“What’s taking so long?” Dinara asked. “We should never have handed it over.”
“The tools they have in this building will outperform anything else, even the tech we have at Private,” I replied.
The door opened and Carrie Underwood entered. “The ambassador would like to see you,” she said.
We followed her to Thomas Dussler’s office, and found him with Erin Sebold and Master Gunnery Sergeant West. Dussler greeted us warmly, and invited us to take a seat. Erin watched us with a mix of glee and astonishment.
“I don’t know how you pulled it off, Mr. Morgan. You must have diamond-hard nerves. You’ve given us enough intel to keep our analysts busy for years. All of Salko’s files. It’s a treasure trove,” she said. “The downside is that Salko is livid. Surveillance footage clearly identified you. He’s accused you of being CIA spies and is demanding we hand you over with the stolen data. We’re pleading ignorance, of course.”
“You get anything on Veles?” I asked.
“A series of communiqués,” Erin replied. “They’re coded, but we’ve been able to decipher the most recent one. It orders Veles back to the United States to protect Minerva. Salko is concerned you might know Minerva’s identity.”
“Minerva?” I remarked.
“We’re going through any records that refer to Bright Star. There aren’t many, which suggests Salko keeps any data related to that program somewhere else, but there is a report to the President, saying Minerva is the culmination of the Bright Star program and will redefine Russia’s place in the world.”
“Nothing else?” I asked.
Erin shook her head. “There might be so
me other coded material, but that’s all we’ve found so far. Naturally the identification of Minerva has become an Agency priority. We’re coordinating with the NSA and FBI to expedite the process.”
I knew what was coming. I could sense the shift in the air. The plumbers had fixed the broken pipes and now the owners wanted them out of their house.
“We appreciate everything you’ve done, Mr. Morgan,” Erin said, “but this is now a national security matter. We’ll take it from here.”
I fought the urge to sneer, and looked at Dinara, who smiled wryly.
“You can’t stay in Moscow,” Dussler said. “Your continued presence here is likely to spark a serious diplomatic incident. According to our information, Director Salko is willing to tear the world apart to get to you.”
“We’ve arranged transit for you back to the States,” Erin revealed. “Wherever you need to go.”
“And Dinara?” I asked.
Erin hesitated.
“You think I’m leaving her here after what happened to Leonid Boykov?”
“A second passenger won’t be a problem, will it, Ms. Sebold?” Dussler asked.
Erin shook her head. “Of course not, sir. Master Gunnery Sergeant West will take you to the airport. We have a plane waiting, and we’d like to have you airborne within the hour.”
“In that case, we should get going,” I said, getting to my feet.
Dussler offered me his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan. We can’t make any of this public, but we will try to clear your name, and I’ll be sharing a full report with the President.”
“I understand, Ambassador Dussler,” I replied. “And I appreciate whatever you can do. Ready, Master Gunnery Sergeant?”
West nodded. “Let’s get you home, Mr. Morgan.”
CHAPTER 96
WE LEFT THE embassy in the Land Rover’s secret compartment, and were one of three identical vehicles that set out from the compound at the same time, each heading for a different Moscow airport.
West had told us not to come out of the compartment after the initial search at the police checkpoint on Bolshoy Devyatinsky Lane. He was worried Russian intelligence would have picked up the presence of three CIA birds fueled and ready to fly at three different airports, and might have tied them to an escape attempt.
His fears seemed well founded, because the Land Rover was pulled over and searched twice en route to the airport. When we were stopped a second time, Dinara held my hand and squeezed it tight. We were in absolute darkness, so I couldn’t see her face, but her clammy palm and rapid, shallow breathing told me everything I needed to know. She was afraid, and, deep down, so was I. It would only take one exceptionally vigilant police office, or a failure of the Land Rover’s countermeasures, and our lives would be forfeited.