Henry Wood Perception (16 page)

“My old comrade, how have you been?” His Russian accent was thick, but he corrected himself and asked, “How are you doing today?” This time his English was perfect.

“I'm well. Your English is very good, but you don’t sound like a New Yorker.”

“I'll work on it.” Pytor showed him into the den and poured them drinks. “We are eager to hear of your progress.”

“We have achieved the tolerances promised, and, thus far, the defects are at an acceptable level.”

“The first batch is the most important. We must get them to the shipyard as soon as possible. Nobody knows that we will be swapping out our own parts for yours.”

“Why is that?”

“It is for security. If we can get the newest sub built without even the workers knowing about the change, then there is far less chance of the Americans getting wind of what we have done. The results of the depth tests can then be leaked with the expected results. The Americans will think they have superior capabilities.”

Matthew said, “By the time they get their subs built with the batches containing the defective parts, it will be too late. Their subs will fail at a shallower depth. Kupton will lose the contract and the American Navy will be back to square one.”

“It is a brilliant plan. Because we are many months ahead of them, we should be able to get enough parts from you to complete at least a dozen subs before Kupton goes under. That will give our scientists enough time to fully analyze the new process.”

Pytor took a drink and said, “I'll be putting the shipping team together. They will pack and mark the containers. You will need to get me the proper credentials to get them into your facility after second the shift ends. Have you made arrangements for the ship?”

“Yes, one of the investors is a shipping magnate. We will use his ships to move the parts as far as Sweden. From there, I understand they will travel through Latvia and then onto the shipyards.”

“Why not take them straight to Latvia?”

“We could, but his normal route ends in Sweden. It will be less suspicious that way.”

Pytor nodded, and the two men ended their talk of business. Matthew gave his condolences on Pytor’s death, which got a hearty laugh from his comrade. The next few hours were spent talking about Mother Russia, families, and sacrifice.

When they were finished talking, Matthew drove back to the plant. The shift was just ending. He went down to the special unit to see this new kid. He was leaving, and a couple of guys were patting him on the back. He must have had a good day. He looked like a true blue American. It made him happy to think this young kid would be helping to betray his country.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Jack was dreading the next few minutes. Nobody liked to deliver bad news. Even if the detective was bluffing, he couldn’t keep it from Dewey. Jack told the new guy, John, he could go check on the analysts. He made it sound like he was doing John a favor, but, in truth, he didn’t want him to hear the discussion.

Dewey and Gilbert were poring over data. There were stacks of paper everywhere and they seemed almost frantic. They both looked happy. When Dewey saw Jack, he said, “You won’t believe the break we got.”

Jack thought it might be best to get the bad news out of the way. “Henry Wood spotted us.”

Gilbert laughed and said, “I thought you said you were invisible when tailing a subject?”

“I screwed up. You can give me a hard time later. There is one more thing.”

Dewey never knew Jack to take Gilbert’s ribbing without saying anything back. He set the report down and gave Jack his full attention. “What is it?”

“He knows we are CIA. He said he was going to talk to a friend at the Bureau.”

Gilbert said, “How in the hell did he find that out?”

“He got the drop on us and pulled a gun. I tried to calm him down and showed him my ID, but it went south.”

Dewey asked, “You think he was bluffing?”

“Yes, I do.”

Gilbert, “Of course you do. You got caught with your pants around your ankles. If he talks to the Feds, we’re done. Langley will shut us down or ,worse, hang us out to dry. This is a black op; they can say we did it on our own.”

Dewey moved between Gilbert and Jack, “Calm down, Gil. We need your analytical mind more than ever. First of all, it might really have been a bluff. If it isn’t, well, we may be able to talk our way out.”

Gilbert backed off. He knew Dewey was right.

Jack asked, “What do you mean ‘talk our way out’?“

“That is what I was about to tell you. We finally got a break. An important Russian agent was spotted by one of our analysts.”

Jack was shocked. “How? Who? When did they spot him?”

Gilbert, calmer now, said, “Don’t get worked up. You're just mad that it wasn’t you who saw him.”

Jack did calm down. He realized his reaction was out of line. “You're right. Go ahead.”

Dewey looked at Jack for just a split second. As he picked up the report it flashed across his mind that Jack’s behavior was outside the norm. Jack was never outside the norm. He would think about it more when he was alone, Dewey continued, “Oleg Kiselev is alive. It was a complete fluke. Phil had just completed a report I asked him to put together detailing all of Oleg’s known subordinates. He stayed up all night to finish it. After we went over the report, he went out for coffee. As he walked out of the diner, he held open the door for a guy in a hat. The guy takes off his hat and says thanks, in a bad American accent. It is Oleg.”

Jack asked, “What did Phil do?”

“He didn’t do anything, which was smart. Phil isn’t a field agent but was smart enough not to try to follow him. He came back and told me about the contact. Here's his report.”

Jack read it while Gilbert started talking. “Yeah, he had a bag of groceries, which means he must have a safe house in the neighborhood. Heck, we might be able to see him from the office. If he is in town, then it means something big is about to go down. The Russians went to a lot of trouble to fake his death.”

Jack nodded, still flipping through the report.

Dewey said, “If Oleg is alive, then you can bet Pytor’s death was a ruse as well. If those two are working together, this must be bigger than we could have ever imagined. It's our ace in the hole.”

Jack asked, “What do you want me to do about Henry Wood?”

Dewey said, “I think you need to back off Henry. We may need another card to play. I want you to focus on Celine.”

Jack didn’t like being taken off Henry, but he knew Dewey was right. “Is anyone monitoring the office bugs?”

Gilbert said, “Good point. If he does know someone at the FBI, we may be able to find out for sure, and I bet he tells Celine about being tailed by the CIA.” Gilbert left the office to go assign an analyst to live monitor the bugs and to listen to the tapes from the morning.

With Gilbert gone, Jack felt he had to say something else about his encounter. “I'm sorry, boss. I really dropped the ball today. Maybe you should put someone else on Celine? I could go after Oleg.”

Dewey knew Jack. It wasn’t like him to beg off an assignment involving a beautiful woman. Maybe it was guilt, he thought, or just Jack’s ego wanting the bigger fish, but something felt wrong. “We don’t have time to get someone else close to her. It has to be you. Don’t worry about Henry. It happens. We won’t let him ruin everything we have been working on. I promise you that. This is the break we needed. The Russians have no idea we know he is alive, let alone, here in the city. We need to play this one close to the vest. As long as he thinks he is hidden, we have an edge.”

Jack left and went home for the day. He was worried. This was not what he had expected, and he was assigned to romance a secretary while Oleg was drinking coffee right under his nose. Jack knew that a big move was being made by Moscow. He would just have to wait to find out how it was all to play out. Jack didn’t like to wait.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Henry got back to the office and found Celine at her desk. Buttons was sitting on the desk watching Celine do some paperwork. “I see you and Buttons are hard at work.”

Celine said, “Yes, we are friends now, but Buttons doesn’t quite understand the chain of command.” She rubbed the cat’s ears and Buttons said, “Meow”, then purred.

“I think Buttons has a firm grasp on the chain of command and will eventually bring you around to his way of thinking.”

Buttons agreed, “Meooow.”

They both laughed. “How was the widow?”

“She is still in mourning. We talked for about thirty minutes. I didn’t learn much.”

“Did she know about Cynthia Pollard?”

“I don’t think so. She talked a lot about how much she missed her husband. I could tell she loved Daniel. I asked if there had been anything out of the ordinary but she said 'no'. We talked about their relationship but there wasn’t a whiff of betrayal. If she knew, she didn’t let on.”

“Did you say you expected foul play?”

“Yes, and she seemed to have been thinking the same thing. She kept saying that suicide didn’t make any sense. She must have said it half a dozen times.”

Buttons grew tired of the talk and went off to find a spot for napping.

Henry got himself a cup of coffee and continued, “The widow Kupton wasn’t the exciting part of the morning, though.”

“Oh?”

Henry leaned back, putting his feet up. “I spotted a tail.” He paused because he knew Celine would eat it up.

“Really? How did you spot them?”

Damn, Henry thought, he had planned on glossing over the getting lost part of the story. “I was out on Long Island and…” Henry took a sip of coffee, bracing himself for a look. “…I got lost. When I turned around, I saw them. When I struggled to get back on track, I noticed they were still behind me.”

Celine didn’t mock him at all. She just kept listening, wide-eyed. “That was some good luck.”

“Yes, I suppose it was. I should have noticed them earlier, though.”

“What did you do after that? Did you lose them?”

Henry gave her all the details. Celine most enjoyed the part about threatening to tell the FBI.

***

An analyst listening to the bugs in Henry’s office leapt to his feet and motioned for someone to get Gilbert. He sat back down and continued to write out notes. When Gilbert arrived, he handed the paper to him, without taking off the headphones. Gilbert read it and let out a sigh. He went back to Dewey’s office.

“I got some good news. It seems Jack was right. The FBI friend was a bluff.”

“You want to tell him?” Dewey smiled.

“We could let him sweat for a while.”

“Yes, we could, but we need him focused.”

“Are you going to keep him on dame duty?”

Dewey thought about it for a minute. “It might be a good idea. This Henry Wood guy seems to be pushing pretty hard. I still think it's the right play. What about you?”

“Don’t tell him I said so, but he is probably the best man to find Oleg.”

Dewey considered his point. It was a good one. It was times like these where success or failure of a mission balanced on the razor-thin edge of a single decision. Dewey didn’t need to tell Gilbert he wanted to be alone. Gilbert closed the door on his way out of the office.

Dewey poured himself a drink while playing all the moves in his head. Like a chess grand master, he was usually half a dozen moves ahead, and, if he missed something, it might mean checkmate. He wondered where Oleg was and if Pytor was here, too. Unlike chess, the spy game often required making decisions based on unclear facts but reasonable assumptions. He preferred hard facts, though, they were often a luxury.

He looked out his window and scanned the crowd below for a Russian man carrying a bag of groceries while thinking about Jack’s reaction to the news. It was nothing more than a slight look that seemed out of place. It wasn’t even the look so much as how quickly Jack had changed back to normal. That was part of any good spy's training, but why did he need it then, at that moment? It bothered Dewey. He decided to keep Jack assigned to the secretary until he could figure it out.

Dewey took a sip of his drink and considered his own judgment. Was he becoming too cautious? Had he started to see conspiracies where none existed? Had he wasted everyone’s time with this mission? He returned to his desk and went back to work. There just wasn’t any time for doubt.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Oleg slept for exactly sixty minutes. He was getting into his field routine. He got on the floor, did two hundred push-ups, and three hundred sit-ups before taking a shower. He shaved with a straight edge razor, combed his hair, chose a dark suit, and laid it on the bed. He put on a tee shirt and shorts.

The suitcase was sitting on the bed. It contained the tools of the trade. He selected a hex bolt from the group of twelve. The hex part screwed off revealing the interior compartment. The Markarov PM 9mm pistol was kept in perfect working condition; still, he grabbed the cleaning kit, too. Oleg took these and a pen and some paper out to the kitchen table.