State Of The Union

For the most part, the bulk of the dossier’s contents would soon be immaterial, but there were still ways in which they could be very damaging. The file needed to be buried for good and Alexandra Ivanova along with it, but until she was, Stavropol had no choice but to deal with her. “Why are we talking?” he asked.

It was time for Alexandra to make her case. “We each have something the other wants.”

Stavropol laughed. “What could you possibly have that I would want?”

She wasted no time in getting to the point. “An American operative on Russian soil with a tactical nuclear weapon. Surely, you would like to have this man and his weapon in your custody.”

There were several moments of strained silence as Stavropol thought it over. Though he was loathe to negotiate with her, it seemed that she alone had the power to deliver him the prize that had eluded them on the Baltic and caused the loss of two of their patrol boats-an American agent who had smuggled a nuclear weapon into their country. He didn’t trust Alexandra Ivanova one bit, but she was dangling a very attractive carrot that was hard to resist.

Ever the tactician, Stavropol kept talking as his mind worked to develop a plan to gain the upper hand. “You said we each had something the other wanted. What is it you desire from me?”

Alexandra stuck to the script, just as Harvath had laid it out for her. “First, forgiveness. Though my father’s actions were wrong, his motivations were correct. He placed his country above all else and for that I want his name cleared. He is to get a proper burial with full recognition for his loyalty and years of service to Mother Russia.”

“What else?”

“Next, I want your personal guarantee, in writing, that I will be publicly recognized for my cooperation and loyalty.”

“That’s all?” asked Stavropol.

“No, that’s not all. In addition, I want a promotion within the SVR, to at least deputy director, complete with commensurate pay grade, a new apartment, and a new automobile.”

“Capitalism rears its ugly head at last.”

“No, it has not,” replied Alexandra. “While I support our country’s long overdue return to Communism, I also believe that outstanding service to the State should be rewarded. But if you do not agree with me, I’d be happy to release Agent Harvath and his nuclear weapon and let you try to retake him before the Americans have executed whatever it is they are planning.”

This time Stavropol didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely not,” he replied. If Ivanova really was prepared to deliver on her offer, Stavropol couldn’t afford to let her go. “Where are you?”

“Archangel city,” she replied.

Stavropol told her to hold, while he cupped the mouthpiece and consulted one of the men standing next to him. There was no time for him to go to her. She would have to come to him. He gave her a time and directions to a location just outside the seaside village of Tova, about 150 kilometers up the coast from Archangel City, and then unceremoniously terminated the connection.

Before Alexandra could power down her cell phone and change out Popov’s SIM card, Harvath already had his atlas out and was speeding the Jeep Cherokee towards their destination. They would have to hurry. The last thing he wanted to do was to give Stavropol enough time to set up an ambush.

Chapter 45

A winter storm, accompanied by a brutal cold front, was in full effect when Scot and Alexandra dropped the rest of the team and then pulled into a desolate farmer’s field bordered on all sides by trees on the outskirts of Tova.

As the Jeep’s wipers fought to keep up with the heavily falling snow, Harvath alternated between staring at the temperature reading, which was now down to minus fifteen degrees Celsius, and staring out the windshield toward the far edge of the field.

When the appointed time arrived, he heard the staccatowhump, whump, whump of helicopter rotor blades cleaving the frigid air. The low cloud cover and inclement weather made it impossible to see the craft as it circled above them and then moved off to the far edge of the field where it hovered still out of view.

Harvath assumed the helicopter was equipped with forward-looking infrared, also known as FLIR, and was right now scanning the perimeter of the landing zone. He hoped that they were only using first generation technology because if it was anything better than that, they were quite literally going to be dead.