The CIA must have had someone inside the SVR or access to the central identification database to have created authentic records. There were long-standing rumors the Russians had a back door into the visa systems of western nations, and it wouldn’t be surprising if the Americans had even more sophisticated capabilities to generate false Russian credentials, including intelligence identification. However she’d done it, Erin Sebold had provided us with identities that stood up to official scrutiny.
A little further along the inner access road, another guard in a heavy coat waved us toward a vast parking lot that lay to the east of the sprawling complex.
“This is as far as we go,” Anna said after she’d pulled into a parking space. “A police escort inside the building would raise questions.”
I opened the flight case West had given me, and distributed the gear. Dinara and I each took a tiny in-ear transceiver, and I gave Anna and Feo handheld relay units they could use to talk to us and link to the phone network.
“When we get inside, connect us to the number stored in preset one,” I said, and Anna nodded.
“You ready?” I asked Dinara.
“Let’s go,” she said.
“Good luck,” Feo called after us as we left the police car. Dinara and I crossed the parking lot, which was almost completely full.
“It’s busy for a Sunday,” I observed.
“The SVR never sleeps,” Dinara replied.
Each car represented at least one person, and I estimated more than 350 vehicles. There were a lot of people in this complex, and every single one of them had to be considered an enemy.
Dinara produced the pistol Feo had given her. She checked the weapon before putting it back inside her purse.
“If anything goes wrong,” she said, “you need to know I won’t let myself be taken alive.”
With my mind playing out the implications of that grim statement, we headed for the imposing white headstone that loomed high above us.
Chapter 93
Dinara Orlova pinned a stern, officious expression to her face as they entered SVR headquarters. The tall office block was one of the most secure places in Russia and, no matter how hard her heart pounded and her stomach churned, she was determined to look as though she belonged.
She and Jack passed through a metal detector without incident. They had nothing other than their SVR credentials, some money and the pistol Feo had given her, which was in the purse that was sliding into the X-ray machine. The CIA transceivers were constructed of a composite material that evaded the metal detector and the more thorough wand search performed by a guard. They were then waved on to a second uniformed guard, who conducted a fingertip physical search of them both.
“Your weapon will be stored until you leave,” said one of the guards staffing the X-ray machine.
He put the pistol in a nearby locker, and handed Dinara a token.
“Thanks,” Dinara replied in Russian, but as they walked away, she shared a look of concern with Jack. They’d lost their only weapon.
Erin Sebold had informed them Salko was located on the executive floor, and as they made their way to the elevators, Dinara chatted to Jack in Russian, and they both made an effort to appear at ease when they passed SVR personnel.
They took one of the cars to the twenty-first floor, and stepped into a quiet corridor. Dinara had been to SVR headquarters before, but she had never seen the executive floor. According to Erin’s information, Salko had a large office in the northwest corner of the building.
They started toward it, and walked past a line of offices, complete with outer cubicles where administrative assistants sat. They attracted a couple of inquiring looks as they passed, but most of the men and women were too busy with their work to pay them much attention.
“Hey!” a voice yelled behind them.
Dinara turned and saw a face she recognized. It was poking out of one of the offices they’d passed. It was Spiridon Fomin, a former colleague from the FSB. He must have transferred to the SVR.
“Dinara Orlova,” he said. “I thought that was you.”
His tone was not that of a man who knew she was a wanted criminal, and her initial flush of panic subsided.
“What are you doing here?” he asked as he approached. “You’re looking great.”
Spiro was a tanned, dark-haired former sprinter who exploited his good looks as often as he could. Despite his best efforts, Dinara had never succumbed to his charms.
“You’ve moved up in the world, Spiro,” she said.
He smiled and nodded. “Who’s your friend?” he asked.
Jack looked at the man and smiled blankly.
“I didn’t know you’d transferred,” Dinara said enthusiastically, trying to change the subject. It wouldn’t take him long to realize Jack couldn’t speak a word of Russian. “It’s so good to see you. We have a few minutes. Is there somewhere we can catch up?”
“Sure,” Spiro replied. “My office.”
He gestured for them to follow, and led Dinara and Jack past his administrative assistant into the large room that lay beyond.
“This is quite some place,” Dinara said, trading a conspiratorial glance with Jack. “You must be doing well.”
“Can I get you a drink?” Spiro asked, going to a console that took up an entire wall. He opened a cabinet to reveal an extensive liquor collection.
“I’ll have a martini,” Dinara said, closing the office door.
Spiro turned around to fix her drink. “And your friend?” he asked. “Sorry, I didn’t catch his—”
When Spiro had turned to the liquor cabinet, Jack had crossed the room silently, and Dinara watched him wrap his arms around Spiro’s neck, cutting him off mid-sentence. Spiro dropped the cocktail shaker onto the thick carpet, and made a rapid succession of choking sounds as he struggled against Jack’s relentless grasp. Finally, the fight left him, and he fell to the floor.
Jack checked his pulse. “He’s down, but not dead. Come on, we don’t have long.”
Chapter 94
We walked out of the SVR executive’s office as though it was just any normal day. Dinara said something in Russian before she shut the door behind us, and the man’s assistant glanced up from her work and gave a knowing smile.
I was shocked when Dinara lashed out at the woman, knocking her unconscious with a couple of quick punches.
“Help me get her inside,” she said.
I glanced around nervously. Cubicle dividers prevented the other executive assistants from seeing, but if anyone walked along the corridor...
I grabbed the woman’s shoulders and Dinara took her feet, and we carried her inside her boss’s office, and laid her on the floor beside him.
“I told her he was having an afternoon nap, but the first thing she would have done when we set the alarm off would have been to try to wake him up,” Dinara explained as we left the room.
“Good work,” I whispered as we hurried along the corridor toward the fire stairs Erin had told us were located near Salko’s office.
We found the fire escape where we’d expected, and went into the stairwell.
“Ready?” I asked, and Dinara nodded.
I smashed a tiny glass panel, and activated the fire alarm. A klaxon sounded almost immediately, and we ran up two flights of stairs to the upper service level before the first people began streaming through the fire doors below us. We concealed ourselves behind an air-conditioning unit, and the stairwell filled with people chatting as they shuffled downstairs.
When the last of them had left, we hurried down to the twenty-first floor, quickly slipped through the fire door, and sprinted to Salko’s office.