James was visible between trees in the copse. Standing beside the mountain brook, he was cursing loudly because his fishing line had got caught in the trees. It was the third time today it had happened, much to Alfie’s amusement, though the ex-Special Forces man was the one who’d had to clamber up trees and untangle the line. Betty had disliked James on first meeting him-though no doubt highly intelligent, he was also pedantic, fussy, weak, and foolish-but the more time she spent in his company the more he’d endeared himself to her. He always got up at 6:00 A.M., called in to his law firm and lied to them that his wife was still ill and he needed to stay home to care for her, played cards with Alfie until the early hours, and washed dishes. And now he was hopelessly trying to catch their supper.
Betty looked around. Right now, the loch and its surrounding mountains had four climates. In the north, it was raining; east, snow was falling; west, the sky was clear and blue; and in the south, dark clouds obscured mountain peaks. She lowered her gaze and looked at the track. At the top of it was a stationary blue car.
Alfie reached her and said, “Second sighting I’ve had. What about you, petal?”
“The same.” She kept her gaze fixed on the vehicle.
“Do we move locations on the third or fourth sighting?”
“Third sighting.”
Alfie put one hand into his jacket pocket and placed a filterless cigarette into the corner of his mouth with the other. “I think you’re right. Reckon they’re just tourists who’re back for a photo shoot.” He lit his cigarette. “But third sighting means they’re a bunch of bad ’uns.”
Betty squeezed her husband’s hand and said quietly, “I can’t let Sarah see anything messy, angel. She’s in a bad enough way as it is.” She sat down on the frozen heath. “If anyone comes for us, we should try to minimize fuss.”
Alfie passed his half-smoked cigarette to Betty, who took a drag on it and gave it back to him. “Where is she?”
“On the sofa, doing nothing.”
“It’s to do with her brother, isn’t it?”
Betty nodded. “I think so.”
Alfie flicked ash off the cigarette. “Can never get my head around the deep and meaningful stuff.”
Betty kept her attention on the blue vehicle as it drove off. “That’s one of the reasons why I love you. You’re straightforward.”
Alfie grinned. “Either that, or it’s ’cos I ain’t got the brain cells to know how to answer you back.” An idea came to him. “After lunch how about I drive her to Lochcarron, make her useful, tell her she’s got to buy some stuff for dinner, and by the way she’s cooking?”
“It’s worth a try.” Betty held her hand out, and Alfie gripped it and pulled her to her feet. “I’ll get lunch on. Be a love and help James with his tangled line. But don’t call him a stupid plonker this time.”
“Right you are.” As Betty walked off to the lodge, Alfie placed his concealed handgun’s safety catch on, withdrew his hand from his jacket, watched the stationary blue car, and muttered under his breath, “Best you don’t come back.”
One of Kurt Schreiber’s men watched Alfie through his sniper rifle’s telescopic sight. “He’s looking in our direction, but there’s no chance he can see into our car from this distance.”
His colleague turned on the ignition. “Let him watch. The others are all in position to take over surveillance.”
Four three-man teams, all secreted in the mountains around the lodge.
“Glad they’re the ones who have to freeze their balls off today. And I’ll be gladder still when Schreiber gives us the order to gun her down.”
“Don’t worry. Any day now.” Keeping Alfie’s head in the crosshairs of his rifle, the sniper mimicked the sound of firing a silenced bullet.
Twenty-Two
"Got it!” Suzy beamed as she stared at her laptop screen. “Mikhail Salkov.”
“You’re certain?” Will placed a hand on the Auguststrasse dining table and leaned over her shoulder, looking at the computer.
The CIA analyst nodded. “It’s taken me days to be certain. I’m damn sure he’s the one.”
“How did you get him?”
“Postings. I focused on the double agent files where we’d recruited agents being run by Russian officers posted overseas.”
Wherein those Russian intelligence officers would be posted as diplomats and their real names declared to the host country.
“Had to trawl through over a thousand files to narrow it down to these four.” She moved the cursor until the screen contained four scanned CIA contact reports. Pointing at the screen, she said, “These two Russian CIA agents were run out of the Russian embassy in Paris four years ago. Look.” She tapped a finger. “Agent Folex informs his CIA handler that his SVR handler Trofim Vygotsky is leaving France in one week and is being replaced by Mikhail Salkov; that Salkov will be his new handler. And here,” she moved her finger, “Agent Estler tells a different CIA handler the same thing. The second report is one day older than the first.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Hold on.” Suzy closed the reports, leaving two on her screen. “One year ago, two Russian CIA double agents are being run out of the Russian embassy in Oslo. Agent Adras and agent Shorm tell their CIA handlers that their SVR handler, a diplomat called Georgii Bordyuzha, is returning to a job in head office. He’s being replaced by Salkov and a handover meeting’s being arranged.”
“Still doesn’t mean that the SVR officer who’s chasing the same paper as us is Mikhail Salkov.” Will frowned as a thought came to him. “How long was Salkov posted to Paris and Oslo?”
Suzy smiled. “I knew you weren’t just a pretty face. There are two reasons why Salkov’s name jumps out at me, and your question relates to one of them.”
“He was only posted to Paris and Oslo for brief periods?”
“Exactly. Paris: two months; Oslo: six weeks.”
“Parachuted in to troubleshoot.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“And the second reason?”
Suzy closed her laptop and turned to Will. “Salkov meets Folex and Estler. One week later their bodies wash up on the shores of the river Seine, their necks broken. Salkov meets Adras and Shorm. Next day, Adras is hit by a speeding car; Shorm is robbed and stabbed to death in the backstreets of Oslo.”
“SVR thinks they’ve got leaky agents in France and Norway, so it sends in a man to plug the holes.” Will moved away from Suzy and stood next to Peter, who was staring at the whiteboard containing questions and possible answers.
Peter nodded. “You were right, Will.” On the board, he wrote Mikhail Salkov: Spycatcher.
Suzy stretched her back. “I haven’t analyzed MI6 double agent files because they won’t release an encrypted stick for me to read their files out here. But I’m sure Mikhail’s name will turn up alongside the deaths of some of their agents as well.”
“So do I.” Peter smiled, walked quickly to Suzy and to her surprise gave the American analyst a hug. “Excellent work, Suzy Sue!”
Suzy smiled, looked happy. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Huggin’s good.” Laith yawned as he entered the room holding the book Will had bought Suzy. “Chapter Four says that embraces cause the release of endorphins that produce a feeling of contentment between mother and baby; it explains that you can get that release at work just as easily as at home or in a gym.” He put an electronic cigarette in his mouth.