Audi extremely tactfully so that Max would not notice him.
“We can go now,” he said when he returned.
“Thanks,” said Becca. “You’ll see, this will be our much-needed breakthrough.” She slid into the front passenger seat.
Justin opened the right-side back door for Carrie. Just as she drew near him to step inside, he whispered in Carrie’s ear, “At the smallest hint of foul play, I’ll kill him.”
Chapter Nineteen
Max told them they were going to an FSB safe house so they could interrogate a member of the Islamic Devotion Movement. Bashir Sardalov — one of the Movement’s couriers — had been detained a few days ago, along with three accomplices. He was the man whose name Zakir had mentioned as a potential intelligence source.
“Why did Derzhavin lie to us about Bashir?” asked Justin. “Was he trying to drive a hard bargain or did he truly have no intention of helping us?”
“I’m not sure.” Max shook his head. “Given the current state of our relations, the coldest since the Cold War, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the latter.”
“But these terrorists, all terrorists, they target Russia as much as any Western country and even more because of Russia’s unique position. It’s in the interests of the US, Canada, and Russia to fight terrorism everywhere, all the time,” Becca said.
“I agree,” Max said. “But Derzhavin is old school. The school that taught us to hate Americans, who were our greatest enemy.” He grinned.
“What has Bashir given you so far?” asked Justin.
“The names of some members and their hideouts in Russia and Chechnya. We’ve made several arrests based on his information.”
“What about the terrorists’ plans to attack America?” asked Becca.
“He hasn’t volunteered anything and we haven’t interrogated him about that. We had only a general idea something was in the works but no details. Hopefully, he’ll have the information you need to disrupt their plans.”
“What sort of deal has the FSB made with Bashir?” Becca asked.
“A deal?”
“Yes. What have you promised him in return?”
Max smiled. “We’ve promised him nothing. You know, we Russians and you Americans and Canadians are not very different.”
Justin said, “You’ve tortured him?”
Max raised his left eyebrow. “I’m offended by the question,” he said in a low voice. “The detainee has cooperated of his own free will. Well, we may have used some ‘enhanced interrogation techniques’ to give him a little bit of an incentive.” He grinned.