“Of course.” He sat forward. “But this would require approval at a very high level. And by approval, I mean even if we were given the green light, they won’t acknowledge the mission. Relations with Russia are sensitive right now. The agency is not going to publicly do anything that could be linked to an international incident.”
“I understand. How good is your intel that an asset exists at Lefortovo, that this isn’t some lure by the Russians to get us to make a mistake?”
“We’re reasonably certain—”
“Don’t give me agency speak.” Jenkins stared at Lemore. “I want to know how certain you are.”
Lemore looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “As I said yesterday, we have HUMINT confirming that an asset was kept as a patient at the intensive care unit of the Hospital for War Veterans in Moscow.” HUMINT stood for human intelligence.
“When did that patient arrive at the hospital?”
“Undetermined.”
“Best estimate.”
“Intel started sending reports late January.”
Jenkins counted the days in his head as Lemore continued. He had returned to Russia—the second time—during the second week of January and spent approximately five days trying to get out of the country and another four to five days getting to Chios, Greece, before getting home.
“What about hospital records?”
Lemore shook his head. “The patient was never admitted, never given a name. Not even a John Doe.”
“You’re sure it’s a woman?”
“Reasonably, though the patient’s sex was also not documented. Intel said the hospital security was intense. The patient was kept isolated in a secure ward with FSB occasionally showing up dressed as doctors, nurses, and civilians.”
“How long was the patient in the hospital?”
“Approximately four months.”
“And then moved to Lefortovo?”
“Without any written records of discharge and no record of admittance at Lefortovo. The prisoner is being kept in an isolated prison block under secure measures with limited access.”
And inadequate medical attention, Jenkins knew, based upon recent findings by the European Court of Human Rights.
“What we’re being told is the asset refuses to speak,” Lemore said.
That sounded like Paulina. Tough as nails.
“How do you plan to get Federov to help you?” Lemore asked.
“There will need to be a financial incentive. He won’t do it for ideological reasons, and he isn’t going to be happy with me after I tell him what has happened to the money he did have.”
“I’m not sure I can get money—”
“Federov doesn’t need money . . . not yet anyway.” Jenkins told Lemore about the money Federov stole from Carl Emerson and split with him. When Jenkins checked his Swiss bank account balance that morning, it confirmed that Federov had deposited $4 million into the account on October twelfth the prior year, which meant he’d stolen roughly $10 million. “I need to steal that money so Federov has an incentive to get it back,” Jenkins said, and he had a plan to make that happen. If he could get Federov’s alias, he’d have Lemore’s computer gurus steal the money in Federov’s account also.
“To get access to my account I’m going to need to make a deposit, seed money, which will require the bank to unfreeze the account. When it does, I’m going to need technological support to steal it.”
“What if they won’t unfreeze the account?”
“You’ve studied Russia. Have you ever known a Russian bank to refuse money?” The question was rhetorical. “When the account is unfrozen, I need someone to hack the bank and quickly drain the money from my account. When I get the alias Federov used on his account, I’ll need someone to drain it as well, and transfer the money to a place where Federov and the Russians can’t get it back,” Jenkins said.
“I can get some people started on figuring out the technology side. If it can be done.”
“After we move the money from the two accounts, you keep the new account numbers until I have Paulina—if it is Paulina. When I tell you, you release the four million to Federov. When Paulina and I are back on American soil, you release the six million. That way, Federov will be less inclined to double-cross me.”
“Less inclined?”
“If he sees an opportunity to make more money . . .”
Lemore smiled. “Then this is a go. We’re going to do this?”
“You check with whoever you need to check with and get back to me, especially about the technological side, if it can be done. I have someone much more difficult to convince. One more thing,” Jenkins said. “You’ve heard the saying ‘fool me once’?”
“Shame on you,” Lemore said.
“Fool me twice . . .”
“Shame on me.”
“I have two children and a wife. Fool me twice and I’ll make you, and anyone else responsible, regret it.”
6
After putting CJ and Lizzie to bed, Jenkins and Alex wrapped themselves in warm clothing and blankets and went into the backyard to speak in private. On the concrete patio was a firepit surrounded by Adirondack chairs. Alex sat and placed the baby monitor in her lap so she could hear if Lizzie cried out.
Jenkins lit the fire and sat beside her. They sipped from Yeti tumblers with decaffeinated coffee and a shot of Bailey’s Irish Cream, and they looked to the darkened pasture. Jenkins could see the shadows of the three horses and occasionally hear them snort and snicker. The flickering flames crackled and popped and sent sparks dancing into the star-laced sky. The subject on both their minds soon came to the forefront.
“Have you made a decision?” Alex asked.
“I promised I wouldn’t make a decision without you.”
“Were you being polite? Or do you mean it?”
He turned his head, considering her. “I mean it,” he said. “If you tell me no, I won’t go.”
She looked to the flames as if for an answer. “I’m conflicted. I’m sure you are as well.”
He nodded. “Very.”
“We have two children to think of, Charlie.”
“I know.”
“Your responsibility is to them.”
“And to you. My first responsibility is to you and to the children. I realize that, more now than ever before.”
“At the same time, if it wasn’t for Paulina . . . you wouldn’t be here right now.”
He reached over and held her gloved hand. “I’ve had similar thoughts,” he said. “I know Paulina would tell me not to come for her. In Russia she told me she was prepared to die for her brother. I doubt that has changed. I’ve also considered what you said, about what type of condition she’ll even be in, if it’s even her, whether she’s even mentally capable of understanding who I am, or is physically capable of getting out.”
“They wouldn’t have kept her alive if she wasn’t mentally capable.”
It was a good point.
“What did Lemore say? Does Paulina even know the identities of the remaining four sisters? I assume that is the agency’s primary concern.”