revolted almost a hundred years earlier. As much as he was revolted by its opulence, he loved it.
“This way, General.” Surkov led the general towards his private study.
The study was in keeping with the rest of the estate, grand, opulent but utterly captivating and Borodin immediately saw himself working happily behind the old oak desk that sat opposite a massive roaring fireplace. Two huge Chesterfields sat beckoning in front of the fire and with a wave of the hand, it was as though Surkov had read Borodin’s mind and guided him towards the sofas.
“General, please.” He waved towards the seat nearest the fire which the General readily accepted.
After pouring tea for them both which was topped up with vodka and a nod of acceptance by Borodin, Surkov sat down.
“So General, tell me what you know.”
Borodin looked at Surkov. His contempt for the man was becoming harder to contain. He was there to find out what Surkov knew. Not tell Surkov what he knew. However, Borodin was a man who was used to knowing everything. The thought that he was unaware of the bigger picture frustrated him even more.
He would play along with Surkov until he discovered what was going on.
Borodin smiled, the smile he reserved especially for politicians and foreign dignitaries that he had the displeasure of meeting. Warm and open, he had spent many years perfecting it, ensuring that it reached into his eyes and hid the darkness that lurked behind.
“I believed, until now, that Grebnevo…”
“No, what do you know about why you are here?” interrupted Surkov, struggling to hide his irritation.
Borodin squeezed the arm of the sofa. His temper was legendary as was his inability to control it. He smiled again, struggling to radiate warmth across his face. The resultant smile was more of a grimace.
“I received a call from an agent we had placed in America over thirty years ago. A deep sleeper. He was only to contact us if activated or if he believed his information was critical to Russia. To be honest, I had forgotten he even existed but he continued to receive data from us. He is a senior manager within the immigration department and was made aware of an alert that Sean Fox had entered America.”
“He was aware of our interest in this name and as such, knowing that he was probably the only Russian agent party to this information, made the calls to his handlers.”
“Calls?” queried Surkov with some confusion.
“When he was inserted, it was a joint GRU/KGB operation. He had two handlers myself and the Director of the Science division at KGB.”
“Surely two handlers doubled the chance of interception?”
“We had had a number of high profile embarrassments. The Americans had been playing GRU and KGB off against one another. The two contacts would ensure the same Intel was relayed to both agencies directly from the agent, without any political interference.”
Surkov nodded, he understood the political interference referred to in-fighting between the two agencies for control. In principle, the idea was sound.
“Of course, it was a disaster. You were right. The number of agents arrested increased dramatically and shortly after, the trial was abandoned. To be honest, this agent is probably the only one who still operates under joint control. He is of course unaware of any changes to operational procedure. This would never be sent in an update in case of interception. He is simply aware of areas of interest to us.”
Surkov shook his head in amazement. Thirty years on, this man gained information and followed the protocols learned a generation earlier and fulfilled his promise to his motherland. He was without a doubt a true hero to his country.
“So who received the other call?”
“The Director of Science Department at SVR.”
“Mikhail Beryutov?” asked Surkov, very aware of the name.
Borodin nodded.
Surkov nodded knowingly. There was no need to discuss the fact that he was no longer an issue.
“And?”
“I dispatched two agents as a matter of urgency, the closest were SVR. So, using Beryutov as cover, I ordered them to Fox’s last known location to deal with any loose ends.”
Again Surkov nodded. He understood the reference to loose ends. There was no need for Borodin to explicitly say the killing of the widow and child.
Surkov waited for Borodin to restart but he remained silent. As far as Borodin was concerned, Surkov appeared to know everything he was telling him and he was simply going over old ground.
“Continue,” commanded Surkov with an almost regal wave of his hand.
Borodin almost tore the arm off of the sofa as he fought to stop himself from ripping the old man’s throat out. He grimaced before continuing. His ability to smile had all but left his body.
“Our agents went in but as they were about to carry out their orders, Sean Fox appeared and as far as they were concerned, their orders no longer stood.”
“Why exactly?” criticized Surkov acidly.
“If Sean Fox was alive, how could they kill his widow?”
Surkov smiled wryly at the rationality of the agents’ actions.
“They have been dealt with!” explained Borodin dryly, removing Surkov’s smile.
“And what of Sean Fox?”
“He is of no concern. I have a team arriving in the next couple of hours,” replied Borodin with some conviction. He was beginning to exert his authority on the situation. He had had enough of the games and wanted some answers himself.
“Now tell me why he is of such interest?”
“He is not of any interest,” replied Surkov simply.
Borodin sat bolt upright. “Sorry?”
“I am not the least bit interested in Sean Fox.”
“But you issued the original request to have him killed if he surfaced, some five years ago?”
“Yes but he is not of interest!”
“So what is he?” asked Borodin, following on from Surkov’s hint in emphasizing interest.
“The single biggest risk to our country since the end of Communism.”
Chapter 31
Luis shook his head. These Americans always talked in riddles. They could never just say what they meant. The woman was curled in a ball crying her eyes out while the American sat hopelessly looking at her with large sad eyes. He picked up his Desert Eagle and turned his attention to the TV. The pictures of the armored personnel carriers on the bridge had just started beaming live as he joined the coverage.
As the graphic image of the Colonel’s head exploding on live TV hit the screen, he preyed to God that his uncle was not the gunman and it was some rogue imbecile that had killed the American officer. However, he knew deep in his heart that his prayers would not be answered favorably. It was exactly the type of insane stunt his uncle would pull.
“Oh fuck!” exclaimed Sean as he witnessed the killing.
Katie looked up and caught the body hitting the ground. All she cared about in the world was her son and the pictures on the screen were not of a young boy. She turned and buried her head further into the sofa, wishing everybody would leave and her son and Sean were back home and everything was back to normal. Something she knew life would never happen.
Sean stole a look at Katie, he wanted to help her, needed to help her. But he knew the last thing she wanted at that time was help from a man whom she had thought was her husband miraculously arisen from the grave.
He looked at Luis and from the look on his face, he knew things had just got even worse. “Your uncle?”
Luis didn’t even think before nodding. “Probably!” his eyes glued to the continuing coverage of the soldiers being killed.
