She intended to have a sizable bomb placed under whatever vehicle Major Shepherd drove to meet her. The café they were meeting at was close to his base, and he would be able to get back quickly. If all went as planned, they would still be at brunch when the news of the Russian incursion into Estonia reached him. She could picture him rushing back to his car and racing to the base. As soon as he reached the main entrance, another confederate would remotely detonate the bomb, causing all kinds of chaos and confusion.
It would also leave the marines, who Fannie understood to be the elite fighting force of the U.S. military, in disarray.
She could catch up on sleep sometime after that.
Mike Rosenberg could eliminate many of the numbers on the toll records he had taken from the office. It was a long shot, and the fact that the number was scrawled on the side of an application for a Swiss bank account in Bern might not have meant anything, but there were a bunch of calls to capitals all over Europe, as well as to cell phones that appeared to have come from Jordan and Syria. He did his best to eliminate the numbers he could find working through databases on the Internet. Some of the databases were well known and some much harder to find. Mostly all he could tell was if a number was a commercial number or not.
He also separated the numbers that had been called more than once and then grouped them by country. It appeared that whoever used the phone lived in Germany and made a number of calls in the Stuttgart area.
He swigged another gulp of coffee as he sat at his kitchen counter with CNN running on the TV in the living room. He had always thrived on doing several things at once. It was his job to stay up on current events, and at least he felt like he wasn’t shirking his duties at the CIA while he worked on his own project.
It seemed that the lone wolf terror attacks had calmed down the protests across most of Europe and the United States. Even the Germans were saying that the protesters killed in front of the army base where his friend Bill Shepherd was stationed was the result of a suicide bomber. They had identified the man as a disaffected French youth who lived in one of the “no go” areas that housed so many Muslims.
As always, Rosenberg perked up at any reports on the Russian economy. Every couple of years, people wanted to dismiss Russia as any sort of threat to the United States, and every couple of years, they were proven incorrect. With its economy in shambles and the price of oil still below profitability, Russia was becoming desperate to make itself relevant. More accurately, Vladimir Putin was becoming desperate to make Russia relevant, as well as to keep citizens supporting him.
The Russian military was still a potent threat, and one that no one with any brains underestimated. What Rosenberg was listening for was any information about the cyberattack that had hit Western Russia.
He paused for a moment as video of Russian tanks played on the screen, but there was no mention of any computer glitches.
At almost the same time, his eye caught a number on the sheet he was scanning. Something about the number seemed familiar and held his attention. Then he had an uneasy feeling as he reached for his own phone.
It only took a moment to confirm that whoever owned this phone in Germany and contacted so many people around the world, including Middle Easterners, also had called his friend Bill Shepherd.
29
Walsh waited a full minute before he stood from the edge of the bathtub and stumbled out of the bathroom, back into the living room of the apartment where he was being held. The Russian with the scar on his face, Serge Blattkoff, and Alena all sat casually on the couch together. It was clear to him that Alena had been the linchpin of this conspiracy from the beginning. He had these wild ideas that dozens of people were involved when, in fact, it looked like it was only his girlfriend.
The older Russian motioned him toward the La-Z-Boy on the other side of the room, where he gladly plopped, then worked the handle to elevate his feet. His legs felt weak, and the acid in his stomach wanted to burn a hole through his skin. The only bright side he saw was that he would probably be killed shortly and none of this would matter.
The man with the scar said, “My name is Joe. And like you, I am a soldier. I haven’t enjoyed any of this.”
Walsh said, “That makes two of us.”
Joe said, “I can see how surprised you are. That’s the whole idea. You’re a smart guy, you were in the marines. You have to know this sort of game goes on all the time.”
“What game?” The exhaustion now was in his voice.
“Spying and connected operations.”
He focused on Alena and said, “From the beginning?”
At least she looked guilty. And she couldn’t speak. It was Joe who said, “You brought this on yourself. You showed a weakness for women when you were in the marines in Germany. A man who has a thing for blond girls is an easy target.”
“My girlfriend in Germany was a spy, too?”
Now Joe chuckled. “I’m afraid you’re giving yourself a little too much importance. No, she was just some drug-addled beauty. But we decided if she could cause that much trouble for you we could arrange for one of our exchange students to bump into you.” He ran his hand through Alena’s hair, then patted her on her shoulder.
It made Walsh shudder, and Alena pulled away from the older man’s touch.
Joe said, “The day we made the transfer of money to Switzerland, we had two protesters stop you outside your office to grab your security plug.”
Walsh remembered the encounter and how he reacted aggressively. He had inadvertently thwarted their first plan.
“When that didn’t work, we had to use dear Alena to slip the plug out of your pocket before you went to dinner. While you were away a couple of hours, many of the world’s most despicable terrorists were having their coffers replenished with money from accounts held at Thomas Brothers Financial. The accounts were carefully chosen. They were long-term accounts not often utilized or audited. I’m sure your country’s FBI has figured that out by now.”
Walsh said, “So you picked Thomas Brothers because of me?”
“Not entirely, but you were a pleasant and easily accessible surprise. In fact, you were the perfect dupe. We just had no idea we’d be able to use you so effectively. Now it’s simply a matter of tying up some loose ends.”
“So that’s all I am? A loose end.”
“No, Mr. Walsh, you’re much more than a loose end. You see, everyone else is a contract employee, doing this for money. I’m the only one with other motives. I have to live with the results of our activities long after we are done. You are more than a loose end; you have also been a major pain in the ass. That’s why I’m not going to waste any more time with you. Tell me where the security plug is or my friend Serge is going to snip off your fingers and then your penis. All in a matter of a few minutes.” He paused as Serge held up a heavy pair of shears that looked like some kind of surgical tool.
Joe added, “Is that really what you want?”
All Walsh could do was think, No, I don’t want that at all.
Mike Rosenberg was in a panic. But like any good marine, he got over it quickly and took action. The first thing he did was grab his personal cell phone and immediately press the contact for Bill Shepherd. He had no idea why his friend’s phone number was on a potential terrorist’s list of calls, but the two of them could figure it out. He just needed to reach him.