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“My so-called father’s name,” Tatiana said, “was used in a previous operation several years earlier, and, as you can see, older articles already existed. Search further and you’ll find arrest records, property records, and a few blurry photos. Rather than come up with a new legend, we piggybacked off the old one.”
The story was entirely plausible. What they didn’t have was a way to verify it. And yet, Sam’s instinct was that they were telling the truth. “Isn’t Rolfe Wernher a German national? Why the complicated game to get him?”
“To start,” she replied, “he’s trying to expand his operation of drugs and firearms into Russia. We have enough of that going on as it is. The last thing we need is more of the same.”
“His gang,” Viktor said, “killed two Russian citizens during a robbery of a jewelry store in Germany.”
“We cultivated our first informant from that case,” Tatiana added. “Durin Kahrs.”
Sam glanced at Remi, saying, “He tried to kill our friends. He’s—”
“Dead,” Tatiana said. “We know. But before his unfortunate run-in with the other end of your weapon, he was . . . How do you say it?” She looked at Viktor.
“Double-crossing?” he said.
“That’s it. Double-crossing Rolfe for money.”
“The courier bag?” Sam said.
“Exactly. When we learned that he’d possibly found it, we approached him and offered double what Rolfe was paying for it. Unfortunately, your friend Zakaria was kidnapped, and we lost the bag.” She turned, nodding toward her partner. “That’s where Viktor’s expertise comes in. He’s worked extensively with Interpol in recovering stolen art. When my agency found out that there was a possibility of the Romanov Ransom actually being found, we brought Viktor on board to pose as my personal bodyguard.”
Sam eyed the man. “Interpol?”
He nodded.
“His connections,” Tatiana said, “allow us access to some less-than-orthodox methods, such as the one we used this afternoon, turning my rank into a commander who has need of a private hangar.”
“Interesting,” Sam said. “I have a friend who did a lot of work with Interpol back when he was in the FBI. Runs a security firm these days.”
“Donovan Archer?” Viktor said.
“You know him?”
“Very well.”
“Then you won’t mind if I verify your story with him?”
44
Viktor didn’t answer Sam right away. He seemed to think about it, then said, “You want to contact Donovan? I don’t mind, but it’s up to Tatiana.”
She made a dismissive gesture. “As long as he doesn’t make any law enforcement inquiries, I have no objections.”
Sam slid his phone across the table to Remi. “See if you can get Donny on a video call.”
Remi found his number in the contacts and called. “Donovan, sorry to wake you.”
“Remi? Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” she said, handing the phone to Sam.
Donovan, his blond hair sticking up on one side, stared back at Sam on the screen. “Fargo. Some reason I have to look at your ugly mug at this hour?”
“Quick question,” Sam said. “Someone here says he knows you. I need to know if I can trust him.”
“Who is it?”
“One second.” Sam turned the camera toward Viktor.
