A Raging Storm

“We could kidnap him. We could torture him.”

“And the world would condemn me. They would demand his release.”

“If you kill him, the world will also know, will it not?”

“Not if I give them a patsy.”

“But who?”

Barkovsky said, “His guests — the FBI Agent who was on the BBC. And the mystery man from the CIA. Let them appear to kill him and the world will blame them and the United States.”

“And the gold?”

“We will keep searching. What is important now is to stop the CIA from helping Petrov. Send word to London. We want Petrov killed and we want it to appear that the Americans did it.”

Barkovsky raised his wineglass and tipped it against Solokov’s. “To the success of the scheduled tasks!” he said. It was one of the first toasts that both men learned after they joined the Komsomol, the young Communist league. “A bullet in Petrov’s head,” Barkovsky said, raising his glass for a second toast. “And a pistol left in the hands of the Americans.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

London, England

’m filing a formal complaint against you as soon as we get to the Marriott,” Showers said. “I no longer wish to work with you.”

“I understand why you’re upset,” Storm said in an understanding voice. “I would be furious, too. But you’ll be wasting your time if you complain to your supervisors. Trust me, it will be you who will be called home to Washington.”

“Trust you?” Showers said. “That’s a joke. And what makes you so smug that you think I’d be called home? They sent me here to solve the murder of a U.S. senator.”

“You don’t want to complain. This came from the top.”

“The top of what?”

“The White House.”

“Then tell me what you and Jones are doing, so we can work together. You owe me that much.”

“It’s above your pay grade.”

Showers took a deep breath and said, “At this moment, I would love to shoot you.”

He stopped in front of the Marriott.

“How about a Taser?” he said. “If it really makes you feel better.”

“Just go crawl into whatever hole you’re sleeping in in London,” she said. “I wish I’d never met you.”

Storm actually felt sorry when she slammed the car door and disappeared inside.

When he reached his room at the bed-and-breakfast, he removed the false fingerprints that he had applied earlier that morning. He had used his computer to download a copy of someone else’s prints from the database at Langley and had copied them onto the flesh-like material that he’d been given from the CIA’s science wizards. When Petrov’s chief of security, Antonija Nad, checked the shot glass, she would discover the identity of someone else — someone she already knew.

Herself.

His cell phone rang.

“Someone’s been in my room,” Showers said, in an exasperated voice. “While we were with Petrov. I thought you should know in case someone followed you and searched your room too.”

“Thanks for caring enough to call,” he said.

“I told you, I play by the rules,” she said. “Even if you don’t.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“The Marriott lobby. I assume they bugged my room. I didn’t bring anything with me to check. Since you’re a private eye and part-time spook, I thought you could come over and remove them. Either that or I’ve got to call in a team from the embassy.”

“I’m coming over.”

Storm grabbed his backpack and made the five-minute walk to the hotel. He waved her out of the lobby onto the street.

“Let’s walk,” he said. “It will be safer.”

For fifteen minutes, they crossed through a series of streets, often doubling back and then going down a different route. When they were convinced they were safe, he asked, “How do you know someone was in your room?”

“I left papers on the desk in a loose-leaf binder. They were FBI press releases about the senator’s murder. I put a penny on page six.”

It was an old trick. When the intruder picked up the binder, the penny fell to the floor. Even if he spotted it, there was no way for him to know what page it had fallen from.

“Are you certain the maid didn’t move the papers?” he asked.

“Haven’t you insulted me enough today?” she said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been thinking while we were walking,” she said. “Should we clear it of bugs or use it to misdirect them? Whoever ‘them’ is.”

He was impressed. She was thinking more like an intelligence officer than a cop.

He saw they were passing by a pub. “Let’s go inside and get a drink. It’s been a very long day. I’ll pay.”

“Do you really think buying me a drink is going to make me feel better about what you did today? About cutting me out and going behind my back?”

“A couple drinks might be the only things that do help,” he said. “Besides, I’m hungry and thirsty. C’mon. What happened wasn’t personal. If there’d been a better way to handle it, I would’ve.”

“Just one drink,” she said with a sigh. “And only because I could use it.”