Page 52 of Code Red


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“I communicate with him either by phone or email. Not in person.”

Semenov’s lips curled into something hinting at a smile. “Okay. Then why don’t you tell me what Losa is prepared to offer me?”

It was clear that he didn’t care. He was on a fishing expedition and the sudden changes in subject were designed to keep his opponent off balance.

“Mr. Losa is a businessman who’s been involved in a number of partnerships over the years. If you look into it, you’ll find that his conduct in them was exemplary, and all were extremely successful.”

“What is he offering?” Semenov repeated.

“He’s analyzed the captagon formulation that I assume you’re responsible for—”

“And?”

“And he’s concluded that it is indeed a very appealing and addictive drug. He also concedes that he can’t manufacture it at a cost that would make it profitable. What hecando is provide you with a European distribution network that’s much more reliable than the one you’ve put in place. With all due respect, your first attempt at a sizable shipment ended in disaster. Not only was it captured, but now it’s associated with terrorism. That all could have been avoided had Mr. Losa been involved.”

“I’m not convinced he wasn’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

“How can I be sure that he wasn’t the one who informed the Italian authorities?”

“I’d be happy to ask him that question, but it’s not the kind of information that I typically have access to.”

“I wonder.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every indication suggests that you play a key role in his organization. And if that’s the case, you know a great deal about it. Convenient, because I want to know everything about him and his worldwide business dealings.”

“You’re mistaken. And even if I were better informed, betraying Mr. Losa is a death sentence.”

“As will be refusing my request.”

“Then I find myself in a difficult position.”

Semenov reached into a desk drawer and retrieved a baggie full of white pills. “Samples of our latest formulation. Much more advanced than even the ones sent to Italy. My people have added a physical withdrawal component more intense than what opium addicts experience. Combined with the powerful psychological addiction, it’s broken even the most dedicated resisters. After just a month of continuous administration, there’s nothing users won’t do to get their fix. Denounce Allah. Whore themselves. Kill. Perhaps you’d like to try it?”

“You don’t make it sound very appealing.”

“Are you sure? I imagine my people would be very interested in adding a Canadian lawyer to their research. Thus far, our subjects have been somewhat racially and culturally homogeneous.”

“What is it you want, sir? Information on my employer? You’ve made that clear. But to what end?”

“What I want is simple. I want everything. Ownership of Losa’s network in Europe, but more important, his operations in Latin America and the United States.”

“Ownership? That’s an interesting word choice.”

“It’s the one I intended.”

“I see.”

“Really? What is it you see, Matthieu?”

“We originally assumed that the captagon was coming out of what’s left of the Syrian pharmaceutical industry. That they’d somehow found a way to manufacture it cheaply and wanted to use the profits to support the government.”

“But you no longer believe that’s the case?”

Rapp shook his head. “No. I believe that this is a purely Russian operation, and you can’t produce your captagon formulation any cheaper than Mr. Losa could. This isn’t about profit. It’s about waging war against the West.”

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