One Child (31 page)

Chapter

57

Nearing Moscow

The train was a milk run and took seven and a half hours to cover the distance between St. Petersburg and Moscow. Its estimated time of arrival was 05:30 on Sunday morning.

Despite
Carson
's passing out in the airport,
Julie
and he had made the flight out of Frankfurt.
Julie
's quick reaction to the situation, explaining to the security personnel that he suffered from low blood pressure but would be fine in a minute or two, defused a potential disaster. They flew into Stockholm and took a quick cross-border flight into Russia. After arriving in St. Petersburg they cleared Customs and Immigration and caught a cab to the train station and purchased two tickets to Moscow. Having missed the Express, which took less than four hours, there was only one option -Daily Train #29. The upside to traveling by rail was that, unlike flying, no identification was required. That ensured their trail, which Androv would be following, went cold in St. Petersburg.

They were sharing a private coach with a polite couple from Belarus, and as the train neared Moscow
Carson
stared out the window at the moonlit countryside, wondering how he had been so foolish as to put
Nicki
's life at risk. It would have been easy to rationalize his behavior and tell himself that Wall Street demanded certain things of people at high levels. But that argument didn't fly. He had screwed up and now the woman he loved was going to pay.

The economic meltdown from the sub-prime mortgage fiasco had swept across the country and then the world, but the traders on Wall Street had skimmed overtop the carnage, mostly untouched. Average people had lost their houses, their businesses, their savings. The people he worked with came out just fine. He had survived with barely a scratch. Not anymore. Pushing the computers too far had backfired and this time he was personally affected. The faceless masses had come home to roost. He closed his eyes and drifted into a tormented sleep.

Julie
woke him when they were twenty minutes from the main station. He used the time to splash some water on his face and pound back two cups of coffee. They talked for a few minutes about the situation with
Nicki
- which explained the panic attack in the airport - and
Julie
was surprisingly sympathetic. Her stance was that things always happened for a reason. That life's challenges had ways of working out. He was not at all convinced.

They reached the station and hurried through the throngs to the main entrance. A car was waiting for them at the curb and
Julie
introduced the man in the front seat, next to the driver, as Evan Lucas. One of her senior associates, Evan was capable of handling anything, no matter what. Evan was quiet and thoughtful as
Julie
explained why
Carson
was with her.
Carson
was content to settle into the back seat and listen as the two security experts talked.

"We've asked for permission to look in the tunnels around the stadium, but getting clearance is almost impossible," Evan said when
Julie
had finished.

Evan was mid-thirties and dressed in expensive jeans and tailored shirts that were fitted at his thin waist. Every hair was in place and he was clean-shaven. His home city was London, and when he had first applied for the job
Julie
had been reticent to hire him, given the distance from the United States, where most of her work was at the time. She had decided to give him a shot and considered it one of the best decisions she had ever made.

"What else do we have?"
Julie
asked.

"They could use gas. Nothing fatal, maybe a mild nerve agent that incites vomiting. Doubtful, as it doesn't really make
Volstov
look like the bad guy. We have three other possibilities." He pulled a file out of his leather briefcase, flipped it open and reviewed the final three scenarios.

"No,"
Julie
said when he finished going through the list. "I have a feeling this has something to do with the main electrical feed. First thing tomorrow morning we need to check on the power outages the city scheduled for the area around the stadium. It's too coincidental."

"The superintendent at the stadium already called."

"
He
called.
We
didn't. Not yet. First thing tomorrow. I want to hear from the city that they ordered the outages."

"Okay," Evan said. He made a note in the small notebook he carried with him at all times.

"We need to get into the tunnels near the stadium, but if they're planning on taking down the substation that feeds it, we may need to expand our search area."

"Maybe not," Evan countered. "The further from the station they are, the more area they black out. Then it looks like the city screwed up, not the promoter. And, if you're talking about a substation, you're talking about very high voltage. That gets very dangerous."

Julie
mulled it over. "Good points. Still, get some plans showing the main feed into the stadium." She glanced at her watch. "Shit, it's already the 22
nd
. We have three days until the concert." She was starting to show signs of the panic she was feeling.

"One more thing," Evan said, consulting his notebook. "The truck with the backup generator broke down in Belarus."

Julie
cocked her head a bit to one side and stared at him. "And when the hell did you find out about that?"

"Last night, about midnight. The driver pulled in for fuel and a bite to eat and when he went to leave, the truck wouldn't start. The computer is shot."

"How long will it take to get it fixed?"

"At least a week by the time they can get a part through Customs and to the truck."

"Can we bring in one of the other generators?" she asked.

Evan shook his head. "We don't have one close enough to Moscow."

"Damn it," she said.

Carson
listened as they dove into the rest of the details.
Julie
was intelligent and focused. She peppered Evan with questions about the security setup at the concert, from the turnstiles to the front-row seats and every step in between. Backstage routes of getting the band in and out - always with an alternate. Food, water, dressing rooms, flowers, seating areas for family and friends, bodies to man the gates, the aisles, the access to the floor, the stage - the list was long and arduous. For every question she threw at Evan, he had an answer. But underlying the back-and-forth banter, their tone made it obvious that they were worried.
Carson
could tell from the intensity of their conversation that the threat was real.

He closed his eyes, blocked out their voices and tried to force the image of
Nicki
's face into the blackness. He wanted to call her, to tell her how much he loved her and that things were going to be fine. That she would get healthy and they would have a long and wonderful life together. Aside from the fact that he loved her, everything was a lie.

The driver pulled up in front of their hotel and they piled out onto the sidewalk.
Julie
motioned for him to come and he followed them through the lobby to the elevators. Evan already had a key for him, and he and
Julie
stopped and checked out his room before heading up to the suite they had rented.

"Stay in the room until we come back for you. We'll call first, then come to the door a minute later. Don't open the door for anyone. No one. Not the hotel manager, or the cleaning staff. Do you understand?"

Carson
nodded. "Yes."

"We'll be at least two hours. Probably more. Get some sleep."

The door clicked behind them and he clamped the security bolt in place. He fell onto the bed and within seconds he was asleep.

Chapter

58

Moscow, Russia

Trey listened to his contact inside Langley with great interest. Grant's passport had been scanned late Saturday evening on an outgoing flight from Stockholm - destined for St. Petersburg. It was now Sunday afternoon, and Grant was already in Russia.

Trey picked up a pad of paper with the Korston Hotel logo at the top and sat in a wingback chair near the window. He started a chronological list of Grant's apparent involvement in
Fleming
's private affairs. At the top of the list was the intrusion into
Fleming
's e-mail account at
Platinus Investments
. There was no doubt that he had read all four e-mails concerning the Moscow gig. Which meant he had certain keywords to work with.
Team. Lindstrom. Maelle. Petr. Alexi.
Plus, Grant had the e-mail header, which was how he sourced out the sender.

Once Grant knew who had sent the e-mails, he had some bit player named Aaron hack into the CIA database by inserting a Trojan Virus in an employee's computer. That gave Grant Trey's entire CIA file. Grant also had three other names to work with. Of the three, Lindstrom was the most damaging. Somehow, Grant had managed to connect
Julie
Lindstrom to the chain of evidence he was building. Then he eluded a killer who seldom, if ever, missed a target. The fact that Grant ran out with a sick fiancee and didn't use the front door indicated he knew Androv was waiting. But how?

He stood up and paced the room. Grant had flown from the US to Frankfurt, then caught a flight to Stockholm, which was a short hop from Russia. From there he flew over the border to St. Petersburg. Grant was no fool. He knew if he flew directly into Moscow, Androv's team would be waiting for him. He was thinking and acting like a professional, which meant the Wall Street trader wasn't working alone.

Trey sat at the table and pulled out his file on
Julie
Lindstrom and her company,
Details Matter
. Everything he had learned about the woman was inside and he read through it. The fact that she had spent fifteen years with the FBI pretty much explained everything. Lindstrom got to Grant and his fiancee first and spirited them out the back of the building. And they weren't heading for St. Petersburg, they were on their way to Moscow. Lindstrom had connected
Fleming
's e-mail to the concert. He picked up the phone and dialed Maelle's room.

"We're checking out," he said when she answered.

"Problems?" Maelle asked.

"Maybe. Probably. Get packed and come down here. I'll fill you in."

He called Petr's room but it went to voice mail. He tried the Russian's cell number with the same result. He left a message.
Check out and keep your cell phone turned on. Do not return to the Korston under any circumstances.
Then he made one more call. Alexi answered after a few rings.

"He's in Moscow," Trey said.

"Who? Grant?" Alexi asked.

"Of course." Trey was having trouble keeping his anger in check. The Russian should never have missed. This was causing problems that were going to escalate. "You need to be back here, now."

"Is
Fleming
sending his plane?"

"Are you fucking nuts?" Trey spat into the phone. "If
Fleming
had you in his sights right now, he'd kill you. Get a commercial flight and do it now. Call me on my cell when you arrive in Moscow."

"You're worried about some Wall Street schmuck?" Androv asked.

"He's with
Julie
Lindstrom. I'm worried about her." Trey was seething.

"She's just a bitch. We can take care of her."

Trey's angered boiled over. "Don't underestimate her, Alexi, or she'll take you out before you even know she's in the room." Hand-to-hand combat, small arms and explosives weren't things a typical female was familiar with, but they were in her file. "She spent fifteen years with the FBI in counter-terrorism."

"Whatever."

"Get back to Moscow. And don't come to the Korston. We're checking out."

Trey slammed the phone in its cradle and started working on dismantling their communication and work center. He rolled up the plans of the tunnels, taking time to mark which grid each one covered. The transmitter to trip the low amperage remote that would then send power to the contactors was carefully stored in a padded box. Without it, the mission was a complete failure. It operated on a specific frequency and was encrypted so no one could start or stop the process without the password. It was Alexi's work, and it was brilliant.

There was a knock on the door and he looked through the peephole. It was Maelle. He opened the door and she pushed in dragging her suitcase behind her.

"What's happening?" she asked.

He filled her in on Grant's escape and
Julie
Lindstrom's appearance on the scene. "Her job is to protect the band," he said. "By now, she knows what Grant knows. It's not going to take her long to figure out what our plan is."

"So we're dead in the water?" Maelle asked.

Trey shook his head. "I don't think so. Petr should have the last contactor in place by now. Everything is live and ready to go. They're well hidden behind the panels, so unless Lindstrom and her team know where to look, they'll have no idea where we've cut into the system. All we need to do now is stay under the radar for three days then push the button."

"Where are we going to hide out?" Maelle asked.

"The Hotel Akvarel. It's central and they don't ask questions. I'm worried that Lindstrom is going to search the area for new leases or purchases and find our retail space. If she finds that, she finds our access to the storm sewers."

"That's not good," Maelle said.

"Not good at all," Trey agreed. "C'mon, it's almost noon. Help me pack."

Chapter

59