The Bigot List: (A J.J. McCall Novel) (22 page)

Early Thursday Morning…

U
sually slow to rise, Koshechka slipped out of bed before the street lights shut off. She knew he’d want his coffee early, even though he had been jittery and his nerves dangled on the edge of breakdown ever since he passed the information regarding Vorobyev to the embassy against her advice. His over-eager chicken shit tongue sparked a chaotic chain of events that threw Moscow and Washington into a tailspin. He’d selected the wrong moment to man up. According to a late-night text from her colleague, Freeman had turned up the heat on everyone. From the cafeteria staff to the entrance gate security police, no one had been left untouched. Full-scale internal investigations had been ordered for everyone. Freeman vowed to leave no personnel file unopened until the snitch had been identified and arrested.

Koshechka understood all too well the consequences which is the reason she urged him to keep his mouth shut until after he’d passed the polygraph, but he refused to listen. Now they’d both pay.

She heard him ease up to the kitchen doorway as she started the coffee pot. Her back to him, she assumed he’d silently stalk her in his usual unnerving way.

“You nervous about today?” she asked, spinning around to see his face. She always monitored his responses. His facial expressions always double-crossed him and revealed his true feelings, even when his words said otherwise.

“I don’t think this is a good idea. We have travel documents, and we’ll have enough money to take care of ourselves for a long time. Why can’t we just pick up the cash today and leave? You know, take the money and run.”

“I have no immunity. I must be careful...and I also have a child to think about now. This isn’t about you and me. We have another life to consider here. I won’t be left with nothing, ever again!” she snapped. Her obvious contempt threw Chris off guard. She stammered for a moment and then softened.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a sexy moan. The coffee pot sounded and she deeply inhaled the aroma. “You need coffee, darling. Come, let me pour.”

He followed her to the counter as she prepared his cup.

Her voice calmed. “I just don’t want to leave here to live in some godforsaken country in the middle of nowhere with a new baby, do you?” she battered her eyelashes and rubbed her hand against his chest. “And when the money runs out, what do we do?”

His spine curved. With a grave expression, he gazed down. “You’re right my love,” he said. “I’m gonna pull myself together.”

“I knew you would honey. Never doubted you for a second.”

Koshechka had been running from poverty as a loner for most of her life. She had few acquaintances and fewer genuine friends. Her father’s work with the KGB First Chief Directorate, which deployed officers to Western countries such as the United States, kept him away from home for most of her childhood. Her mother, who had nary a nurturing bone in her body, succumbed to a bottle-a-day vodka habit, refused to travel with him. Koshechka’s days were filled with squandered money and unpaid bills. As she scorned her mother, she placed her father on the highest pedestal, promising to rise to meet him at all costs.

Her will and determination to succeed at almost any cost, coupled with her introverted nature, set her apart from her classmates at the SVR’s Red Banner Institute. So, their plans for her changed—slightly. Directorate S, which closely monitored her progress, decided she was well suited for a clandestine position under a special cover legend they’d been developing for ten years—Madeleine Bouchard. She traveled from the Ukraine to Bern, to Vienna, and finally to Canada. In each country, she established a new identity and abandoned her past. In Canada, she received her final documents a Canadian birth certificate and a passport, virtually erasing the life she’d longed to forget.

The father she yearned to know had just begun his first tour at the Russian Embassy in Washington. She wanted so much to see him, to be near him, to hear him call her
Solnyshko
once again. But maintaining her cover meant she could never go anywhere near the embassy. If the FBI lookouts noticed her walking in, she would come under immediate scrutiny. She was forced to rely on impersonal communication to contact him and so dropped a letter into his vehicle during one of his cover stops. His absence would be her only regret, but he’d return home to her soon. And she’d be there, in Moscow, waiting with open arms and an eager heart.

Although she realized Chris’s suggestion to bail and leave the country had been more common sense than nonsense, she had hoped closing in the physical distance to her father would help bridge the emotional one. Then J.J. had to go and fuck up the plans, whining about that pig Polyakov. If Jack had done his job and gotten rid of her as she ordered him years before, she’d have been long gone and the ICE Phantom investigation a memory.

Hanssen’s arrogance, narcissism, and greed had led him to his demise and Koshechka’s unquenched thirst for her father’s adoration and her nation’s respect had nearly led her to the same dark sticky end.

Almost.

She entered the cramped office in her intentionally modest home. Although the photocopied files she’d collected and stashed away for the past few weeks
might
serve as Chris’s last drop, they
certainly
would constitute her final U.S. operation. She hadn’t been in the habit of drinking, but a shot of Stoli would give her the patience to get through the morning without making Chris suspicious of her true intentions. She reached behind her favorite book,
The Daughter of the Commandant
by Pushkin, and pulled out the small flask from which she drew two long sips. She reminded herself of her mother, hiding liquor. Her reflection in the framed photo sitting on her bookshelf, the one into which she’d been Photoshopped, gave her pause. The Stoli slipped down her throat with barely a wince and warmed her to the tips of her fingers. She’d have chased it with a cigarette, but Chris must leave first.

After wrapping the packages carefully to seal the exposed edges with the gray duct tape, she carried it to its courier.

“You ready?” she said, watching him descend from the stairs cloaked head-to-toe in black clothing and an unattractive stench of fear.

“Ready as I’ll ever be I guess.” He grabbed the package from her hand and bent slightly to kiss her blushed cheek goodbye. She offered it to him so he wouldn’t smell the scent of alcohol on her breath. And then she wished him luck.

“What are you going to do until I get back home?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe have another shot of vodka and smoke a cigarette,” she said.

He paused until she smiled, then he laughed.

“You’re joking,” he said, chuckling. “But don’t quit your day job.”

“Too late. Already did.” She patted him on the back and followed him to the front porch. “Don’t forget what I told you about the test and you’ll be fine. I promise.” She watched him shuffle to the car and blew him a kiss goodbye as his car disappeared into the distance.

“Finally,” she exhaled. “It’s time.”

C
hris white-knuckled the steering wheel as he weaved through traffic. He debated whether he should take I-66 and drive to Washington Field office; there he could turn himself in and confess the whole sordid affair. But could he do so without implicating his Koshechka? After all, she was carrying his child. No child of his would be born behind bars because he ratted out the woman he loved. Who would care for it? Both of his parents were globe-trotting retirees. Saddling them with an infant grandchild, born out of wedlock no less, was hardly an option.

Refusing the test, which would’ve placed him under immediate suspicion, was also a non-starter. Employing countermeasures was his only option. He’d pass the test and maintain his cover through the painful four hours. Afterward, he’d have the grounds to insist they defect sooner than later.

He pulled into the park and noticed more people than usual were out exercising. But then again, he had little to compare it to as he’d only been in the location one other time. Still, if the drop site had not been so far down the trail, he might have considered aborting the op. Given the distance, he’d be able to tell within seconds whether he was being followed.

He exited the car, and a cool howling gust made him shudder, sent a chill through his core. He grabbed the package from the trunk then paused and listened, wondering if the universe might be whispering to him, maybe the winds of change. He pressed on, hoofed to the drop location. The sound of crisp $100 bills was, at that moment, his only real concern.

•  •  •

Koshechka grabbed her cell phone and dialed his number. He was her one true love, the lone silver lining in the dark clouds of her chaotic world.

“Darling.” Her voice smiled at the sound of his. Her father would be proud of her choice. He was stronger and even more cunning than she. After all, he’d conned more people in less time. Though years younger, he reminded her of what little she knew of her father, and those characteristics are what drew her to him.

“There’s my girl,” he sang. “What took you so long?”

“Eh! Took forever to get him out of the house.” She placed a few family photos into a large moving box. Their flight was scheduled and they had nothing to do except show up at the airport and survive the security checkpoint. Once through, they were home free. She wished she could see the expression on Chris’s face. She’d duped him in more ways than one.

“I’m so glad you won’t have to deal with that asshole anymore,” he said after his hearty chuckle ended. “What time’s his polygraph this morning?”

“I think it’s at ten,” she said.

“You taught him the countermeasures, right? I can’t believe he thought he passed those practice exams.”

“I can,” she said. “Now, we don’t have much time. Unlike my colleagues at the embassy, if they catch me, I have no diplomatic immunity and I’ll be no better off than Jack.”

“I know. This operation should be over by noon. I’ll go home, switch cars, and meet you at Dulles,” he said. “We’ll be in the air before anyone’s the wiser.”

“Yes, indeed.” Koshechka looked out the window at the autumn rainbow along her fence line. She’d miss her house most of all. Her flat on the outskirts of Moscow would be home for some time. She wished she could transport the Cape Cod to her village. “Now I’ll meet you outside the security gate at 1:00. That should leave us plenty of time. Maybe we can stop at Harry’s to toast our future before we board the plane.”

“You’ll have sparkling apple cider, remember? We don’t want you to hurt the
baby
,” he said, enjoying a sinister laugh at Chris’s expense. “Silly schmuck.”

“Enough of your jokes already. We need to get moving,” she said. “I can see the finish line.”

“Me, too. Meet you there.”

•  •  •

The sun’s rays broke across the horizon, and a strong acrid breeze whipped through the trees. Thanks to Director Freeman’s call to the Park Police chief, the patrol officers unlocked the gates a few minutes earlier than usual to give the Gs a head start. Tony and J.J. watched the surveillance personnel move into their positions—some camouflaged and crouched beneath piles of leaves, others dressed in plain clothes, passing themselves off as early morning fitness freaks.

MacDonald authorized enough personnel to post at seven of the eight areas J.J. had identified as the most ideal operational sites. Jiggy’s position was close enough to the eighth that he could view the area with high powered binoculars, yet far enough away that he wouldn’t be spotted.

J.J. and Tony positioned themselves roughly twenty-five meters down from Jake, where they could monitor cars approaching on the access road. Jake’s cam-car, equipped with video, would capture anything they missed.

As J.J. thought about the significant odds against them, a bout of panic overcame her. The locations she selected might not be correct; the timing might be all wrong. For all J.J. knew, the mole may have already suspected the Bureau planned to roll him up and aborted the operation or changed the drop location. Her hand began to tremble once more, heightening her anxiety.

“Any word from Dmitriyev on the cash drop? Even though we’ll have Chris covered for the rest of the day, it’d be nice to get positioned ahead of time. That way we can tape it for prosecution.”

“This will never make it to court,” J.J. said.

“Not once we get this on camera it won’t,” Tony said.

She glanced down at her cell phone and checked her text messages. She’d set it to vibrate, thought she might’ve missed the incoming. “No, nothing yet,” J.J. responded. “He’s supposed to text me the location after Golikov’s people leave if he overhears a location.”

“He’s not going to text you from his personal phone, is he? What if embassy security checks it?” Tony asked.

“No, no. I gave him a throwaway at our first meeting, remember? He sends one text and tosses it. Those were my instructions and for his own safety he better follow them to the letter,” she glanced at her watch. “Time to do a mic check.”

She picked up the secure radio. “This is Blue Leader one. Is team number one in position?”

“Ten-four good buddy,” Jake interrupted, sounding country strong. “Team one is in position.”

“Team two?”

“Roger that, Blue Leader one. Team two is in position.”

“I’d like to lodge a formal complaint,” Jiggy interjected. “Why am I out here in the sticks by myself? It’s dark and these squirrels got me shook.”

Jake jumped on the bandwagon. “I just hope you picked the right locations, J.J. Otherwise we might all have a long morning.”

“You mean,
you
might have a long morn—”

“Looks like we’ve got an incoming. Stay alert. Stay alert,” Jake said.

J.J.’s head pounded harder than her heartbeat. She waited for Jake to deliver the news they’d long waited to hear—the identity of the mole. A few seconds passed before she realized she’d been holding her breath. She released it and inhaled again. She wanted to grab Tony’s hand and squeeze it until the blood gathered in his fingertips, but she resisted.
This is it!
she thought to herself
. We’re now at the moment we’ve been waiting for.
She and Tony eyed each other briefly before Jake spoke again.

“All right, Jake, we’re cooking with gas,” Tony said. “As soon as you can see the license, give me the number so I can call in the plate.”

The car crept along. J.J. watched Jake rock back and forth as if he struggled to see the plate. Through the tinted glass, she could see a figure, a male figure as far as she could tell. The man craned his neck, scanning the park, looking for something, maybe suspicious visitors as if he expected to see someone he recognized. After a few seconds that felt more like a few hours, the driver pulled into a parking space and turned off the ignition.

“Jesus, he’s finally parked. I can’t see inside the car, but—he’s getting out. He’s getting out. He’s walking around to the trunk. Shit! I missed the plate and he’s blocking the number! I can’t see it.”

The man walked with his head down. Dressed in black jeans and a dark hoodie that concealed his face, he opened the trunk and pulled out a trash bag sealed with duct tape and a pair of gloves. He glanced over both shoulders before closing the trunk and heading into the park.

“He took the package out of the trunk and headed into the park. Looks like we’ve got D.C. plates—David, Tango, 9-9-2-2.”

Tony and J.J. looked at each other and she picked up the radio. “Is that a Black Toyota SUV?” she asked.

“Roger that, looks like a Sequoia.”

“That’s Chris Johnson’s truck,” she confirmed.

“Well, I’ll be a caught dog,” Jake said. “That’s Agent Johnson all right. All dressed in black and carrying a plastic bag wrapped in duct tape. I’ve got the dash cam running.”

“We nailed him!” Tony said, giving J.J. a high five. “I knew the son of a bitch was dirty. Smile for the camera, douche bag!”

J.J. nodded in agreement.

“We need to pinch this jerk-off, now,” Tony said. “Let’s roll him up.”

“All in due time,” she responded. “Even on the outside chance he doesn’t show up for his polygraph, he’s not making a single move without picking up that money this afternoon.”

“No doubt,” Tony said.

“We’ll let Money T’s team cover him for the rest of the day. As soon as he returns to pick up the money we’ll get him. And this mess will be all over,” she turned to face Tony. “Mike’s going to hold him at the exam site until we give him the okay to let Chris go, right?”

“Yep,” Tony replied. He’d spoken with Mike early that morning and made all the necessary arrangements. “He’s got that part under control. He ain’t goin’ anywhere without our okay.”

She held the radio to her mouth. “All right, Money T, when he leaves here, you’ve got the eye. He’s got to mark the signal to let the Russian’s know it’s time to pick up the drop and leave the cash,” J.J. ordered. “Let him out of your sight and you’ll be the next one with the pink Mini Coop, are we understood?”

“Roger that,” said Money T. “Trust me. I’ll be on his ass like a summer breeze. He might feel me, but he won’t see me.”

“That’s what I want to hear!”

Not five minutes later Chris left the park empty handed. How he could live with himself, J.J. didn’t know but she couldn’t wait to pop his ass later that day. The arrest would signal an end to the Bureau’s woes and her misery.

“Blue Leader, this is Cham.” She posed as a power walker on the trail in order to scout out the exact drop location. “Looks like he made the drop about 100 meters in. I couldn’t get eyes on the exact location because I had to keep moving.”

“Good work, Cham,” J.J. said before turning to Tony. “All right! Time to make the switch.”

Tony grabbed the radio. “J.J. and I are going in, Jake. I’m taking the radio. I don’t care if you see a bird flying crooked, make sure you radio me if anything looks suspicious. Don’t let us get caught out there with our balls hangin’ out.”

“Roger that, blue team,” Jake said. “We’ve got you covered.”

J.J. retrieved the package from the back seat. She and Tony moved quickly under cover of the towering trees to find the drop location. Based on the information they’d received from Dmitriyev the site was approximately 100 meters down and to the right of the walking path in a hollowed log. A twisted Coca-Cola can next to an adjacent rock would mark the area. Her gaze darted around as she scanned to find the precise location.

“Hurry up, slow poke,” Tony said. “Chris should be marking the signal any minute and I’m sure the Russians won’t be too far behind.”

No sooner than the words passed Tony’s lips, the radio sounded. “Blue Leader, this is Money T. The subject just marked the signal. White duct tape on a light pole in a shopping center parking lot approximately three miles west of the drop location, off of Connecticut Avenue. I’m hanging tight to see when our friends drive—uh!” Money paused.

“What is it? What is it?” Tony asked.

“He must’ve been running late. A vehicle with Russian diplomatic plates just passed me. Couldn’t catch all the numbers but I’ll bet they’re on the way to the drop location.”

“Copy that, Money,” Tony said. He picked up the pace, his feet crunching the fallen leaves as he hoofed along the trail. “You just stay on Chris. Make sure he gets to the Bureau offsite for the test!”

“I’m on him.”

“Shit! We’ve got to hurry up,” J.J. said breaking into a run. “If Golikov’s people are only three miles away, they’ll be here any minute.”