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The younger generations liked him.Women liked him.But Pushkin’s people and Lagunov’s people and Krupin’s people were united in their hatred of him.Making meaningful change when his peers hampered him at every opportunity wasn’t easy, but he was trying.
“Yes, I watch the news.”Darya shrugged.“Four years ago, I’d have said that Puskin was a wannabe communist keen to maintain his grip on power, but he also had health issues.”
That seemed to surprise everyone else.
“What health issues?”Quinn asked.
“Blocked arteries.Too much salo.He had an operation to fix the problem, but I doubt he changed his diet.”
Ah, salo.The little chunks of salted pork fat Russians were so fond of snacking on, often chased with vodka.By birth, I was half-Russian and half-English, and although British cuisine was nothing to write home about—jellied eels, anyone?—I was glad I’d grown up eating beans on toast and fish and chips rather than fish soup and dumplings.
“Pushkin always was set in his ways,” Quinn said.“Big on Russian culture and history, and resistant to change until the sanctions got too much to bear.But he’s indicated no desire to run for a government position again.In fact, he’s more or less disappeared from public life in favour of spending time with his family.”
“So Anton Stepanov is still the more likely candidate for the theft of the Marshmallow,” I concluded.
I’d been reading up on Russian politics, and Stepanov had been tapped by Lagunov to become Minister of Defence.Markovich had dumped Stepanov out on his arse.
“The Marshmallow?”Naz asked.
“The science project.Who else do we have here with a Stepanov connection?”
We ran down the list provided by the watchers, and when I read out the fifth name, Sergey Novak, Darya spoke up.
“Nobody calls him Sergey.He’s Blok Novak.”
The nickname fit.He was a fireplug of a man, as wide as he was high with the bulk coming mostly from muscle by the look of it.His dark hair was thinning on top, but I suspected most of it had fallen through his head and come out in his eyebrows, which were impressively bushy.In the picture we had, he was grinning, and his dimples were big enough to hide M&Ms in.
Now Quinn chimed in.“There’s a name from the past.When Anton Stepanov was mayor of Moscow, Blok Novak worked with his right-hand man.What was that guy’s name?”
Naz supplied the answer.“Kobylkin.Semyon Kobylkin.But he died in a hunting ‘accident’”—Naz used air quotes around the word—“and got replaced by…”
Ooh, I knew this one.“Yuma Loslov.”
“That’s right.”
“We have a file on him, and there’s no mention of Blok Novak.Doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection, though.”
“Stepanov likes to compartmentalise.It’s why nobody’s been able to pin anything on him in the past.Apart from a small core team, he outsources the dirty work, and none of his minions ever see the full picture.”
I went through the rest of the names on the list, but nobody was aware of any specific connection to Stepanov.Right now, Novak seemed to be the most likely candidate, and he was simply noted as an attaché, which covered a multitude of sins.
“Let’s focus on Novak first.We need to know where he lives, what he does in his spare time, and who he associates with.”I checked my watch—we were closing in on one a.m.“Assuming he’s planning to work tomorrow, the watchers will give us a heads-up when he arrives at the consulate.And while we’re waiting, we can dig into his background.I’ll have the cyber team in Virginia get started overnight.”Some of those guys were practically nocturnal.“When we locate him, we can start surveillance.”
“Want me to arrange a team for that?”Vance asked.
“No, I actually have a different project for you and Hallie.The Marshmallow went missing from Sandy Peake Defense Research Laboratory, and everyone assumed the inside person was Ottie Marquette.But recent events are leading us to question that belief.And if it wasn’t her, then who was it?Somebody else working there betrayed the US, either for ideals or for money, and we need to find out who.”
“Any leads so far?”
“Ottie was involved with one of her colleagues, although he didn’t work on the same project.Plus there’s a materials engineer with a gambling problem who could have sold out for money, and a missing software engineer.I’ll send the files over.Use whatever resources you need—the budget for this project is comfortable.”
“Should we work from here?”
“That would be ideal.And it goes without saying—not a whisper of this job can get out.”
“Understood.”
“If you need a bed for the night, feel free to take the guest room at the top of the stairs, but when Bradley arrives, you’ll have to share or take the couch.”
“The couch sounds good to me.”
Darya gave a quiet laugh, and I hoped that maybe she was thawing a little.
“We’ll catch up at eight tomorrow.Let’s get some sleep.”