Page 70 of Denied Access (Mitch Rapp #24)
R APP had to hand it to his mentor.
Hurley never thought small.
“A war in Europe. Is that all?”
Hurley shot him a surly look. “I know this thing with Greta is hitting you hard, but you’re not the only one who’s pissed. Ohlmeyer was my close friend for more than twenty years. In this business, that’s saying something.”
Rapp wanted to respond with an equally sharp comment about the maelstrom he’d been forced to weather with Greta.
In what was a surprise to no one who knew the Swiss girl, the woman he loved had been less than enthused with his decision to leave her with strangers while in the depths of grief.
It hadn’t helped that he was at a loss to explain why he was leaving or how it would eliminate the ongoing threat to her life.
Instead, he’d asked her to trust him, given her his cell number, kissed her forehead, and left for the airport.
He wanted to hold the crushed look on Greta’s face against Hurley, but he knew that wasn’t fair.
He’d chosen this life, just as he’d chosen to involve her in it.
Decisions had consequences.
“You said something about an update. What did Volkov learn?”
Hurley’s pinched features slowly relaxed as he seemed to recognize Rapp’s olive branch.
“I’ve got to give that Russian son of a bitch credit.
Once we came to an agreement on the financials, he was absolutely fearless.
In the space of a couple of hours, he bumped three different SVR officers, including the Vienna resident. ”
“How’d that go?”
Hurley shrugged. “Some of the meetings were better than others, but he got intel from everyone. Taken in sum, his reporting helped us understand at least directionally what Petrov is thinking.”
“Why would his former colleagues talk to Volkov? He’s a traitor and a defector.”
“That’s precisely why. They knew Volkov was a direct conduit to us.
Don’t get me wrong, their organization might have a new name, but the SVR officers in Austria are the same KGB operatives I went head-to-head with during the Cold War.
But they’re also different. Or at least have chosen to be different.
During the attempted coup against Gorbachev, they could have sided with the hard-liners in favor of the status quo.
They didn’t. Instead, they chose their country over the Communist Party. ”
Rapp thought this assessment might be giving the former KGB officers a bit more credit than was due, but he pushed his cynicism aside in favor of asking the most important question. “What gives with Petrov?”
Hurley fished a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Rapp. He took it. Nothing says bury the hatchet like burning a Marlboro Red with the person who’d once wanted to kill you with his bare hands.
“He’s an old man with scores to settle and dwindling time to settle them. Petrov and Stansfield have a beef that extends back to World War Two. Stansfield killed Petrov’s brother.”
“Holy shit.”
“That about sums it up,” Hurley said, exhaling a stream of smoke toward the ceiling.
“But setting their personal vendetta aside, the way the Cold War ended had to have been a slap in the face to Petrov. He spent almost fifty years fighting to advance communism. Then the Soviet Union collapses, and the KGB is disbanded in the space of three months.”
“I get why he hates us,” Rapp said as he lit his own cigarette, “but he’s felt that way for half a century. Why’s he settling old scores now?”
Hurley shrugged. “No one seems to know for sure. My guess is that he saw the negative publicity around the clusterfuck that was Cooke’s death as an opportunity.
An opening to drive a wedge between the United States and Europe while mortally wounding the CIA in the process.
And if his actions brought down his old nemesis, Stansfield, in the process, so much the better. ”
Rapp considered this as he took a massive drag from his cigarette.
He’d dabbled with smokes just to be cool in high school, but as an athlete, he’d never been tempted to pursue the habit in earnest. This particular cigarette, however, had him second-guessing that decision.
The nicotine buzz banished his fatigue and ordered his scattered thoughts.
“I hear what you’re saying,” Rapp said, “but Petrov is one guy. How’s he doing this alone?”
“He’s not. Petrov spent the majority of his KGB career assigned to Department S working as an illegal. This made him a great fit for his final KGB assignment—overseeing Directorate Five.”
“The Vympel units,” Rapp said.
“Exactly, though they were called Vega when the units were still part of the KGB. Anyway, they might have a new name, but their specialty hasn’t changed—wet work.
That’s who we think you encountered in Barcelona and Tunisia.
They’re probably also the ones setting bombs in Latvian bars.
And that shit’s working, by the way. Stansfield said the first Russian military transports have already landed at the air base near Daugavpils.
Anyway, one of the top Vympel assassins is a guy named Ilya Lebedev.
Most Vympel units work in hunter-killer teams, but Lebedev is more of a lone wolf.
Based on a tip from Volkov, we relooked at the CCTV video from Youssef bin Muhammad’s assassination in London.
The shooter was wearing a disguise, but we think it was Lebedev. Take a gander.”
Hurley opened a false bottom in the messenger bag, withdrew a photograph, and set it on the coffee table. “This is from his personnel file. It’s at least fifteen years old, but it’s all we’ve got.”
Rapp picked up the photo and swore. The rest of Lebedev’s features had changed with time, but there was no mistaking his asymmetrical eyes. The assassin’s right eye opened wider than his left.
“I take it you two have already met?” Hurley said.
“A car nearly ran us off the road just short of the turnoff to Ohlmeyer’s estate. Lebedev was behind the wheel.”
“That tracks. He’s Petrov’s operative of choice.”
“I still don’t get how Petrov’s operation is unsanctioned. If the SVR officers Volkov bumped know about it, then surely the director of the FSK does too. What’s his name again?”
“Barannikov.” Hurley ground his cigarette butt into the coffee table before dropping it into his empty water bottle.
Apparently, he wasn’t worried about collecting the apartment’s security deposit.
“I’m not saying he didn’t know about Petrov’s op.
I’m saying he didn’t approve it. Look, there’s no love lost between the FSK and SVR, so some of the reporting Volkov gathered is probably slanted, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Barannikov is just watching to see what happens.
If Petrov is successful, he can claim credit.
If the old guy fails, he gets moved out, and Barannikov has plausible deniability. ”
“I don’t understand. Counting Lebedev, there are at least three operational Vympel teams working for Petrov, maybe four.
That’s way too big of an effort for Barannikov to be able to claim plausible deniability.
Either he knew about Petrov’s operation and authorized it, or Petrov did this without Barannikov’s knowledge, which means that the FSK director is incompetent. Where’s the plausible deniability?”
“Simple. The operational Vympel teams aren’t working for Mother Russia. They’re freelancing.”