Following the Vektor attack, Zuyev travelled to Argentina and Bolivia several times from Moscow over the course of the next year, raising Russian and American suspicions that he was paying close attention to the Bratva’s most recently acquired prized possession, Anatoly Reznikov. Kaparov had to roll his eyes at yet another glaring omission conveniently left out of the joint intelligence report. Nobody appeared to question or explain how Reznikov fell into Bratva hands in the first place!
Once again, not a surprise given the questionable circumstances surrounding the scientist’s disappearance and the numerous Russian and American lives lost in the bloody tug-of-war to capture him. Absurdly, Kaparov was probably the only person in the service of the Russian Federation who knew the full story. He couldn’t imagine any circumstance under which the Americans would disclose the details of Reznikov’s brief stint in captivity on U.S. soil, or the brutal attack by the Bratva-sponsored mercenaries that freed him. No. The story moved on, both sides burying their secrets while independently keeping a close eye on South America.
In 2008, the strategy nearly paid off — for the Americans. Zuyev surfaced unexpectedly in Montevideo, disappearing north into Uruguay’s highlands and returning a few days later with a much larger than usual security entourage. The significant departure from his normal routine attracted the CIA’s attention, resulting in a botched attempt by Berg’s private army to grab the scientist. Neither Zuyev nor Reznikov had been seen since, until the Russian Foreign Intelligence Agency (SVR) received an anonymous tip two weeks ago, indicating that Zuyev and Reznikov were hiding in a remote jungle location in Goa, India. Satellite imagery confirmed the presence of several unusual structures at the reported site, triggering the raid.
This was where the report once again went cloudy, unlike his memory. He distinctly remembered hearing one of the agents in the operations center tell Greshnev that the team needed to be “airborne” in two minutes. Kaparov wasn’t an expert on his country’s military capabilities, but he was pretty sure the Russian Federation didn’t have the ability to launch a helicopter raid in the vicinity of Goa, India. He didn’t even need to look at a map to know a land-based operation was physically impossible. A sea-based mission? He highly doubted it. The nearest accessible naval base was at Vladivostok, at least several thousand kilometers away, and the Russians had no way to refuel a ship that far from port.
If the Russians didn’t launch the helicopters, then who did? The answer was obvious, but Kaparov had no intention of broadcasting his guess. He’d been shuffled into the tactical operations center after the Alpha team debarked the helicopters, and shuffled out before they headed to the extraction site. Given a glimpse of the big game as a professional courtesy, in the new spirit of “cooperation” stinking up headquarters. Whatever. He didn’t give a shit how they got there. They didn’t get Reznikov, and that was the only thing that mattered. As long as Reznikov continued to draw oxygen, the world was a vastly more dangerous place.
So now what?
Kaparov read through the preliminary conclusions attached to the report, nodding with indifferent agreement. Yes. Yes. A monkey could have connected these dots. Obviously, someone snatched Reznikov close to the boat, which meant someone had known precisely when and where to grab him. The Russian team on the ground observed that the aluminum skiff had seating for three passengers, leaving Reznikov as the sole survivor. A wooden shedlike structure large enough to house an SUV had been found several hundred meters away near a rough jeep trail. Despite the pounding rain that hit the area the day after the raid, the team was able to find recent tire tracks on a few of the rises in the trail, headed south. No boot prints were found near the shed due to the rain.
The prevailing theory at this point was that Reznikov took advantage of the darkness and confusion to kill his Bratva escort and escape. He’d stabbed Zuyev in the throat with a hidden knife and then shot Ageykin in the head with Zuyev’s pistol. On the surface, the theory made sense. Goa wouldn’t be the first time that the scientist had pulled a fast one on his captors. Three Al Qaeda operatives had been found shot to death near a suspected makeshift bioweapons laboratory site in Semipalatinsk, Kazakhstan, a few weeks before Reznikov infected Monchegorsk’s water supply with the Zulu virus.
Kaparov squinted at the page, feeling the urge to break his recent pledge to quit smoking in his office. Something about the theory felt uninspired, like the investigative work routinely submitted by the younger generation of agents seated right outside his office door. So easily offended by cigarette smoke and foul language, quick to jump to conclusions based on “facts,” so they could turn in a shitty report and snag a seat on the Metro for their long rides to the suburbs. There was more to this story than an opportunistic escape. Reznikov wouldn’t have lasted more than a few hours on his own in that jungle. Even if he had found the stashed vehicle — in the dark, in a panic, on his own — where would he have gone? No. He had help. Three seats in a boat did not limit a boat to three people.
Another person in play expanded the field of theories. The third guard could have seized the opportunity at the last moment to steal Reznikov for himself and sell him to the highest bidder. Presumably, they had stopped at a preplanned location, which included the stashed vehicle, which would have been known to the security detail. Or even better, the third guard could have dropped the anonymous tip, triggering the raid and the preplanned river escape. But how would he know when to expect the raid? And what if the raid had included a river element?
His mind drifted back to the Reznikov theory. Maybe he’d struck a deal with a Bratva guard or one of the far less loyal Russian mercenaries. Either way, it meant Reznikov had help, and figuring out who helped him was their only hope of finding the rogue bioweapons scientist. Kaparov had an idea, but it was a long shot. Of course, his scheme would require some discreet assistance.
Chapter 10
Yuri Prerovsky studied the floor-to-ceiling flowchart that covered most of the wall outside his office. Comprised of color headshot photos with brief captions, the chart visually outlined the known connections between the different leaders and groups within the Solntsevskaya Bratva criminal gang. Three rows of loosely arranged folding chairs sat empty behind him, waiting for tomorrow morning’s division update, when his boss would unveil one of the biggest changes to the Solntsevskaya’s leadership roster in the past several years.
Valery Zuyev’s long absence from the Moscow scene had just become permanent, erasing any continued speculation. Of course, Prerovsky would have to play dumb, like he had several minutes ago when his immediate boss told him to remove Zuyev from the wall. Nobody within the Organized Crime (OC) Division knew the real story behind Zuyev’s sudden retirement. Center of Special Operations agents yanked information from his OC bosses without providing any context why they needed it. Standard operating procedure within the Federation Security Services. CSN operated in near complete secrecy, grabbing whatever it wanted without explanation, with the express approval of the director.
Despite the widespread disdain generated by CSN’s “grab and go” authority, Prerovsky appreciated the high level of secrecy. Arkady Baranov’s Center of Special Operations maintained a reputation for being incorruptible; a claim no other division within the greater Federation Security Services framework could make. Stringent background checks and surprise polygraph examinations ensured the highest recruit quality possible, but the key to CSN’s continued success in fighting off corruption had more to do with geography than the quality of its people.