Private Moscow

Chapter 95

“Are you going to be OK?” I asked Anna and Feo.

Anna shivered in the evening chill, and nodded.

“We have our cover story, if we need it,” Feo explained. “You took us hostage at gunpoint and forced us to drive you to SVR headquarters.”

“Mr. Morgan,” West said, “we have to go now.”

He stood beside the modified Land Rover, and eyed Veyernaya Street anxiously. There was no one else to be seen, and the surrounding industrial units stood idle.

“Take care,” I said, shaking Anna Bolshova’s hand. “And thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“Good luck, Mr. Morgan,” she replied.

I offered Feo my hand, but he pulled me in for a hug. “We’re family now. You let me know if you ever need anything else, American, OK?”

“Thank you, Feo. That means a lot,” I said when he released me.

Dinara said her farewells in Russian, and minutes later we were in the Land Rover, watching Moscow roll by as West headed for the embassy. When we were a few blocks from Bolshoy Devyatinsky Lane, Dinara and I returned to the secret compartment, and West smuggled us through the police checkpoint.

An hour later, having been debriefed by Erin Sebold, who was in awe of our audacious, simple plan, we were waiting impatiently in the secure meeting room on the third floor.

“What’s taking so long?” Dinara asked. “We should never have handed it over.”

“The tools they have in this building will outperform anything else, even the tech we have at Private,” I replied.

The door opened and Carrie Underwood entered. “The ambassador would like to see you,” she said.

We followed her to Thomas Dussler’s office, and found him with Erin Sebold and Master Gunnery Sergeant West. Dussler greeted us warmly, and invited us to take a seat. Erin watched us with a mix of glee and astonishment.

“I don’t know how you pulled it off, Mr. Morgan. You must have diamond-hard nerves. You’ve given us enough intel to keep our analysts busy for years. All of Salko’s files. It’s a treasure trove,” she said. “The downside is that Salko is livid. Surveillance footage clearly identified you. He’s accused you of being CIA spies and is demanding we hand you over with the stolen data. We’re pleading ignorance, of course.”

“You get anything on Veles?” I asked.

“A series of communiqués,” Erin replied. “They’re coded, but we’ve been able to decipher the most recent one. It orders Veles back to the United States to protect Minerva. Salko is concerned you might know Minerva’s identity.”

“Minerva?” I remarked.

“We’re going through any records that refer to Bright Star. There aren’t many, which suggests Salko keeps any data related to that program somewhere else, but there is a report to the President, saying Minerva is the culmination of the Bright Star program and will redefine Russia’s place in the world.”

“Nothing else?” I asked.

Erin shook her head. “There might be some other coded material, but that’s all we’ve found so far. Naturally the identification of Minerva has become an Agency priority. We’re coordinating with the NSA and FBI to expedite the process.”

I knew what was coming. I could sense the shift in the air. The plumbers had fixed the broken pipes and now the owners wanted them out of their house.

“We appreciate everything you’ve done, Mr. Morgan,” Erin said, “but this is now a national security matter. We’ll take it from here.”

I fought the urge to sneer, and looked at Dinara, who smiled wryly.

“You can’t stay in Moscow,” Dussler said. “Your continued presence here is likely to spark a serious diplomatic incident. According to our information, Director Salko is willing to tear the world apart to get to you.”

“We’ve arranged transit for you back to the States,” Erin revealed. “Wherever you need to go.”

“And Dinara?” I asked.

Erin hesitated.

“You think I’m leaving her here after what happened to Leonid Boykov?”

“A second passenger won’t be a problem, will it, Ms. Sebold?” Dussler asked.

Erin shook her head. “Of course not, sir. Master Gunnery Sergeant West will take you to the airport. We have a plane waiting, and we’d like to have you airborne within the hour.”

“In that case, we should get going,” I said, getting to my feet.

Dussler offered me his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan. We can’t make any of this public, but we will try to clear your name, and I’ll be sharing a full report with the President.”

“I understand, Ambassador Dussler,” I replied. “And I appreciate whatever you can do. Ready, Master Gunnery Sergeant?”

West nodded. “Let’s get you home, Mr. Morgan.”