Rasputin's Shadow

67

For a psychopath who was out to strike at the heart of America’s identity-an identity defined by freedom of expression, meritocracy, and a free press’s access to the highest levels of state-I couldn’t think of a more significant target than the White House Correspondents Dinner. Especially when this target came with guaranteed maximum media exposure.

They call it the nerd prom, hashtag and all, which is appropriate if you consider George Clooney and Sofía Vergara to be nerds. More than two and a half thousand of the nation’s most influential people-politicians, Hollywood celebrities, journalists, business leaders, and Supreme Court justices, among others-would be packed into the ballroom of the Washington Hilton for an evening of high-octane glamour that had all the glitz of the Oscars but without the interminable running time, the false modesty, or the embarrassment of cut-short acceptance speeches.

And not even the Oscars could boast the president of the United States as its guest of honor.

The gala had been broadcast live on C-SPAN for years, but in the last few years, with politics in America more polarized than ever and political humor more pointed than ever, it had become a huge mainstream event. Multiple entertainment outlets on television and online would be covering it due to its high-wattage celebrity host and attendees, who were all there as guests of the Association’s members.

The more I thought about it, the more I thought this was too potent a target for Koschey to pass up, even at such short notice.

He’d have plenty of other opportunities where the president would be present, of course. Welcoming speeches for foreign dignitaries on the White House lawn, cultural events at the Kennedy Center, major state functions-there was something big going on every week in the capital. But this one bested them all. Any attack on the president would be disastrous enough, but an attack that struck at the heart of not only the world’s press, but of the entertainment industry-and that also hit some of the most outspoken and influential voices in America-would be any terrorist’s perfect storm. Not to mention the implicit reprisal it would be for the 2011 dinner, which would always be remembered as part of the narrative that led to the killing, one day later, of bin Laden by SEAL Team Six.

It was tight, but if Koschey was going to do something, this felt like one hell of a night to do it.

“We’ve got to get down there,” I told them, then turned to Larisa and gestured at Sokolov. “And he’s coming with us.”

She didn’t hesitate. “So am I.”

I wasn’t sure about that. I raised a stern finger. “You can’t give your guys a heads-up. I don’t have time to lock horns with any welcoming party when we hit DC.”

“There won’t be one,” she said. “You’ve got my word on that.”

68

I looked out the window of our Bureau chopper and watched, with mounting anxiety, as the Statue of Liberty glided by in the late-afternoon light.

The president was scheduled to arrive at the Hilton in a little over two hours, and we’d be stuck in here and belted to our seats for more than half that time. It didn’t help that I knew that Koschey probably already had his plan all sorted out, whereas in our case, I wasn’t at all sure how we were going to handle this.

For starters, I couldn’t see how my talking to the Secret Service about this was going to work out, even with Everett there as my character reference. What was I going to tell them? “I have this hunch that there’s a clear and present threat from one man, but we have no description, name, or prints to give you. Oh, and he’s going to use some kind of microwave transmitter to turn you all into killers and have one of you gun down the president.”

That was going to be a fun conversation.

Not only could I see them not believing me, I could picture them detaining me for questioning, wondering what the hell I was playing at and what motives I had for making such an outlandish claim.

I wasn’t even sure we should tell them about what was going on, given that it was all based on a hunch. Then again, we couldn’t not tell them. Not with what was at stake. Worst case, nothing would happen and they’d think I’m ripe for a pink slip and a straightjacket. Best case, we save the leader of the free world. No contest. But the more I thought it through, the more I realized that we were probably going to be on our own. They weren’t going to give it the attention it deserved.

In a perverse way, deep down, I was hoping Koschey would be there, trying to pull this off. Despite the huge risk, despite my fear that the night could turn out to be a disaster of epic proportions for our country, at least we knew what he was up to and had a chance to take him down. If I was wrong and he wasn’t going to be there, if he wasn’t planning what I thought he was planning, then we would have no idea where or when he, or whoever he delivered the technology to, would surface again and use it. It could be in a day, a week, a year… Could be anywhere. We’d be clueless. And the disaster we would face in that uncertain future would be far more likely to succeed since we would be completely unprepared for it, and because of that, its outcome could be far worse. Far worse because it could also be much bigger. At least at the correspondents dinner, Koschey wouldn’t be able to hook it up to a whole network of cell towers. Or at least I hoped he wouldn’t be able to. But that would be a real possibility in the not-too-distant future, as Sokolov had confirmed. Which was another reason I was hoping we’d have a chance to take him down right away.

I glanced across at Sokolov, who was busy fiddling with the helmets we’d grabbed from the SWAT desk before getting on board. Our tech lab had also given us what little wire mesh they could get hold of at such short notice, and Sokolov was fitting it inside the Kevlar helmets. For such a sweet old guy, he had created something with truly monstrous potential. It was easy to understand why he pulled his disappearing act on our guys-which got me thinking about Corrigan again. He was one of the agents to whom Sokolov had given the slip. I was dying to ask Sokolov about him. Maybe he could tell me something about him that would help me out. A description, something, even after all these years. But now was not the time. It would have to wait.

I turned away from Sokolov and saw Larisa watching me.

“You all right?” she asked, her voice coming through the headset.

I shrugged. She slid off her headset and gestured for me to take off mine. She obviously wanted to have a private chat, away from Aparo, Sokolov, and the pilot. On choppers, all the headsets are linked to the same radio setup.

She leaned in close and spoke directly into my ear.

“Sokolov saying he didn’t think anyone should have it. Where are you on that?” Larisa asked.

I flashed on what her role had been in all this. I turned to her ear. “Your guys want him. That’s why they asked you to shadow me, to keep tabs on the investigation and let them know when to swoop in and take him off our hands.”

She didn’t seem that proud of it. “That was the plan.”

I didn’t say anything back and just looked at her.

“That doesn’t fit in with your game plan, does it?” she asked.

“Let’s just say I’ve seen the kind of stuff your guys don’t have a problem doing, and the idea of Sokolov’s baby ending up in their hands doesn’t exactly warm me up inside.”

“We do what we have to do,” she said. “We’re fighting many wars. It can get ugly.”

“Yeah, but messing around with a four-year-old kid’s brain to try and nab some drug lord… that’s not war. That’s just sick.”

Her face clouded with confusion. I guess she hadn’t been privy to my file yet, but from my tone and the way she looked at me, I think she realized that it had been something major for me.

“Am I missing something here?” she asked.

I wondered if Corrigan was still active, if he’d been pulling her strings all along. If he’d got me assigned to Sokolov’s case, maybe he’d chosen her, too. Which meant there was a chance that she knew him.

I just said, “Why don’t you ask your boss at Langley about that.” I was going to add, “And tell him I said I’ll be seeing him soon,” but I held back.

It would also have to wait.