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"Yes." Primakov stuck out his hand for the envelope.
"Not until I see my man."
Primakov motioned to his men, and they opened the back door of the first car. The bodyguard had to help Cummins out of the sedan. He was incredibly thin, but it was him. Stansfield looked over his shoulder and snapped his fingers. One of his bodyguards took off at a trot to help with the transfer.
"The package."
Stansfield handed it to Primakov, who immediately tore it open. He flipped through the twenty-odd pages and asked, "And how do I know this isn't all made up?"
"Check it yourself. The access codes are all there. The money is still in the accounts, although trust me, I thought about using it for a few of our more creative programs."
Primakov considered that for a moment. He finally managed to say, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Stansfield said as he stood. "Just do me a favor, Yevgeny. Let's stick to the old rules. You stay away from my guys, and I'll stay away from yours."
Stansfield walked away with his other bodyguard close behind. He stopped at the first sedan to check on the Schnoz, and then got into the backseat of the second car. The bodyguard closed the door and then went around the other side and climbed in the backseat. As soon as they were out of the park the bodyguard took off his sunglasses and asked, "Did he buy it, sir?"
Stansfield looked at over at Mitch Rapp and said, "One hundred percent."
Rapp looked out the window, thinking that Hurley had truly lived up to his reputation as the biggest SOB on the block. It had been pure evil genius to pay Ivanov's money back into his accounts and have Shvets inform on him. "So what's going to happen to Ivanov?"
Stansfield looked down and straightened his tie. "I think Mikhail Ivanov is going to spend the next few months being thoroughly interrogated by the SVR's goon squad."
"And then what?"
"He won't be able to deny the money, will he?"
"No."
Stansfield nodded. "You're a smart kid. Fill in the blanks."
"Couldn't happen to a nicer guy." Rapp shrugged as if he didn't care. "What about Sayyed?"
"Some questions are better off not asked."
Rapp frowned. He didn't like not knowing.
"Listen," Stansfield said, "I can't release a guy like Sayyed. He'll just go back and torture more of our people." Stansfield shook his head. "The man will get what he deserves."
"Sir, I hope you know I don't give a crap what happens to him."
"Good."
"What about Shvets?"
"Shvets will be fine as long as he continues to cooperate. In a few years we'll cut him loose and let him start a life of his own."
They drove in silence for a while, and then Rapp finally asked, "Sir, why did you want me to come along for this? Being your bodyguard is not exactly my area of expertise."
Stansfield had been wondering when the rookie was going to get around to asking the question. He grinned to himself and asked Rapp, "You think Stan Hurley is a son of a bitch?"
"The biggest one I've ever met, sir."
Stansfield laughed. "Now you know he's not big on compliments?"
Rapp nodded.
"Well, he had some pretty amazing things to say about you when you got back from Beirut. Ridley as well. Irene has been telling me for close to two years that she thought you might have the goods, and I guess you proved to all of us last week that you most certainly do."
