The Ajax Protocol

CHAPTER 17

Vysotsky's investigators had uncovered the scorched remains of a device in the ruins of the Central Bank of Novosibirsk, a receiver for the signal that had driven the city mad. There was no way to know who had made it. On the other hand, it hadn't taken long to identify and arrest the person who had placed it. He was a bank teller with financial problems.

Korov had come to interrogate him. The prisoner was being held in a military prison built in the days of the Czar. It wasn't far from the old Lubyanka prison in central Moscow. Like the Lubyanka, it was not a place anyone wanted to find themselves. The massive building was made out of stone. The walls were cold and rough and sweated during the hot days of a Moscow summer. In winter, the cells were freezing.

The prison was run by the GRU, the Glavnoye Razvedyvatel'noye Upravleniye, Military Intelligence. SVR and GRU had a long standing relationship of mutual cooperation. No one asked any unnecessary questions. No one was very concerned with the welfare of the prisoner. You didn't come to this place because someone was looking out for your welfare.

"This way, Colonel."

Korov's escort was a brutish Senior Sergeant named Grigorev. He smelled of garlic and looked like a man who spent too much time in places with no sunlight. His skin was pale and he needed a shave. His face was dark with shadow, even though it was early in the afternoon.

To reach the cells, everyone went through a passage guarded by iron gates that had served the same purpose before the October revolution. Korov and his escort waited as each one clanked open in turn and closed behind them. They descended worn steps to the lower level. The steps opened onto a hallway lined with dozens of faceless iron doors with numbers.

Grigorev stopped in front of number 17. The door had been painted green, long ago. The paint was chipped and scarred. A narrow slot allowed the passage of food into the cell. A circular viewport covered with a movable shield let the jailer observe the prisoner.

Korov slid the metal covering aside and peered in. There was no window in the stone room. Light came from one dim bulb hung somewhere high above. The floor was of stone. In the far corner of the room a foul hole lined with dried excrement served as a toilet. A thin mattress marred by dark stains was laid on the floor. It was the only thing in the room except for the man lying on it.

The prisoner's hair was matted with blood. His arm rested at an odd angle where it lay across his chest. His mouth was open as his breath rasped in and out. The mouth was bloody. Several teeth were missing. His eyes were blackened, swollen and closed.

"What happened to him?" Korov said.

Grigorev shrugged. "He was unruly. We had to teach him the rules."

"Ah."

Korov concealed his distaste and reminded himself that this prisoner was a traitor.

"Open the door."

Grigorev placed an old fashioned key made of heavy metal into the lock and turned. The door swung open.

"Prisoner! Stand!" Grigorev shouted at the man.

The man's name was Litvenenko. He tried to raise himself on one arm and fell back against the mattress.

Grigorev moved toward him but Korov laid a hand on his arm.

"It's alright. I don't think he can stand up. I'll talk to him there."

"As you wish, Colonel."

Korov stepped into the cell. The prisoner had soiled himself. Korov held his finger under his nose as the stench of the man and the filth hit him.

Korov squatted down beside Litvenenko. "I am Colonel Korov. I am your only hope. Do you understand?"

Litvenenko opened an eye.

"Do you understand?" Korov said again.

"Da. Understand." The voice was hoarse, choked with phlegm.

"Good. I will only ask a question once. If you lie, I'll know it. If you lie, I'll leave you in the care of Sergeant Grigorev. Do you understand?"

Korov saw the fear in the man's eyes. He hated this, but it had to be done. He had to know who had bribed this man. Someone had given him that device. Someone had told him to place it exactly where it had been placed. Korov needed to know who it was.

"Yes, understand."

"You placed a package in the central bank."

"No, it wasn't me."

"No? Then why are you here?"

"I swear, it wasn't me. I gave the package to Yevchenko."

Korov looked at the Sergeant. "Why wasn't I told about this?"

"I don't know, Colonel. I was only told to bring you to the prisoner."

Korov turned back to Litvenenko. "Who is Yevchenko?"

"The janitor. He cleans up after everyone is gone."

Dimitri Yevchenko was on a list of people still missing after the riots. Korov had an almost photographic memory. He remembered seeing the name. The man was listed as an employee of the bank.

"Why did you have to give it to someone else? Why couldn't you place it yourself?"

"The manager, Kaminsky. He was always the last out. He always made everyone else leave before he locked up. Only Yevchenko could stay."

"Who gave you the package?"

"A man, I don't know, I swear. Just a man. He told me to give it to Yevchenko."

"What did he look like, this man?"

Litvenenko squinted through his swollen eyelids at Korov. "Like you. He looked like you."

"Swine," Grigorev said. "You are talking to an officer." He stepped forward and kicked the man in his ribs. Litvenenko screamed.

Korov raised his hand. "Enough, Sergeant. Wait outside. "

"Sir…"

"Wait outside."

Grigorev moved back to the door, scowling.

Korov said, "What do you mean, he looked like me?"

"Blond, like you, tall. Short hair, like a soldier. He paid me a hundred rubles. I was afraid, I thought maybe he was FSB. He said to give it to the janitor and tell him to leave it in Kaminsky's office after the bank closed. He said it was a surprise for Kaminsky and I shouldn't say anything about it because it would spoil the surprise."

Litvenenko coughed and spit blood onto the floor.

Korov shook his head at the man's stupidity and greed. "You didn't think that was a lot of money to give a package to a janitor?"

"I needed the money. Please, I didn't know. Please…"

He clawed at Arkady's sleeve. Korov pulled his arm back in disgust and stood. He thought about what the prisoner had said. It would be necessary to question him further, but Korov didn't think there was much more to be learned. The man was terrified, as he should be. Arkady had taken part in enough interrogations to know when someone was lying. Litvenenko was guilty of greed and poor judgement, but nothing more. He was an expendable part of someone's plan. Unfortunately for him, his greed would cost him his life. The Russian justice system was not noted for compassion and understanding.

Back outside the prison, Korov took a deep breath of the smog-filled Moscow air. A bus rumbled by, trailing black smoke and diesel fumes. After the stink of the cell it seemed like pure oxygen.

Time to report in. He wondered if his boss was going to share what he'd learned with the Americans.

Korov thought about the Americans, about Nick and Selena and the others. Especially Selena. He'd never met a woman like her. Women in combat roles were nothing new in Russia, but they didn't have Selena's combination of beauty, skills and courage. She even spoke Russian like a native.

Twice, now, he'd seen her in action under fire. Once in America, in Texas. Once here in the Motherland. He wondered if he was going to see her again.

He'd like that.