Black Rose (16 page)

CHAPTER 41

The fresh green of approaching spring dusted the manicured garden beds of the Bois de Boulogne. Valentina Antipov loved the park, though she thought that calling the Bois de Boulogne a park was like calling the Mona Lisa a pretty picture. She ran here early in the morning every day, unless prevented by her assignment to Gutenberg. The spacious grounds in the west of Paris were a reminder that life was about more than the unpleasant necessities of her job.

Valentina only vaguely remembered a time before she'd begun training to be a spy. It had started when she was five years old, when her mother took her to a gray building on the outskirts of Moscow and left her in the care of a man wearing the uniform of a captain in the KGB. Captain Vysotsky became the substitute for a father she had never known. A stern father, a demanding father, but a father who was stern and demanding was better than none at all. She saw her mother infrequently, sometimes not for a months. When Valentina asked about her, Vysotsky would say that her mother was a hero and was serving the needs of the Motherland.

"You can see how important it is, can't you, Valentina? Your mother works to keep us all safe and protect us from our enemies. That's why she can't be here as much as you'd like."

"It's good that she's a hero," Valentina had said, "but I wish she could spend more time with me."

Valentina had been nine at the time. The memory was burned into her mind. A day later (or was it two or three, she couldn't quite remember), Captain Vysotsky told her that her mother was dead, killed in the line of duty by the treacherous agents of the West.

Years later Valentina found out that the truth was somewhat different. Sofia Antipov had gotten drunk and lost control of her car on an icy mountain road in the Swiss Alps. The car had smashed through the guard rail and plunged over a thousand feet until it shattered on the unforgiving boulders far below.

Valentina's intelligence and motor skills were well above average, a fact that did not escape her teachers' attention. When she reached the age of fourteen she was singled out for specialized training in the art of killing. By the time she was twenty-two, she was expert in all the tools of her trade. Along with martial arts, knowledge of poisons and use of the garrotte, Valentina was gifted with skill in weapons from the present and the past. She could use a Zulu spear or a samurai katana as easily as a Makarov pistol.

A little more than twenty years after her mother's death, Vysotsky had risen to the rank of general and Valentina had been molded into a perfect killing machine.

Morning sun lit the magnificent pavillion of Napoleon III as she ran past. The last French Emperor would have been shocked to see that his pavilion had been converted to a hotel and restaurant. She kept running until she came to the end of the Grand Cascade at the
Lac Inferieur
, the largest lake in the park. Water ran everywhere in the Bois, flowing through artful channels into lakes and ponds and fountains. Valentina slowed her pace to a jog and then to a walk. She found an empty bench facing the lake and sat, letting her body cool. She thought about what the day would bring. She had to meet with her handler later, at a bistro in Montmarte.

Lucien is getting pushy,
she thought.

She watched a pair of joggers go by on the path.

Why has he called for another meeting? It's bad tradecraft. I don't like the way he undresses me with his eyes. Lots of men do that and I don't mind, but with him it's different.

For a moment she entertained the thought of placing something unpleasant in Lucien's espresso and watching him die. But of course she couldn't do that unless it became necessary. Lucien was getting careless. She decided to let Alexei know about it.

Alexei Vysotsky was the closest thing to a father that Valentina had ever known. She wasn't sure how to describe her feelings for him. It was probably love, although Valentina wasn't certain what love actually was. Whatever it was, her feeling for Vysotsky was mixed with deep resentment and grudging admiration for the unrelenting discipline he had imposed upon her over the years.

Valentina was proud of her skills. She knew she was one of the stars in Vysotsky's elite group of high level agents. It was unusual for her to be asked to seduce someone and maintain a relationship with them. There were plenty of agents available for that, men and women both, depending on the sexual preference of the target. Her primary role was as an assassin. The fact that Vysotsky had assigned her to Gutenberg told her that sooner or later she'd be ordered to eliminate him. 

She hoped it was sooner. Gutenberg was becoming tiresome. Besides, he was a lousy lover. Lucien, on the other hand, was probably quite adept in bed, but Valentina would sooner sleep with a snake than with him.

She rose and started back for her apartment at an easy walk. There was time to go home, shower and change before her meeting. As she walked she was aware of everything in her environment, her paranoia high. That man with an umbrella could as easily be her counterpart from an enemy agency. The woman with a baby carriage might have a gun under those blankets.

Even though Valentina knew that the man with the umbrella was probably anticipating a spring shower or that the baby carriage contained nothing more menacing than a sleeping infant, she remained alert. She was still alive because she never dropped her vigilance.

It was a condition of her occupation.

She passed a couple strolling with their two children. The woman was laughing. She looked happy. The man said something and smiled.

I wonder what it would be like to have a family.

CHAPTER 42

Selena sat in shock, staring at the file in her hands. Elizabeth waited, watching her.

After a long pause, Selena said, "You're sure this is authentic?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said.

"I have a sister who is a Russian agent, an assassin?"

"Half sister. Yes. She works for General Vysotsky."

Nick had enough sense to keep silent.

"I don't believe this. I can't believe it."

"I'm sorry, Selena," Elizabeth said. "I wish it weren't true."

"How could he? How could my father sleep with a Russian whore?"

"It's an old trick," Elizabeth said. "The KGB used sex to compromise a target all the time. Moscow Center was better than anyone at exploiting human weakness. It would have taken a saint to resist. Your father didn't know she was a Russian agent until it was too late. Remember, he was assigned to West Berlin. Every time he crossed into East Germany he risked his life. He would have been threatened with arrest and execution. It doesn't excuse him, but you can understand how much pressure he was under."

"You're right, it doesn't excuse him."

"If you read the file carefully, you'll see that there's no conclusion your father betrayed his country."

"What about the meetings with Russian agents? What about the bank accounts?"

"On the surface that looks bad," Elizabeth said. "But all of it could easily have been part of his assignment. Why would the Russians kill him if they thought he was giving them good intelligence? It's much more likely they discovered he was reporting back to Langley. There were people on the seventh floor who knew what was going on. One of them was Aldrich Ames. He sold out a lot of our agents before he was caught. Your father may have been one of them."

"Then why doesn't it say so in the file?" Selena asked.

"The file was closed in nineteen eighty-seven," Elizabeth said. "Ames was still there. He would have seen it as an opportunity to deflect suspicion away from him."

"We'll never know, will we?" Selena said. There was bitterness in her voice.

"I'd like to talk with Hood about this," Elizabeth said. "He was there at the same time as your father and Ames. He might know something that would cast a little more light."

"It would make a difference to know that he wasn't a traitor. Nothing will change the fact that he cheated on my mother."

"No."

"This woman, Valentina. Where is she now?"

This woman, not my sister,
Elizabeth thought.

"I don't know. All we know is that she works under Vysotsky. Stephanie will try and find out more."

Selena stood and dropped the file on Harker's desk. She walked out. They heard the door to the downstairs level slam behind her.

"She's pissed," Nick said.

"Your powers of observation are astounding," Elizabeth said. "I never would have guessed."

"Why did you tell her about her sister?"

"I thought about it and I decided it's too important for Selena. Even if it wounds her to learn that her father was unfaithful, now she knows she has some family left in the world."

"A Russian assassin," Nick said.

"Yes, but still family. She deserved to know."

"I don't think Selena is looking forward to the family reunion."

"It's unlikely that they'll ever meet," Elizabeth said.

"You don't know Selena like I do, Director. Don't count on it," Nick said. He got up off the couch. "I'd better go see how she's doing."

He went down the spiral staircase to the lower level and heard pistol fire coming from the range. Selena stood at one of the stations, bent forward, pistol straight out in front of her, firing at a man sized target fifty feet away.

Ronnie had worked on her Sig 229 to lighten the trigger pull. He'd brought the pull down from four plus pounds to just a touch under three. It made rapid fire easier. Nick watched Selena empty a twelve round magazine in seconds. She wasn't trying for a perfect score, she was shooting for combat accuracy. All except one of the twelve rounds were somewhere in the silhouette's upper body. Most were clustered near the center of the chest.

The slide locked back on her pistol. Selena ejected the empty magazine and laid the gun down in front of her. She saw Nick and took off her shooting glasses and ear protectors.

"He's dead," Nick said. "Nice shooting."

"What am I going to do, Nick?"

"About what?"

"You know what. My father's bastard. My sister."

"I don't know if bastard is quite the right word," Nick said.

"Don't try to make me feel better with your bullshit humor."

"You're right, I'm sorry. It's an old habit when I'm not sure what to say."

"Then don't say anything."

Selena went over to a bench by the wall and sat down. Nick sat beside her.

She looked out the floor. "I thought I didn't have any family left after uncle William died. Now I find out I have a half sister who's a Russian assassin. How the hell do I deal with that?"

"I don't know. I guess it depends on what it means to you. Finding out that you have a sister."

"I want to hate her, but I can't. It's not her fault my father couldn't keep it in his pants."

"You heard what Harker said. Your father was only human. Everybody's got a weak spot and the KGB was really good at setting people up."

"He should have resisted."

"Yeah, but he didn't."

"I wonder if my mother knew that he had an affair."

"I doubt it," Nick said. "Your father was good at concealing what he did and who he was."

"She must've known he worked for the agency."

"She probably did but that would've been about all she knew. He wouldn't have talked about his work."

"What am I going to do?" Selena said again. "I want to know more about her but I can't very well call her up and introduce myself. It's not like she's working in a regular job somewhere."

Nick draped his arm around her shoulders.

"It's complicated, isn't it? Stephanie will find out whatever she can. I think you have to be careful here."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm probably not the best person to talk to about this," Nick said. "My father was a drunk, my mother allowed herself to be abused and my sister is a bitch. I don't have fond memories of family."

"What's your point?"

"Just because she's your half-sister doesn't mean she's family. She's a stranger and she's an enemy. People usually define family by blood ties but I don't see it that way. I think family are the people you can rely on, the people you know who will back you up when you need it. People who can rely on you."

"She's still my sister."

"Yes, she is, but she doesn't know that."

"It could make a difference if she did," Selena said.

"It could. Meanwhile I've got an idea."

Selena looked at him. "What?"

"Let's go get one of those Long Island iced teas you like."

CHAPTER 43

The George V in the heart of Paris had been a favorite hotel of the rich for decades. It was where Gutenberg always stayed when he was in town. He was getting dressed in his room when his encrypted phone signaled a call from Appo Thorvaldson, one of AEON's seven directors.

"Appo. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Johannes, but I'm afraid you are not."

"What do you mean?"

"We have a security breach. Your emails are being intercepted by an outside party."

"What? That's impossible."

"I have a man working for me who takes care of all my electronic security. He monitors everything that comes into my computer. He discovered an anomaly in your last email."

Gutenberg looked at his watch. He was meeting Valentina for dinner.

"Go on."

"Someone has put a tracking program on your computer that allows them to monitor all of your communications."

"You're certain."

"Of course, or I wouldn't bother you."

"How would this be done?" Gutenberg asked. "How could someone get through my firewalls and plant their program?"

"Our security protocols make it unlikely it was done over the Internet. It had to be done by someone with direct access to your computer."

Gutenberg flushed with anger. He kept his laptop was with him at all times. There was only one other person who could have gotten to it.

Valentina. She has betrayed me.

"We have to deal with this, Johannes."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it. I think I know who is responsible. Where are the messages going?"

"We don't know yet. If you send me a long message, we'll have time to trace the signal back to whoever is spying on you."

"Perhaps we can turn this to our advantage," Gutenberg said.

"In what way, Johannes?"

"They don't know we've discovered them. Let me think about it."

"When will you send the message?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll alert you when I'm ready to do it. And now, I'm going to be late for a dinner engagement."

"Ah, yes, the lovely Valentina. You are fortunate to have such a beautiful mistress."

"I've been growing tired of her. I think it may be time for a change."

"Oh? Do you think she might consider a new liaison?"

"With you?"

"Why not? I don't mind slightly used goods."

Gutenberg thought about what he was going to do when he talked to Valentina about the computer.

"I don't think you'll want to pursue that, my friend."

He ended the call.

In a room three doors down, an SVR technician had been listening to the conversation. He turned off the recorder and took off his headphones. Gutenberg had made a mistake common to men who thought they were invulnerable, the mistake of predictability. He always stayed at the George V when he was in Paris. It had been a simple matter to determine when he would arrive at the hotel and equally simple to put listening devices in his rooms.

The program installed on Gutenberg's computer had been discovered. The technician called the number he'd been given in case there was a problem. Across town, Valentina's handler picked up his phone.