He nodded, then said to me, of course, 'I'm surprised you are alive.'
'You're lucky I'm alive. Look, I know we're both on his must-kill list, so we need to talk.'
Boris nodded, then said, 'And perhaps your friend Kate is also in danger.'
'Perhaps. But to give you more information than you need to know, she is now in a location that is more secure than yours. We did this,' I lied, 'to reduce the number of potential targets.' I gave him the happy news. 'So I think it's just you and me left.'
He took that well and joked, 'You can sleep on that couch tonight.'
I said, 'You should also stay here.'
'Perhaps.'
'Your wife will understand.'
'I assure you, she will not.' He thought a moment, then said, 'In fact, she will be going to Moscow tomorrow.'
'Not a bad idea.'
Boris poured himself a cognac and poured one for me, then said, 'I assume you have a better plan than hiding.'
'Actually, I do. My plan is to use you as bait to trap Khalil.'
He replied, 'I am not sure I like that plan.'
'Works for me.'
He forced a smile, but didn't respond.
Actually, being bait was my new job, and I had no problem with that. In fact, I wanted to be the only person in a position to kill Asad Khalil. But Boris Korsakov was also a target, and I had an obligation to tell him that, and I also needed to put my own ego and anger aside in favor of the mission. I wouldn't be thrilled if it was Boris who nailed Khalil, but the bottom line would still be Khalil in a casket.
Boris asked me, 'Do you have any actual information that he knows where I am?'
I replied, truthfully, 'We don't. But why don't we assume he does know where you are?' I added, 'He had three years to find you. Plus he has friends in America.'
Boris nodded, then smiled and informed me, 'I have actually been mentioned in some publications that write about food, or about the Russian immigrant community.'
'I hope they didn't use your photo, Boris.'
He shrugged and replied, 'A few times.' He explained his security lapse by saying, 'It is part of my business. And to be truthful, I didn't mind the publicity, and I was not thinking of personal security.'
'Apparently not.' I asked him, 'And that's your real name?'
'It is.' He further explained, 'The CIA urged me to change my name, but… it is all I have from my past.'
'Right.' And that's the name they'll use on your tombstone. Well, I guess Boris Korsakov felt safe in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, despite the fact that he'd pissed off Libyan Intelligence, Asad Khalil, and maybe his old KGB buddies. But he couldn't be feeling completely at ease about the past, so add another reason for those locks and bolts on the door.
I said, 'So let's assume that Khalil knows you are the proprietor of Svetlana, and that you have a wife and an apartment on Brighton Twelfth Street. You can run, you can hide, but you can also sit here and wait for him, and I'll have people waiting with you.'
He replied, 'Well, I will think about that. In the meantime, you and your organization should think about some other way to capture him-or kill him.'
I pointed out, 'I think you know him better than the Feds.'
He thought a moment, then said, 'He will be difficult to find. But he will find you.'
'Boris, I know that. I'm not hiding.' I reminded him, 'He's probably already found you. The question is, How do I find him?'
Boris sat back in his chair and lit another cigarette. He stared off at a point in space and spoke, almost to himself: 'The Soviet Union, for all its faults, never underestimated the Americans. If anything, we tended to overestimate you. Khalil, on the other hand, is from a culture that underestimates the West, and especially the Americans. And this perhaps is his weakness.' He thought a moment, then continued, 'He cares nothing for money, women, comfort… he has no vices, and he thinks those who do are weak and corrupt.'
He thought a moment, then continued, 'They call him The Lion because of his courage, his stealth, his speed, and his ability to sense danger. But in this last regard, he often misses the signs of danger because of his belief that he is strong-physically, mentally, and morally-and that his enemies are weak, stupid, and corrupt.' He looked at me and said, 'I warned him once about this, but I did not bother to warn him again.'
Boris was on a roll, reminiscing about his student, so I didn't respond.
Boris continued, 'Khalil had a mentor, an old man called Malik, who was somewhat of a mystic.' He informed me, 'Malik, like me, tried to teach Khalil caution, but Malik also convinced Khalil that he was blessed-that he had special powers, a sixth sense for danger, and a sense for knowing when his prey was close. Nonsense, of course, but Khalil believed it, and therefore he does stupid things, but seems to get away with his stupidity, which only reinforces his rash behavior.' He speculated, 'Perhaps his luck is running out.'
Not so you'd notice, but I said, 'Maybe.' In truth, the few murderers I've come across who thought God was in their corner had been a problem; they certainly were not blessed by God, but they thought they were, and that made them unpredictable and more dangerous than the average homicidal nut job.
Boris took a drag on his cigarette and said, 'He was an excellent learner-very quick, very intelligent. And also very motivated-but what motivated him was hate.' He looked at me and said, 'As you know, the Americans killed his entire family.'
I did not reply.
Boris said, correctly, 'Hate clouds the judgment.'
Again, I didn't respond, but I did think about this odd couple-Boris Korsakov and Asad Khalil-teacher and student from opposite ends of the universe. I was sure that Boris had done a good job training his young protege to kill and escape, but at the end of school, Asad Khalil was the same deranged person as he'd been at the beginning.
Boris continued, 'He is what you call a loner. He does not need friends, women, or even colleagues, though he will use people and then dispose of them. So, how do you find such a man? Well, as I said, you will not find him-he will find you. But when he does, he is more likely than most professional assassins to make an error-an error in judgment, and thus an error in tactics. And by this, Mr. Corey, I mean that he will pass up an opportunity to safely blow your head off at two hundred meters, and he will attack you in a most personal way-the way a lion attacks, with his teeth, and his claws. He needs to taste your blood. And like a cat playing with a mouse, he often plays with his victim and taunts him before killing him. This is important to him. So if you survive the initial assault, you may have a chance to respond.' Boris concluded, 'This is all I can tell you that may be of help.'
Well, aside from Malik the mystic, there wasn't too much there that I didn't know, and in fact Kate and I recently had some personal experience with Khalil's modus operandi. But it was good to have my own thoughts and observations confirmed. I said to Boris, 'So we should bend over and kiss our asses good-bye?'
He smiled and, being a good host, complimented me by saying, 'I feel that you can handle the situation if it should arise.' He added, of course, 'And so can I.'
Maybe I shouldn't have cancelled my gym membership. I returned to my previous suggestion. 'Another way to catch or kill a lion is to leave bait in a trap.'
He'd apparently given some thought to my suggestion and replied, 'Yes. If you want the lion alive, you put a live goat in a cage, and when the lion enters the cage, the door closes. The lion is trapped, but the goat gets eaten. Or if you want the lion dead, then the goat is tethered to a tree, and as the lion is killing him, the hunter shoots. In either case, the goat is dead. But goats are expendable.'
'Good point.' I assured him, 'But we know you're not a goat and we will ensure your safety.'
He wasn't so sure of that, and frankly, neither was I. Boris said to me, 'You try it first.'
'Okay. I'll let you know how I make out.'
'Yes, if you can.' He did say, however, 'It is an interesting idea, and it may be the only way you will capture or kill him. But be advised-John-even as you are setting a trap for him, he may be doing the same for you.'
'Right.'
To continue the lion thing, he said, 'And you would not be the first hunter to follow the lion's spoor, only to
