Max sat in silence for a few moments, taking it all in. Leaving a single family member alive was a sort of calling card.
“I’m sorry, Max,” his father said. “I should have told you that story a long time ago. It isn’t something I like to discuss. Not really something that I was allowed to discuss.”
Max spoke quietly. “What happened after that? With you and the CIA?”
“I told the CIA I was done.” Charles turned to face Wilkes. “But one is never truly done with them. I realize that now. When I told them that I was finished, the CIA was unhappy. But they didn’t push it. They gave me protection, and I’ve helped them from time to time.”
Wilkes said, “As far as we know, Morozov never told anyone else that your father was working with us.”
“He knew and he never told the Soviets about my father working for the CIA? Why not?”
Wilkes said, “In a word? Pride. And maybe fear. Morozov didn’t want to look bad. You have to remember the way the Soviets worked back then. Your father was feeding the KGB false information for years. Military secrets. Their government made major decisions to increase military spending based on the information that we provided. It was all part of a huge misinformation campaign. We wanted the USSR to spend itself into oblivion. We knew their economic engine couldn’t sustain it. It couldn’t keep up with the United States’ manufacturing power. But why stop there? Why have them think they needed to keep up with reality, when we could provide them an alternate reality that was even more grave?”
“What did you tell them?”
“We gave them information about a classified stealth aircraft program — claiming that they were in development out in the Nevada desert.”
“Didn’t we actually have something like that?” Max asked.
“Yes. Lockheed’s Skunkworks program was very similar. They developed the F-117, the B2, etc.…”
“So what did they think you were doing?”
“They thought Fend Aerospace was developing a set of supersonic stealth fighters. We made it look like we were decades ahead of where we really were. We even created cardboard cutouts and placed them in the desert. We had an entire base filled with fake aircraft. Hundreds of personnel were involved. Only a few knew that it was a deception, however.”
“But Morozov found out.”
“Yes.”
“And he never told anyone.”
“It would have ruined him. He might have even been executed, for not catching that it was all fake.”
Max was incredulous. “So he just let the Russians think that it was real?”
Charles shrugged. “Why not?”
“By the time he found out, it was 1989. The Soviet Union was in decline. The Red Army was getting slaughtered in Afghanistan. Bread lines in Moscow. He saw the writing on the wall. Why hurt his reputation? It was better for him if he kept the failure quiet. I have to admit, considering his position today, he was right about that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before? About my mother…”
“You were too young to understand. And much of it was classified at the highest levels.”
“Still is,” Wilkes said.
Max frowned. “Who cares, now?”
Charles looked at Wilkes.
“Because as you now know, Pavel Morozov still presents a threat to national security,” Wilkes said. “And the CIA wants to bring him down.”
They ordered an early dinner delivered from a local seafood restaurant. Max ate a grilled mahi-mahi sandwich while he filled them in on what he had witnessed over the past few days.
Wilkes had a lot of questions. “So you think it was MI-6 that helped you escape?”
“I do.”
“Why do you think it was them?”
“British accents, mainly.”
Wilkes said, “That’s great detective work.”
“Because they were good. And I recognized one of them, from an op a few years ago. I know that he was MI-6.”
“Fine. Tell me about your interactions with them again. MI-6 had you meet with their woman in Morozov’s outfit?”
“Yes. Down in Key West. Morozov had his yacht docked there until recently.”
“How’d you know Morozov was there?”
“The MI-6 woman told me to meet her there.”
Wilkes looked bothered. “Why didn’t they go through normal channels to resolve this?”
“They said they did,” Max said. “They said the CIA didn’t want to halt the Fend 100 passenger qualification flight. They said you wanted to let Morozov keep going so that you could catch him red-handed or something like that. Is that true?”
Wilkes clenched his jaw. “Not entirely.”
“Now what the hell are you playing at, Caleb? If that Russian lunatic is putting people in danger, then we need to do something about it,” Charles said.
Wilkes didn’t answer. He was distracted, looking off into the distance. Like he was trying to sort something out in his head.
“You’re right about Morozov’s being a threat,” Max said. “He’s planning to steal all of your company’s data — he’s going to launch another cyberattack. He’ll have the technology for the Fend 100 and be able to sell it on the black market.”
Wilkes and Max’s father looked at each other. “We know,” Wilkes said. “I told your father about it last week. After you made your escape from D.C. What we don’t know is how he’s going to do it.”
“Well, I might be able to help with that part.”
“How?”
“The MI-6 woman I met — Charlotte Capri. She told me that Morozov’s hackers have a way to get access to the secure servers where the Fend 100’s data is stored.”
Max told them what he’d learned from Charlotte, and what Renee and he had figured out on their own. When he was finished, both Charles and Caleb Wilkes looked impressed.
“You were actually on his yacht?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Agreed.”
“She’s supposed to meet with me again. She says MI-6 is working on software that will be able to defend against Morozov’s hackers.”
“Where and when is she meeting you?” Wilkes said.
“Somewhere in Jacksonville, tonight. Morozov is sailing his yacht up the Florida coast today. Which continues to bother me. Morozov must know that we’re on to him. Especially now that I’ve gotten away. Why isn’t he more frightened of US law enforcement or counterintelligence taking him into custody?”
“He’s a pro,” Wilkes said.
“So what?”
“He’s been at this a long time, and he knows the rules. We can’t touch him right now. We don’t have evidence that he’s done anything wrong, other than your word. Which is tainted, at the moment — thanks to him. Like I said. A pro.”
“What about the forensics that the FBI had?”
“It’s been tampered with, obviously. It links to you. So if we want to go after Morozov, we’ll also be using the same forensic evidence that implicates you. Does that sound like it would hold up?”
“No. But this isn’t court…” Max decided it was time to bring up Renee. “I have someone I’ve been working with. A Canadian woman that I know, Renee. She’s former CSE. A real black hat ninja.”
“A what?”
“A hacker, Dad. Renee has been able to uncover a lot about Morozov. He has an outfit called Maljab Tactical. They’re a group of Uzbek defense consultants, and they operate mostly out of Syria. They specialize in working with Jihadi extremist groups. They also have some pretty good hackers. Our working theory is that this group was involved in the Fend cyber intrusion. They probably linked the network breach to me.”