“You’re welcome, American,” he said, patting my back. “Now let’s get you both home.”
Chapter 59
Feo took us back to the Residence in his brown UAZ Pickup truck. Dinara sat in the second row and said nothing as we drove through the quiet city. It was a few minutes after two in the morning, and the roads were almost deserted. The apartment where we’d been captives was in a rundown estate in Solntsevo, to the southwest of the city. Our journey to Kuzminki took twenty-five minutes, and Feo tried to start a couple of conversations, before eventually reading the mood. He turned on the stereo, which played a Pink Floyd compilation.
Dinara looked shell-shocked, and she avoided meeting my gaze whenever I glanced back at her. We’d found our clothes and got dressed, but she looked as though she still felt exposed. We’d shared an extreme experience and had been forced to confront death. I felt ashamed I hadn’t been able to do anything to protect her. Did she think me weak? Did she hate me for my failure?
When we reached the Residence, Dinara made to go straight to her room without saying a word, but Feo grabbed her and uttered something in Russian.
She still looked distressed, but she nodded and went into the smaller of the two recreation rooms that lay off the lobby.
“I told her she needed medical attention,” Feo explained. “And so do you. Then you can rest.”
I didn’t object when he steered me toward the recreation room. As we got closer, I heard the rowdy chatter of a large group, and when we stepped inside I saw fifteen men and women seated around a large table. They were passing four large bottles of vodka between them. Dinara had taken a seat at the table, near Leonid, who noticed me enter.
“American! Boss man!” he yelled, clearly drunk. “I hear you had some problems.”
I looked at Dinara, who turned away.
“No matter,” Leonid said. “Vodka will fix you.”
“Medical attention,” Feo explained mischievously.
There were shouts of approval as I took a seat at the table almost directly opposite Dinara.
Someone passed me a shot glass, and my neighbor, a bald man with rough stubble, filled it. I necked the shot and immediately felt its warmth spread throughout my body. The glass was refilled to murmurs of approval, and I knocked back a second shot.
My glass was refilled a third time, and I realized this process would continue as long as I kept drinking, so I left the glass alone and the bottle moved on.
“I owe you my thanks,” I said to Leonid.
“Of course,” he replied loudly. “And to Lera and Kiril.” He gestured at a man and woman to his left, and I recognized them as the middle-aged couple from the bridge. “They did the real work.”
“Thank you,” I said.
My neighbors turned to the people on the other side of them, and I was left alone. Dinara threw a couple of furtive glances in my direction, but otherwise I sat surrounded by chatter I couldn’t understand. The alcohol eased its way into my system, and the tension I’d felt all night melted away. As I replayed events in my head, I found myself struggling to hold on to a memory long enough to blame myself for what had happened. Everything was foggy and distant and I glanced down at my shot glass and wondered just how strong the vodka was. Realizing I’d had enough, I got to my feet.
“Goodnight,” I said.
Everyone jeered.
“Never leave a full glass on the table,” Leonid yelled above the noise, and his words triggered fresh derision.
I raised the brimming shot glass and downed it in a single gulp. The jeers turned to cheers and I left the room to the sound of their drunken approval.
I walked through the building to the quiet residential wings and found my way to my room. I’d just stepped inside when there was a knock on my door.
I opened it and found Dinara outside. She looked up at me and hesitated.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, and if she’d had anywhere near as much vodka as me, I could understand why.
“What for?” I asked.
“I should have seen it was a trap,” she replied. “I should have...”
I thought she was going to break down, so I held her by the shoulders.
“I shouldn’t have let us get in that situation,” I said. “It’s on me.”
We stood staring at each other, both blaming ourselves for what had happened. I could feel the warmth of her body beneath my fingertips.
“Make up your minds,” Leonid slurred as he staggered into the corridor. “Your room or hers.”
I took my hands away, and Dinara backed up.
“I’m going to ignore that because we owe you our lives,” she said.
“Too right,” he replied, passing between us.
“Shouldn’t you be on a stakeout?” I asked.
“I have my underlings watching Utkin,” he replied. “A chief doesn’t work the night shift. Goodnight to you both,” he said.
He stepped inside his room and shut his door, and Dinara and I stood there eying each other for a moment. I realized I was caught up in the emotions of what had happened and my professional judgment was in danger of being swept away on a tide of vodka.
“I’d better...” I said, taking a step back.
“Me too,” Dinara agreed.
She crossed the corridor.
“Goodnight,” she said, and she went into her room and quickly shut the door.
I did likewise, and collapsed on my bed, laces tied, clothes on. Within moments, I was deep asleep.
Chapter 60
My phone woke me from a dreamless sleep at 9:15 the next morning. My eyes were raw and my head pounded. My arms ached from having been suspended in a stress position, and I winced as I answered the call.
“Jack?” Justine said.
“Yeah,” I croaked. “What time is it there?”
“Quarter past two in the morning. We’re working round the clock,” she replied.
I rubbed my face and sat up.
“What’s been happening over there?” Justine asked. “I couldn’t get hold of anyone.”
I should have told her about my abduction by Veles, but I didn’t want her to worry.
“We’re following up some leads,” I replied blandly. “We caught a name: Veles. Probably Spetsnaz or Russian intelligence. Can you ask Mo to run an alias search? See what it flags up.”
“Will do,” she said. “I’ve sent Dinara everything we could get on Ernie Fisher, Robert Carlyle, Karl Parker and Elizabeth Connor. Personnel records, school transcripts, service histories.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you with her?” Justine asked.
It was a loaded question, and after the events of the previous night, I just couldn’t face it head on.
“Not right now, no,” I replied. “Anything else?”
There was a pause.
“No,” she replied at last.
“Stay in touch,” I said, before hanging up.
Twenty minutes later, I’d showered and got dressed, and, feeling a little more human, left my room and knocked on Dinara’s door. There was no answer, so I tried Leonid’s, but his room was also silent.
I went into the main building and found a few late risers finishing breakfast in the dining hall. I recognized some of them from the previous night’s vodka session, and when they waved at me, I nodded in reply.
I finally found Dinara in the library, where she was working alone, hunched over her computer. She looked fresh, free of any sign of her abduction and traumatic ordeal.
“Morning,” I said.
She looked up and shifted awkwardly. “Good morning,” she replied. “Justine has sent us some information on Ernest Fisher and Robert Carlyle. I’ve been pulling out the highlights.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
She shook her head, and I grabbed a chair. The library was one of the few rooms that didn’t look as though it had undergone any refurbishment since the place had been converted from a school. Books were arranged on low, child-friendly shelves, and classroom tables had been pushed together in clusters of four to create reading areas.
Dinara was at the cluster nearest the windows, overlooking football goals and a playing field that was buried beneath snow. She had a series of applications open on her laptop, but she was currently working on a simple document that listed key moments in Ernie Fisher’s life, from his birth in Featherville, a tiny settlement in Idaho, to his appointment as the US ambassador’s chief of staff.
“That’s interesting,” I remarked. “He and Karl Parker were both born and raised in small Midwest towns.”
“And both enlisted in the Marine Corps within two years of each other,” Dinara observed.
“Fisher was a couple of years older than Karl,” I said. “Similar academic profiles too. Solid but nothing flashy. Certainly nothing to indicate their later achievements.”
“What about Robert Carlyle?” I asked.
Dinara opened a similar document and showed me the Washington financier’s potted history. “Born in Arminto, Wyoming, enlisted in the Marines aged eighteen,” she said.
“There’s a pattern,” I remarked.
I thought about the key I’d found in Ernie Fisher’s apartment.
“What if their similarities aren’t just in the past?” I asked. “What if the key is for a safe in a warehouse like the one Karl Parker had? Someplace secret. Completely off the books.”
“He was planning to leave,” Dinara remarked.
“So his next stop was going to be to collect his passport and whatever else he needed,” I surmised. “It will be somewhere close by. Like Karl’s, it will be in the city, someplace Fisher could get to quickly.
“Any idea how we find it?”
“Old-fashioned detective work,” I replied. “We canvass. It’s time-consuming, but I don’t see any other way. We start at the epicenter, Fisher’s home, and work our way out.”