Malenkov’s head tipped slightly to one side. “Dear God, tell me you haven’t lost track of him.”
Again, no reply.
“And you’re wondering if I know where he is?”
“Do you?”
The visitor smiled. “This is the kind of thing that makes me glad I’ve gone private, Gennady. If the man spooked and went to the Americans…it would be a disaster.”
“Indeed. We wouldallbe affected.”
Malenkov knew, but did not concede, that it was a valid point. Klaus’s financial sleight of hand went back years, and he himself had used the Swiss on dozens of occasions, both personally and for his SSD intelligence work. Klaus had something on them all.
“We don’t know exactly where he is,” Vasin admitted. “The team in Tangier got sloppy. But we will pick him up soon.”
“I am imagining how you will explain that to Yermilov.”
“That is my concern. Oddly enough, a few of your men were recently spotted in Tangier. One might suspect that you, too, are worried about his whereabouts.”
Malenkov leaned back and laced his hands behind his head. “I’ve had dealings with Klaus. And yes, I have a few men in Tangier.”
“For what reason?”
Malenkov didn’t respond.
Vasin smiled, fissures creasing little-used regions of his face. “Now I am imagining howyouwill explainthatto Yermilov.”
Malenkov didn’t take the bait. “Then perhaps we have a shared problem. I propose we combine our efforts in Tangier.”
A cautious nod. “I see no harm in it. I will send you what information we have.”
“I will do the same. And when one of us finds him and does what needs to be done, the other will owe him a favor.”
“Agreed…but only because I know my people will prevail. How long will you be staying in Russia?” Vasin asked, clearly tired of fencing.
The question, of course, was one to which he would already have the answer. A flight to Portugal that evening, a week at his seaside villa outside Porto. All had been on Malenkov’s books for weeks, easy pickings for the head of the GRU.
He replied by asking, “Are we done here?”
“For now. But know that I will relay to the president that you deny any hand in this air crash.”
“Please do.” Malenkov stood and turned on a heel. He left without another word. The blond secretary didn’t even look up as he passed, her eyes frozen on her keyboard.
Minutes later, he passed through the security station and out the building’s front entrance. All things considered, Malenkov was pleased. The cigarette had been a nice touch. Obviously antagonistic, a middle finger to an old enemy. It had angered Vasin. Distracted him. The man would go to the president and give his report. Tell Yermilov that his former SSD chief swore to have no knowledge whatsoever of an air crash in Bodrum. Nor any idea where Gunther Klaus was. He would attest that Malenkov’s departure to the Iberian coast was imminent.
His face creased into a thin smile.
The meeting had gone precisely as planned.
15
CIA Safe House
Bodrum, Turkey
0805 Local Time
The safe house wasn’t perfect. But then, Clark had never seen one that was.
