Agent X (20 page)

He laughed. “Nothing at all. But I suspect you know that if we both stay here in this stalemate, the police will eventually find us, and I’ll lose. Or maybe we all will. So I guess I’ll just have to take a chance your marksmanship isn’t that good.”

Vail said, “You’re ten feet away, and I have a couple of full magazines. Do you really think anyone’s that bad a shot? Maybe I’m the one who should take a chance that those charges won’t go off.”

Sakis smiled. “They’re triple-primed. They’ll go off.”

Vail laughed and then in a theatrical voice said, “What we have here is a failure to compromise.” The man looked at him uncomprehendingly. “
Cool Hand Lukesky
?” Still there was no indication of understanding from Sakis. “I guess they don’t allow American prison movies in Moscow. Even the southern road gang is better than the gulags.”

Finally Sakis smiled as if he knew something Vail didn’t. “Exactly what compromise did you have in mind?”

“I’ll back up five feet from the gate. Then you come up to it and set down the detonator at one side. With me that far back, it would be too difficult a shot to risk hitting you through the bars. You stand at the other side as far as possible from the detonator, take the key to the gate, and throw it as far down my part of the tunnel as you can. By the time I retrieve it and come back to the bulkhead, you’ll have enough time to make it to the next turn and out of range. Once I get the key and can open that lock, you’ll be gone and I’ll be five minutes behind you. Then there’ll be no reason to set off the explosives.”

Sakis considered the proposal. Evidently this FBI agent had forgotten the gun he had shot the guard with. It was now tucked behind his back. “You have to lower your gun.”

“Okay,” Vail said, dropping his arm to his side. Then he stepped back the agreed-upon distance, never taking his eyes from Sakis’s.

Sakis figured that once he threw the key behind Vail, the agent would have to turn his flashlight away from the gate and in the other direction down the tunnel. If he did glance back momentarily, he would be watching the box, making sure Sakis was not moving toward it. As soon as he fully turned to search for the key, his own light would silhouette him, and Sakis would shoot him in the back. Then he could trip the detonation timer before making his escape.

Sakis took the detonator and set it down along the wall about a foot from the gate, so Vail couldn’t reach through and disarm it. He then moved to the opposite wall, dug a key out of his pocket, and held it up so Vail could see that it was a padlock key. “Okay?”

“Toss it.”

Sakis threw the key as far as he could, at least ten feet past the agent, who was now casually leaning against the wall. Vail gave him one last careful glance. Then he swung his flashlight around, and its beam glinted off the key on the concrete floor ahead. Vail turned the light back onto Sakis and the detonation box. “I’ve got a feeling it won’t be too long before we meet again.” He turned and started toward the key.

Sakis reached behind his back and carefully drew his gun. As he raised it, Vail dropped into a crouch, pivoted, and fired. The bullet tore into Sakis’s throat.

Vail hadn’t forgotten about the gun. He knew that Sakis would use it if Vail created a scenario in which Sakis could shoot him in the back. The ploy was the only way he could separate him from the detonation box. Vail had hoped to shoot up through his throat and sever his brain stem, not only instantly killing him but also paralyzing him so the switch could not be thrown. The odds of making the shot were astronomical, but he had no other choice. The bullet had missed by almost two inches.

Although fatally wounded, Sakis was not paralyzed. He sank to his knees and fell forward, reaching for the box. Vail started to squeeze off another round but realized that it was too late when he saw Sakis’s index finger trip the switch.

He ran up to the gate as Sakis rolled off the box, his eyes vacant with death. In the darkness Vail could see the red LED display. It read 2:58 . . . 2:57 . . .

Vail ran back and retrieved the key. At the gate again, the lock was on Sakis’s side and the chain was thick and difficult to maneuver. The bars on the sides of the gate were narrower than the gate itself. Vail’s hand barely fit through. With his right he grabbed the chain on his side and manipulated it to bring the lock closer to his left hand. 2:43 . . . 2:42 . . .

Carefully, he tried to place the key in the keyhole, but the lock was large and had a spring-loaded metal cover to protect it from debris and weather. He pushed the cover back with the key and just about had it seated when it slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. 2:07 . . . 2:06 . . .

Dropping down to his knees, he shoved his hand through the bottom of the bars, but it was well out of reach. 1:59 . . . 1:58 . . .

Vail stripped off his belt, then his shirt and T-shirt. There was a small puddle of water under the gate; he soaked his T-shirt and then tightened his belt around it. 1:42 . . . 1:41 . . .

Threading them through the bars, Vail threw his shirt at the key, holding on to the end of the belt. His first cast landed on the key. Slowly, he drew it back to him, the weight of the water keeping the key under the shirt as it was pulled toward him. 1:30 . . . 1:29 . . . 1:28 . . .

Finally he was able to grab it with his fingertips. He delicately inserted it in the lock—this time it seated fully. He tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t move. Vail then realized that Sakis had thrown him the wrong key, maybe one for a gate ahead.

Vail’s laughter bellowed down the tunnel. “If I had a hat, I’d tip it to you for making that switch.” He glanced at the timer: 1:14 . . . 1:13 . . .

The closest part of Sakis’s body was his foot. Vail reached through the bars and could get just two fingers on his trouser cuff. He pulled it to the bulkhead. Working his way up Sakis’s leg, he eventually had the entire body against the gate. He pulled part of the other man’s suit coat through the bars and patted the pockets, hoping there was another key. He couldn’t feel anything through the cloth. 1:01 . . . 1:00 . . . 0:59 . . .

He grabbed at Sakis’s left trouser pockets, front and back, pulling them close enough to pat them. Still nothing. 0:47 . . . 0:46 . . .

Using only his fingertips, Vail grabbed Sakis’s belt and pulled it toward him to roll the body partially over. Finally he was able to feel the right front trouser pocket. There was a set of keys in it. But he couldn’t roll the body over any further, because it was against the bars, and the pocket, although he could grasp its opening edge, was facing away from him. He took out his lockback knife and slit the material open, exposing a key ring.

From behind him Vail could hear voices and footsteps. The cops. And it sounded like there were a half dozen or more of them. He looked at the timer: 0:31 . . .

Vail took the ring and was relieved to see a key similar to the one Sakis had decoyed him with. He stood up and, holding on to it with both hands, worked it into the lock. It turned. He pushed the gate open. 0:24 . . . Vail ordered himself to stop looking at the timer.

The device appeared to be basic. Timer, power supply, electrical blasting caps wired to the three shaped charges attached to the concrete ceiling. Vail wondered if the timer had been booby-trapped, but then he reasoned that he was never supposed to get to it. So he took the first blasting-cap wire, doubled it over, and stuck his knife’s blade into the loop and pulled. The wire severed cleanly. Quickly, he did the same to the other two. The first cop’s flashlight finally came into view. Vail looked at the timer and watched as it counted down from 0:11. “Plenty of time,” he said out loud. He watched as the readout continued, which it would even if the bomb was defused. When it was about to go to 0:00, he closed one eye, squinting at it. The display went black.

“Let me see your hands,” the first police officer said.

Vail raised them and then heard Les Carson say, “That’s all right, he’s the agent.”

Vail stepped back through the gate, partially closing it. “Sorry, guys, there’s explosives in there. I think they’re defused, but you’d better get someone down here who knows what he’s doing.”

A sergeant walked forward and peered through the gate. “That the shooter?”

“It was.”

“Why was he trying to blow a hole in the ceiling? To escape?”

“We’re under the Chicago River. Actually, he was trying to kill the rest of us,” Vail said.

Les Carson came forward and looked at the body. “Yeah, that’s Sakis. At least that’s the name he gave us.”

Vail straddled the body. Remembering the fake passports and escape plans that Petriv had been supplied with, he started going through Sakis’s pockets. There was no wallet, but in the suit coat Vail found a grainy photograph. Recognizing the background, he realized that it had been taken in Washington. But it still surprised him.

It was a photo of himself.

20

John Kalix watched Vail come through the gate after the flight back from Chicago. He searched his face for any indication that he had just killed another man, but he couldn’t see any. “How you doing, Steve?”

“Good. Any word from Ident on Sakis’s prints?”

“There’s no record. And that security director at the bank, Carson, forwarded his résumé. He started checking it and said so far the work history appears completely phony.”

“He was a lot more educated than a bookkeeper should be,” Vail said. “When we were nose to nose, he started discussing game theory with me. It’s scary to think the Russians plant one of their people in a Chicago bank for that length of time just to handle wire-transferred funds. Makes you wonder how many more there are out there.”

“Maybe the Russians didn’t plant him there only for the Calculus scam. Maybe they were washing money through the bank, or something else. I’ll open a case on it and have Chicago check it out. Some Russian operations have been around for twenty years. There’s probably some that have been in place since the thirties, and we just haven’t uncovered them yet. They’re not like us—they’re got that long-haul mentality.”

“Maybe you should let them know the Cold War is over.”

“It’s all about technology now. They want to steal as much of it as possible. It converts directly into their country’s economy.”

“Did you get the court order for the bank here? What’s the name of it?”

Kalix tapped the breast pocket of his suit coat. “Right here. Northern Virginia Trust in Annandale. When do you want to go out there?”

“Kate’s still in custody—what do you think?” Vail increased his stride, and Kalix hurried to keep up.

Once they were in the car, Kalix said, “After your not-so-low-profile shooting, I had no choice but to tell the assistant director that you’d been reinstated.”

Vail laughed. “Sorry I missed that.”

“I wish I had. If I hadn’t implied that it was the director’s idea, I’d be working the Migratory Bird Act in the Bronx right now.”

“Why don’t you just give me the court order? I can take it from here if you want to go repair some bridges.”

“I think I’ll hang in there a little longer.”

“I’d almost admire your courage if the director weren’t your ace in the hole.”

Kalix smiled. “Actually, he’s more like a royal flush in the hole, so I’m with you—unless, of course, he becomes disenchanted with you. Then I’ll be calling for your head,” he said. “I assume this bank account will also turn out to be a phony?”

“I’d be surprised if it were legit, but it’s our best shot right now.”

As they walked through the bank lobby, Vail started scanning the faces of the employees, wondering if one of them was another plant by the Russians, put there to move money. Kalix led the way to the manager’s office and flashed his credentials, introducing himself and Vail. Once he did, he handed the bank officer the court order and pointed out that it instructed him to provide the mentioned records and that any disclosure regarding the FBI’s visit would be a violation of federal law.

“Sure, I understand.” After reading the document, the manager started typing at his desktop computer. He took a pen and wrote down a woman’s name, her phone number, and an address in Alexandria. “This is all the info we have on the account holder. There was a transfer of five hundred thousand dollars to it yesterday, but that was canceled first thing this morning. The balance is zero.” He slid it across to Kalix, who glanced at it and handed it to Vail. The manager went back to the court order. “What are these three other dates you’re requesting?”

Vail said, “They are additional transfers made from the same Chicago account. We’re not sure whether they came to your bank, but if you could check, we’d appreciate it. They were each a quarter of a million dollars.”

After a few more minutes on the computer, the manager said, “They weren’t sent here.”

Vail said, “Again, if someone asks, it’s best that we were never here.”

“I understand,” the banker said.

As they left, Vail said, “I’ll drive,” and got behind the wheel.

“I assume we’re going to Alexandria.”

Vail glanced over at him, indicating that an answer wasn’t necessary. “Can you get that name checked?” Kalix pulled the radio mike from its mounting, and Vail put his hand on top of it. “I don’t think you want that name going across the air, even if the channel is scrambled.”

“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.” Kalix dialed his cell phone and after giving some instructions waited a couple of minutes before saying “Thank you” and hanging up. “Nothing on the name, but according to the utility check the address is good.”

“Let’s go take a look at it.” Vail glanced at him as if trying to decide something about him. “Are you carrying a gun?”

Kalix blushed a little. “For the first time in years.”

“Really? Why now?”

“I guess for the same reason I’m helping you instead of fully protecting my flank.”

“Which is?”

“Do you remember when you got your appointment to new agents’ training, what an adventure this all was going to be? How daily life was going to go from ordinary to fantastic? That’s what I thought. Then I got to the field. The first two years in WFO were spent working wiretaps. I had no choice but to go into management to get out from under the earmuffs. In seventeen years with the Bureau, I haven’t had one of the days I signed up for.” He looked at Vail to see if what he was saying was registering. “This may be my only chance to be something other than the man in the gray paper suit.”

Vail laughed. “It sounds like you’re ready to do something stupid.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Do you really think I’m the person to ask?”

For the next twenty minutes, neither of them said anything. Finally Vail pulled over and motioned to a house in the distance. “That’s it there.”

Kalix sat up. “It doesn’t look like much.”

“One of the little lessons I’ve learned during my stay in Washington is that the Russians prefer their ambushes to be isolated.”

“You think this is a trap?”

“A trap or a dead end. Unfortunately, a dead end isn’t going to help us.” Vail opened his cell phone and dialed the number that the bank manager had given them. He held it away from his ear so Kalix could hear. After three rings a woman with a heavy Eastern European accent answered. “ ’Allo.”

“Is Clarence there?” Vail asked.

“No one that name here,” she said, and hung up.

Vail put the car in gear. “So far so good.”

“What’s good? You’re not going to the house, are you?”

“I thought you wanted to do something stupid.”

“Shouldn’t you get some help?”

Vail smiled at him. “I’ve got some. When I go to the front door, you take the back.” Kalix had his hand on his automatic, unsure whether he should draw it or not. “It’s okay, John. Haul ’er out.”

Kalix gave him an embarrassed smile and eased the automatic from its holster.

They pulled up in the driveway, and as both men got out, Kalix hurried to the back of the house. Vail walked up the three stairs onto the front porch and knocked hard on the door’s window. He didn’t wait for an answer, knocking again even more loudly. After a third time, there still was no answer. He yelled back to Kalix, “I’m going in!”

The house was a small one-story structure, and Vail could tell by the exterior construction that there was no basement. The door wasn’t locked, so he pushed it open, drawing his own automatic.

Someone had tried to rehab the drab interior cheaply. The floors were unfinished plywood, and the walls were mostly unmatched paneling. Like most houses that old, it was a basic rectangle with low, seven-foot ceilings, which were clogged with spiderwebs. To the right, through a doorway, Vail could see into the kitchen. There were two partially eaten carry-out meals on the table, which was a card table flanked by two folding chairs. Two beer bottles sat next to two empty glasses. At the bottom of one of the glasses, Vail could see small bubbles hugging the inside, indicating that whoever had been drinking beer had been gone no more than a few minutes. Since Vail and Kalix had been sitting outside that long, it meant that at least one person was still in the house. Not able to remember how to say “good afternoon” in Russian, Vail yelled
“Dobroie
utro!”
and then, in English, an even louder “Good morning!” There was no answer.

Vail backed out of the kitchen and into the entryway. Straight ahead was what looked like a living room, although it was difficult to say without any furniture. Carefully, he walked into the room, his face brushing against more cobwebs. He caught a glimpse of Kalix out the back window, peeking in. Vail tried the door on the right side of the room, but it was locked. He moved from in front of it and knocked.
“Dobroie utro.”

Again there was no response. The dead-bolt lock on the door looked brand new and out of place on an interior door. Across the room, directly opposite, was another door, leading to the left rear of the house. It was ajar and without any sort of visible lock on it. Cautiously Vail moved to it and pushed it open. At the top of the door, he noticed that some of the cobwebs that hung from the ceiling were matted against it, indicating that it had been closed recently. As he peeked around the jamb, he could see that the room had probably been a bedroom, with a surprisingly large closet crudely constructed in one corner.

Vail pulled his head back and leaned against the wall. Someone was in the house, and as far as he could tell, there were only two places to hide: in the locked room across from him or the closet in this bedroom. The fact that the one room had a locked door made it the more logical. The door, a hollow-core laminate, would not present any problem to kick in, but he wanted to eliminate the closet first. Once he determined that it was empty, then he could call Kalix in and they wouldn’t need to watch their backs as they went after the more likely target. With the two of them working in tandem, they could safely make entry into the locked room.

Raising his handgun to eye level, Vail went into the bedroom and moved quietly to the closet. Standing at the side, he grabbed the wooden knob on its door and pulled it open. When nothing happened, he looked in. It was empty, except for a full-length mirror that ran from the top to the bottom. What a bizarre place for a mirror, he thought.

He turned to go but then realized something that hadn’t immediately registered when he looked inside. At the top of the mirror, as on the door of the room, the ceiling cobwebs were matted against it. At the same moment, he heard a tiny metallic click that he’d heard a thousand times before. He spun around 180 degrees and fired four shots into the mirror. It exploded as the body of a man fell through it, a silver automatic dropping from his hand.

The cobwebs that were caught against the top of the mirror were in a triangular pattern, indicating that it opened on a hinge, catching them in a pattern similar to the one above the room’s door. Vail could now see the secret compartment behind it. The click he’d heard was the gun’s safety being released. As he stooped to pick up a piece of the mirror, there were a half-dozen shots fired from behind him. He dove to the side and rolled over, looking for a target.

In the doorway was a second man, slumping to the floor. Vail could see Kalix looking in through the window he’d just shot through. “Steve, you okay?” he shouted, his adrenaline apparently still pulsing.

“Yeah, come around to the front.” Vail went to the man whom Kalix had shot and verified that he was dead. Holstering his gun, he walked back to the closet and picked up a piece of the mirror, examining it.

Kalix came in at a trot. “You really are okay, right?”

“Are
you
okay?”

“I heard some shots, and when I looked in the window, I saw this guy coming up behind you ready to fire, so I opened up. He is a bad guy, isn’t he?”

Vail smiled. “Not anymore.” He held up the mirror fragment. “Two-way glass. I should have realized that the closet was deeper, but the mirror was meant to distort its depth.”

“Any idea who they are?”

“I would imagine they’re guys who get their paychecks in rubles.” Vail looked up at Kalix, who continued to stare at the man he’d just killed. “You want to go wait in the car? I’ll take care of searching these two.”

“No, no, I’m all right,” Kalix said. “Should I have yelled for him to surrender or something first?”

“This isn’t exactly a surrendering bunch. If you had yelled, I’d be dead.” Vail rolled over the body of the man he’d shot and started going through his pockets.

“They were here to ambush us?” Kalix said.

“They were probably here to ambush me. But now that you’ve killed one of them, maybe they’ll give you equal consideration next time. With Kate in custody, they probably figured I’d be alone.”

“Why you?”

“Apparently they’re finding me to be a bit of a nuisance. Sakis had a photo of me in Chicago.”

Kalix studied Vail’s face, looking for fear. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Never look a gift horse in the mouth.”