Vektor (11 page)

“I wouldn’t waste any more of that until you hear what I have to say. This isn’t going to be a celebratory moment for you or me. The president doesn’t feel that Vektor Labs is a clear and present danger to the United States, and will not authorize action against the facility or its personnel. I hope you’ve been practicing the art of holding your breath. I hear the toilet bowls are deep where you’ll likely end up,” Berg said.

“Wait a minute. Wait. He just dismissed the bioweapons program with the wave of a hand? After his country was attacked? It’s only a matter of time before another scientist makes a deal. Trust me, there are many interested parties,” Reznikov said, finally steadying his hand enough to pour three shots of vodka.

“A toast…”

“At eight in the morning?” Petrovich said.

“I’m still on Moscow time, which means I can drink whenever I want,” Reznikov replied, reaching for one of the glasses.

Berg preemptively stopped him by covering the three glasses with the palm of his hand and sliding them to his side of the oak table. This quick denial caused the Russian to rise out of his seat momentarily. Petrovich’s glare put him back in the chair without protest.

“I’d like to hear about some of those interested parties, especially any that might be intimately involved with the program. A little birdie told me that Vektor Labs hosts a whole array of foreign scientists, some of whom with questionable motives.”

“Well played, my friend,” Reznikov said.

“I’m not your friend,” Berg countered.

“Just an expression. You give, I give. That’s the way this works, no?”

“Time to open up door number three, or I’m going to bury you alive in the deepest, darkest prison I can find.”

Petrovich admired the way Berg controlled the situation. From Berg’s appearance and general demeanor, he’d expected the CIA officer to behave more like a reserved college professor. Instead, he was witnessing an interrogation disguised as bargaining.

“What is door number three?” the Russian asked.

“Just an expression. Time to show me all of your cards.”

The Russian shook his head.

“Lay it on the table.”

Reznikov looked around, confused. Apparently these phrases didn’t translate well into Russian. Berg looked over to Petrovich and forced a smile, returning his gaze to Reznikov to hiss the next statement.

“Time to tell us every fucking thing you know, or you’re gonna spend the rest of your short, miserable life in a hellhole.”

Reznikov recoiled at the sudden change in Berg’s persona, glancing around nervously. “Iranians,” he blurted.

“What about the Iranians?” Berg prodded.

“I was approached by Iranian intelligence agents while employed at Vektor, but at that point I hadn’t fully come to terms with my own plans to steal virus samples. They scared the hell out of me. Showing up in the least expected places at the oddest times. Hints were dropped about potential financial arrangements. After a while, they left me alone. I heard they were scrambling to find me when I left Vektor. Of course, that stopped once they finally got someone inside the facility. Is this what you might find behind door number three?”

“You’re getting closer. What do you mean by inside? Inside the P4 containment building? Inside the bioweapons program? What are we talking about here?”

Petrovich thought Berg sounded overeager, sensing a shift in the bargaining power.

“I’m told they have a scientist assigned to the infectious disease fellowship program. He’s been seen offsite with a likely Iranian intelligence agent. Not too many Persians in Novosibirsk. Not many outsiders at all. Now it’s time for a toast.”

Petrovich leaned in to take one of the shots off the table, wondering what Jessica would think of him drinking vodka at nine in the morning. He wasn’t driving, though, so what did it matter? After spending hours in Berg’s company, he could use a drink.

“To keeping your head out of a dirty toilet,” Petrovich said.

Reznikov didn’t look amused by his impromptu salutation. Neither did Berg. He shrugged his shoulders and drained the vodka down his throat, slamming the glass back down on the table like a fraternity pledge.

“Rude and uncivilized. Here’s to a long retirement in the mountains and a successful mission against Vektor,” Reznikov said.

Petrovich waited for both of them to finish their shots before interjecting. “I liked my toast better.”

Reznikov grabbed the bottle and poured another shot for himself, placing the bottle near Berg’s glass. The CIA officer declined.

“Maybe later. I need to make a phone call. If my boss isn’t willing to walk this back up the chain of command, this might be your last drink,” Berg said.

“Don’t tell him that,” Petrovich said. “He’ll end up just like we found him in Stockholm.”

Petrovich’s statement caused Reznikov to tense for a moment before he took another shot of vodka. He placed the glass on the table, and his grimace melted into a smile. He refilled Daniel’s glass.

“My friend, you need to lighten up a little. What happened to your arm?” he asked, waving the bottle at his shoulder.

“Dislocated my shoulder beating another prisoner to death,” Petrovich said.

“Come on. This is going to work out for everybody. Door number three I give to you!”

“We’ll see,” Petrovich said, taking him up on the offer of another shot. “Here’s to the miracle of automated defibrillators. Without them, our friend would be dead.”

“I don’t have to take this abuse,” Reznikov said.

“Take it easy on him, Daniel. We have a long day ahead of us,” Berg said, walking toward the front door to make his call in private.

“To your health,” Petrovich said, raising his glass to meet Reznikov’s.

“That’s better.”

The vodka burned slightly less going down the second time, leaving him with a warm buzz. Reznikov immediately poured another shot for each of them.

“I think that’s enough,” Petrovich said.

“Fine. Two for me, then.”

Petrovich walked over to the kitchen and waited for Berg to finish the phone call. He heard the bottle clink against glass again, which worried him. If Reznikov passed out from drinking, he had no intention of sticking around the compound to continue their conversation when he woke up. By the time Berg returned, he’d heard at least two more shots poured. He intercepted him in the hallway leading to the kitchen.

“I think our friend will be hallucinating within the hour if he keeps drinking like this.”

“The last time I visited him, he put away a bottle and a half in three hours. It kept him talking.”

“It’s your call. What did the home office say?”

“They’re walking it up to the director this morning. We might have an answer before we leave. My goal now is to get enough information to adequately plan the attack, regardless of the ultimate decision.”

Petrovich shook his head and grinned. Berg truly impressed him. Time to have some fun. When the two of them turned the corner, Reznikov screwed the cap on the bottle of vodka, which stood on the table half-empty. The serious look on his face betrayed a slight change in his attitude. Daniel guessed they were in for a request. The frightened scientist had found confidence in the clear liquid sitting at the bottom of his stomach. Not the kind of liquid courage found at a late-night karaoke bar, but something different. Berg sensed it too as they entered the kitchen nook.

“This ought to be good,” Berg mumbled.

“Gentlemen, before we proceed, I need assurances,” Reznikov said.

Berg sat at the table and sighed. “This isn’t a negotiation. We’ve been through this already. When and if your information is confirmed, you’ll be offered permanent residence at this wonderful facility. Signed and sealed by the director of the CIA. If your information is deemed deceitful or purposely jeopardizes the safety of my people, the deal is off.”

“That’s what I’m worried about…”

“What? The possibility that the mission will succeed and I’ll still throw you in a hole?” Berg said.

“I’d be worried about that,” Petrovich added.

“We both know I don’t have any control over your personal integrity, but I can drastically improve your team’s chance of success with a single phone call. I think we both can agree that it’s in my best interest for the team to succeed.”

“I’m listening,” Berg said.

“You’re going to need connections on the inside…”

“Not inside Vektor. It’s far too risky. Try again,” Berg said.

“I’m not talking about Vektor. I’m talking about inside Russia,” Reznikov said.

“Our team is perfectly capable of handling that aspect of the mission,” Petrovich said.

“Really? How much time have they spent in Russia, particularly Novosibirsk?”

They kept silent until Reznikov continued.

“Novosibirsk is a provincial Siberian city, with few foreigners…”

“The team is trained for that,” Berg said.

“Trained? You’ll only get one shot at this, Mr. Berg. Novosibirsk is still a Soviet city in many respects, unlike Moscow or Saint Petersburg. Less cosmopolitan, more bureaucracy. In order to pull this off, you’re going to need specialized equipment, weapons, explosives and hard-to-acquire transportation. You’re going to need a way to grease palms without raising eyebrows. If you don’t believe what I’m saying, get in touch with your analysts. I’m sure they’ll confirm what I’ve told you.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I have contacts in the
bratva
that can pave the way for your team. Take care of the logistical details and conduct preliminary surveillance,” Reznikov said, unscrewing the bottle.

“The Russian mafiya? You have to be kidding me. Why would the brotherhood help us…or help you?”

“Money, of course, and a favor I did for one of the Solntsevskaya brigadiers a few years ago. I provided a small amount of natural neurotoxin that targets the body’s respiratory muscles. Something I smuggled out of Vektor on their behalf. They had no idea what I was really working on back then. Anyway, he used it to quietly kill several rival mafiya ‘boyeviks’ over the course of a six-month period, while the Solntsevskaya gang solidified control of organized crime activity in the Novosibirsk Oblast. That favor will get me an audience. A large sum of money will get you the support you need to take down Vektor.”

“The Solntsevkaya Bratva is a nasty group that I’m not keen to trust. I think I’ll pass on your offer,” Berg said.

“It’s non-negotiable. They’re your only hope of pulling this off and getting your people out alive. One hundred and fifty miles is a long trip. A very unpredictable trip without local support. I can’t afford to take the chance. Either you put me in touch with my
bratva
contact, or I’m not saying another word. And you still need my help. I haven’t told you half of what you’ll need to know about Vektor.”

“How much money do you think it will take?” Berg said.

“Several million U.S. dollars. Maybe more,” Reznikov said.

Petrovich whistled. He couldn’t wait to hear Berg’s response to this. Maybe Reznikov was smarter than he acted. He certainly hadn’t expected this wrinkle in their plan, but oddly enough, it made sense. Trust would be a major issue, but enough money could always solidify temporary loyalty in organizations like these. He’d seen more than his share of deals sealed over large payoffs that trumped long-standing personal disagreements. The Serbians under Milosevic had perfected the concept of purchasing loyalty. The trick to buying loyalty always remained the same. Make your first offer higher than expected, and be prepared to pay out more at the last minute. Never start out with a lowball offer, or you’re likely find yourself standing at the end of a steel barrel…sold out to a competitor willing to pay more. He’d make sure to speak with Sanderson at length about the payment amount, reinforcing its importance to the mission. Sanderson might have to shell out some of his own cash to keep the team out of trouble.

“That sounds like a lot of money. I’m not sure how I’m going to come up with several million dollars for an operation that never happened,” Berg said.

“Oh, give me a break. One of your new Tomahawk missiles would cost you close to one million dollars, and I think you’d need to use three or four to make absolutely certain that the building was obliterated. Even then, you’d never know. The beauty here is that the Russians will probably blame the Israelis, especially if you take out the Iranians. Several million dollars is a bargain! I can get this started immediately. All I need is access to a cell phone.”

“That’s not going to happen. No outside contact is allowed,” Berg said.

“I’m not asking to keep the phone here. I just need periodic access, to make sure the relationship is going smoothly. No cell phone, no deal. Good luck trying to destroy a P4 containment building with Semtex. I hope you can rent a dump truck in Novosibirsk, because that’s how much explosives you’ll need…unless I get what I want.”

“I’ll give you limited, strictly monitored satellite phone access. Five calls. One to establish contact. One to negotiate the deal. Three to confirm whatever it is that you feel the need to confirm. I will personally oversee the calls, along with several translators. If anything is screwy, I’ll bury you myself. No questions asked. Does this sound fair to you?”

Petrovich was glad to hear that Berg wouldn’t agree to the use of a cell phone. He figured they had some kind of scrambling device or way to reroute calls from the compound, but computer hackers could work miracles these days, as he had witnessed firsthand a few weeks ago. There was no reason to assume that Russian hackers couldn’t do the same thing. Satellite communication was the safest method available. The radio waves couldn’t be intercepted without sophisticated land or space-based SIGINT (Signals Intelligence) technology, which, in the case of Reznikov’s limited use, would be like finding a needle in a haystack without looking.

“Yes. Five calls will be sufficient. The final call will be made right before I give you the most important piece of information, so don’t think of playing any games,” Reznikov said.

“How important?” Berg said.

“They won’t need it until right before the attack on the facility. I will tell you how to destroy the bioweapons laboratory without using explosives. Very easy. Very complete.”