“Got him,” Alex announced with a triumphant fist pump.
“Who is he?”
“Nikolay Minsky, a Russian geologist who consults with several U.S.-based oil companies.”
Hawk’s mouth fell agape. “Living in Washington?”
“Apparently. He’s got a work visa from one of the companies he works with, so he’s legitimate.”
“He must know something about oil to be able to worm his way over here, but he also works for the FSB.”
Alex smiled. “Why don’t you go find out more?”
She walked over to a printer in the corner of the room and waited patiently as the machine whirred before spitting out several pages. She collected them and stuffed them into a manila folder.
Hawk took the file and marched back into the interrogation room. “Nikolay Minsky,” he said as he entered the room. “You’re going to wish you’d never set foot in this country after I’m finished with you.”
Minsky scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve done nothing wrong. Tell me why you’ve dragged me here to this—this place. Tell me why my hands are bound to this table. Tell me why you’ve decided to arrest me for no reason.”
Hawk smiled and paced around Minsky. “I’ll be happy to tell you all that, but only after you tell me why you murdered Thaxton Thurman.”
“Who?” Minsky asked.
“Thaxton Thurman, you know, Senator Lon Thurman’s son.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Minsky said. “I don’t follow your American politics and have tried to keep out them for many years.”
“Don’t be coy with me. You know good and well who Thaxton Thurman is as well as why you killed him.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Minsky said.
Hawk settled into the chair across from his captive. “This isn’t a trial, though I will be serving as the sentencing judge once we work through all these questions. The more cooperative you are, the more lenient I will be. Is that understood?”
Minsky nodded. “I still didn’t kill anyone.”
“Lying will earn you a fate worse than Siberia,” Hawk said. “I suggest you start telling me the truth so we can all feel better about how this interview is about to go.”
“Interview?” Minsky said with a laugh. He pulled up on his chains to no avail. “You call this an interview?”
“Call it whatever you like to make yourself feel better. The bottom line is that you’re going to tell me everything or else I’m going to make sure you have a less than pleasant stay during your little remaining time in the U.S.”
“You can’t make me talk.”
Hawk nodded. “You’re right. I can’t. But I can put the word out that you’re helping the CIA and put you back out on the street.”
“That’d be a lie. No one would believe you.”
Hawk pulled out his knife and slid the blade along the edge of the desk. The razor edge left a mark on the table. “Are you willing to take that chance?”
Minsky said nothing as he stared straight ahead.
“Suits me just fine if you sit there and keep your mouth shut,” Hawk said. “All I’ll do is cut you loose and shove you out onto the street. I’ll bet someone else we want will show up for you. We call it killing two birds with one stone, but I’m sure you’ve heard of that concept before.”
Minsky remained stoic.
“You sure you don’t want to tell me how you’re contacted?”
Defiant as ever, Minsky didn’t flinch.
Hawk’s phone buzzed.
“I’ll let you think about that for a moment while I handle this,” Hawk said, glancing at the cell in his hand.
He eased into the hallway and met Alex.
“I hope you’ve got something, because this guy isn’t budging,” Hawk said. “Threatening to expose him clearly isn’t working.”
“At this point, let’s take a flyer on this,” she said, handing him a file folder.
“What’s this?” Hawk asked as he opened it.
“Pictures of dead Russian assassins,” she said. “Someone has taken out two of them in recent weeks. Tell Minsky that we’re more interested in the motivation behind the person doing all this and that we can protect him.”
“It’s worth a shot. Thanks.”
Hawk took the folder and re-entered the interrogation room. Minsky was staring down at his hands.
“What trick will you try this time to get me to talk?” he asked.
Hawk grunted. “I know you are well aware of how the game is played, but let’s consider for a moment that the rules have changed.”
“What kind of rules?”
“The kind of rules where the assassins are the ones being hunted.”
“I don’t understand.”
Hawk opened the folder and slid a few pictures across the table to Minsky. “Maybe this will help.”
Minsky’s eyes widened as he looked at the photos.
“Dead Russian assassins,” Hawk said. “People just like you. Someone is systematically taking out these men. Now, it’s not any U.S. government organization that we know of, but someone is eliminating your fellow comrades. I can keep you safe, but you need to talk.”
“You are going to protect me?”
Hawk nodded. “It’s very simple. You tell me how you are contacted and by whom, and I’ll protect you from whoever is murdering all your fellow assassins.”
“Okay,” Minsky said with a sigh. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, but it won’t be much. Everyone is very much insulated in this process.”
“Plausible deniability?”
“I don’t know what you Americans call it, but the less we know, the better.”
“So, how are you contacted?”
“Every Monday I go for a run in the morning. There is a payphone along my route. I pass by at precisely 5:00 a.m. If it rings just once, then I know there’s a job for me. If it rings multiple times, I know there’s no job.”
“And if there’s a job, what do you do then?”
“I visit a dead drop site and collect the details of my assignment.”
Hawk nodded. “So, who’s calling the shots? One of your so-called ambassadors? An FSB agent posing as some low-level diplomat?”
Minsky laughed. “I don’t even know what his voice sounds like. I warned you that there wouldn’t be much I could give
