Theresa turns away but not before Lyndsey sees her press her mouth into a firm line. “Not after what I’ve been through.”
—
They walk back to the office without speaking much. Lyndsey’s not sure what to say. Their conversation in the cafeteria seems to have ended on an awkward note. At one point, Theresa apologizes for dominating the conversation, though Lyndsey is happy not to dodge questions about herself. She’s not ready to open up yet.
But a few steps before the door to the office, Theresa finally breaks the silence. “Strange, isn’t it, what happened yesterday?” She can only be talking about Popov. A flash cable had gone around, announcing his death. “Had you heard of him?”
“Heard of him, yes.” While word of the investigation will come out sooner or later, for now Lyndsey is sure she should play it cool. To honor the compartment that protects the knowledge that Popov was a double agent.
“He must’ve been one of ours: the Division wouldn’t go on alert like that for just any Russian official.”
True enough. Still, Lyndsey is careful not to confirm or deny.
“You said you were conducting an investigation. It’s got to be about this death, isn’t it?”
Now Lyndsey feels doubly wrong for letting it slip out yesterday. “I’m not free to say.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to pry.” Theresa smiles apologetically. “Still . . . you’re getting settled in. It’s all got to be disorienting, topsy-turvy. Let me know if I can do anything to help.” And they slip back into the office, parting silently, Lyndsey feeling slightly better about her return. The prodigal daughter.
SEVEN
Back in her tiny office, Lyndsey closes the door. It’s time to put aside interruptions and get started with this investigation.
There had been an email earlier from Raymond Murphy. He’d started looking into Moscow Station for bad apples and hinted that he’d found a possible suspect. It wouldn’t be the Station Chief Hank Bremer, Lyndsey could anticipate that much. She hadn’t worked with him—Hank had come in as she’d been leaving—but he had a reputation for being rule-bound and old-school, and it is hard to picture a guy like that selling out to the enemy.
Raymond had only hinted at the cards in his hand, but it sounds like one of the case officers. Someone who was known to be having money problems and had been caught fudging about the situation in paperwork. Raymond wants to poke around a bit more before sharing a name with her, so that’s all she has for now. Enough to know that Moscow Station couldn’t be ruled out at this point.
It’s time to get started on the tasks Raymond outlined. The first step is to get the access records for Popov, Nesterov, and Kulakov. The information that an asset provides to the Agency might be widely reported, but those reports wouldn’t reveal the true identity of the source. To get on the access list, you would’ve had to prove a need to know the asset’s true identity—usually in order to validate the truthfulness or usefulness of the information. That access list would include policymakers, which means there’s a chance, albeit a slim one, that a U.S. diplomatic or military attaché could’ve accidentally let slip a true name during a negotiation or meeting. There are other ways the Russians might’ve found out, too, but it’s highly unlikely they would’ve found three assets on their own. And for Popov, a consummate professional, to trip himself up? It seems almost impossible. The most likely reason, far more likely than any other, is that someone on the access lists told the Russians.
She also needs to read all the reports issued by Popov’s new handler Tom Cassidy, the CIA officer who took over when Lyndsey left Moscow. It will be the first time she’s able to see them, since her access was taken away when she left Moscow Station, a standard security procedure. She no longer had need-to-know.
Her first move is to call Russia Division’s chief security officer. “I need to know who’s on the access list for Genghis, Skipjack, and Lighthouse.” The code names for Popov, Nesterov, and Kulakov. “And I need it asap.”
The security officer hems. “It’s going to take some time. I can’t promise that I’ll get back to you today.”
With this investigation her only responsibility, Lyndsey has time in abundance. “Let me into the files and I’ll go through the records myself and connect the dots.”
Ten minutes later, she’s got entry into the records she needs. She starts going through the access lists, beginning with Kulakov. The number of people who would need to know the true identity of a scientist would be small. Senior managers wouldn’t bother to be read in. The information that Kulakov provided might’ve been widely disseminated in classified reports, but most readers wouldn’t need to know the true name of the person who provided that information in order to understand it.
More people would be given access to Nesterov’s true identity because of the subject: every agency in the federal government seems to be working Russian cyber operations right now. Still, the list for Nesterov is shockingly long. Lyndsey makes a mental note to raise this with Eric. It seems an unnecessary risk.
She goes back and sifts through the list of names under Kulakov’s file, only about thirty. Then, she checks each one against Nesterov’s list, which numbers almost two hundred. After eliminating some false matches—common names that turn out to be different people—Lyndsey arrives at the conclusion she was afraid of: no single person appears on both Nesterov’s and Kulakov’s access lists. Which means, aside from a handful of senior managers who get included pro forma, no one person would know of both men’s true identities.
Whoever gave these names to the FSB—Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation—got them through other means.
Next, Lyndsey compares both Kulakov’s and Nesterov’s access lists with the
