Will glanced at Mousavi, who nodded and said, “Make mine well done.”
“And mine rare.” Will hated rare steaks but thought that’s how Thomas would like them. He opened the wine list, winked at the DA, and said while pointing at the list, “We’ll have this bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape.”
When the waitress left, Mousavi asked in English, “Where did you learn Russian?”
“Household Cavalry. They put me on a year’s language course.” He grinned. “One year of sitting opposite a Russian stunner. She taught me a lot of stuff. More than she was supposed to…”
“My Russian teacher was nothing like that-nothing like that at all.” The DA looked serious. “Mr. Eden, your letter of introduction to me stated that you had an interesting business proposition to discuss.”
Will pointed at the DA. “ Confidentially discuss.”
Mousavi seemed affronted. “I’m here in an official capacity.”
“I know.” Will leaned forward and lowered his voice a little. “But a man in my position has to be careful talking to someone from your country.”
“And what is your… position?”
Will leaned back and rubbed his hands together. “I do a lot of the normal stuff-procurement and sales to clients all over the world. It pays the bills.” He lost his smile. “But what I’m really good at, what I’m known for, is the classy high-end stuff.”
The waitress brought their bottle to the table and poured two glasses of wine. Will looked at her, his smile back on. “Chanel No. 19
…” He shook his head. “No. Chanel No. 19 Poudre. Am I right?”
The waitress nodded. “My boyfriend bought it for me. I couldn’t afford it on my salary.”
Will laughed. “Boyfriend? Too bad-for me.”
She smiled. “Not your lucky night.”
As she left, Will stared at her bottom, sighed, then looked sharply at Mousavi. “Blueprints of prototypes. The classy stuff. That’s what I deliver to discerning clients.”
“And you think the Iranian government might be interested in what you have to offer?”
Will shrugged. “I’m here to find out.” He lifted his glass and held it in midair over the table.
Mousavi stared at his own glass, then picked it up and chinked it against Will’s. “And I’m listening.”
Will took a sip of his wine and nodded approvingly. “This is a good drop.”
The DA drank. “I agree, though it’s a shame the restaurant doesn’t stock any ninety-eight.”
Will smiled. “I knew you’d know your wines.”
Mousavi placed his glass down. “What do you have?”
Will hesitated. “A new weapons system is being tested. It can easily be carried by one man and has a devastating effect.” He lowered his voice. “An ideal weapon for Iranian special forces.”
Mousavi seemed deep in thought. “Bombs?”
“Yes, but I can’t go into detail yet until I know where this conversation’s going.”
The DA frowned. “You have a legitimate supplier of the blueprints for these weapons?”
This was the moment Will had been leading up to.
“Legitimate suppliers are rarely of use to me. I’ve got a contact in the Russian army, a colonel. He’s involved with these weapons and has access to the blueprints. I’ve paid him a lot of money to copy the documents so that I can put them on the market. I’m giving you first refusal.”
Mousavi stood quickly, anger on his face. “You have been deeply mistaken, Mr. Eden. I will have no involvement in illegal procurement.”
“Mr. Mousavi-”
“No. This meeting is over!”
Mousavi stormed out of the restaurant just as the pretty waitress brought their steaks to the table. She looked concerned. “Is everything all right?”
Will tried to look disappointed, even though Mousavi had just said and done exactly what he’d hoped. “Tonight clearly is not my night.”
She placed the plates down, glanced quickly around, and whispered, “I finish at eleven.”
Will looked at her and wondered what it would feel like to meet her for a late drink. But he’d have to maintain the arrogant and lecherous personality of Thomas Eden in case the SBU detail was still on him. He couldn’t do that to the woman, nor could he do that to himself. His smile masked an inner sadness. “That would have been lovely, but I’ve got work to do.”
T he following day, Will walked through the arrivals section of Saint Petersburg’s Pulkovo Airport. He’d entered Russia using his multientry passport in the name of John Lawrence. Sentinel had flown into the country earlier that morning, and Will was going to meet him.
He turned on his cell phone. A message bleeped; he recognized the number belonging to one of Patrick’s many cover phones.
They sent it over. No mention of the man or the items.
Will smiled. Langley had received the SBU transcript with no reference to the “colonel” or the bombs. The only reason they would have omitted those details was if they thought they’d gain further favor with the SVR by sending the information to the Russians so that the matter could be investigated by the FSB. His operation had begun. By carefully drip feeding snippets of information to the Russians, his hope was that Taras Khmelnytsky would be discredited and sacked from the military.
As he continued walking toward the exit, his smile faded. Two days ago, Sentinel had deposited his message in the Minsk DLB. Tonight they would be meeting Shashka. And if everything went according to plan, they would also be meeting Razin.
Chapter Sixteen
It was dusk as Will drove along a deserted, unlit road twenty miles outside Saint Petersburg. The road was straight as far as the eye could see and surrounded by woodland. Everywhere was icy, but the land was bare of snow.
Sentinel checked his watch before glancing at Will. “We’re on time.” He looked ahead. “Drive for another quarter mile, then get our vehicle off the road.”
Will drove forward for ten seconds, brought the rental car to a halt, and reversed it over rough ground between trees. When he was satisfied that they were hidden from any cars that might drive by on the road, he stopped the vehicle and turned off its headlights.
Sentinel rubbed his hands together. “I’ll wait here for her. I suggest you move up the road.”
Will nodded and exited the vehicle. After having been in the heated car for nearly two hours, the sudden cold hit him hard. He jogged through the woods, keeping the road to his right, his breath steaming in the air. After five hundred feet, he moved closer to the road and crouched down beside a large tree, looking back down the road toward Sentinel’s approximate location. He stayed like that for twenty minutes before he heard a vehicle. The road before him lit up; then a sedan drove by and stopped midway between Will’s position and Sentinel’s location. Nothing happened for a minute. Then a woman got out of the car.
Sentinel emerged on foot onto the road and called out, “7962.”
The woman responded, “5389.”
Sentinel walked quickly toward her and waved a hand to tell Will that the meeting was safe. Will approached the car with caution. Sentinel motioned to the woman. “This is Rebecca. She works out of Moscow.”
Rebecca was petite, looked quite young, and was very nervous. Shaking Will’s hand, the MI6 officer said, “This is the first time I’ve done this kind of thing outside of training.”
Sentinel ignored her, and walked to the rear of her vehicle. Slapping a hand on the trunk, he asked, “In here?”
Rebecca nodded while looking around. She was clearly desperate to get away from this place. “It’s open.”
Sentinel withdrew a small cloth bag and walked back to them. The bag contained the handguns and communications system he’d requested. He gave Will a Sig Sauer P226 and two spare clips and secreted his own
