Spyder Web (34 page)

‘Where is he?’ Long asked the duty officer curtly.

The duty officer knew instantly that Long was not here to exchange pleasantries. ‘In the library, sir. Through there.’

Long moved quickly across the foyer and through the archway that marked the entrance to the library. A fire roared in the mammoth stone hearth, fighting back the chill in the damp air. In an ornately carved wing-back chair sat an old man deeply engrossed in a book. The man didn’t look up from his reading; he simply gestured for Long to take a seat in the adjacent chair.

After a brief moment, Yakushev marked his spot and closed the book, turning his attention toward Long. ‘I don’t know how many times I have read Homer’s Odyssey, and yet I never tire of it. This is an especially good translation. Sir Daniel, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company on such a dreary day?’

‘I want to know about your deep-cover agents in the West, all of them,’ Long demanded.

‘I have given you everything there is to know. You and your predecessors were aware of all operatives under my control.’

Long could feel the folded pages of Barnett’s fax in his suit pocket. ‘Are you absolutely sure of that?’

Yakushev’s cordial manner melted into a scowl. ‘I worked for British Intelligence for over thirty years, inside the Soviet Union. Decades of service that nearly cost me my life on more than one occasion. I cannot believe that you would question my integrity now.’

‘Andrei,’ Long said, trying to smooth Yakushev’s ruffled feathers, ‘you are still considered our most prized asset of the Cold War, and your honor remains intact. What I am questioning is the completeness of your disclosure. Do you recall the files that were recovered from your dacha after it burned to the ground, the ones that the Americans now possess?’

‘Yes, we’ve gone over this material already.’

‘Yes, we have,’ Long said, reiterating the point. ‘You positively identified those named in the files as operatives under your personal direction. We sanitized your confirmations and reported back to the CIA that the files were genuine. Another file has turned up under highly suspicious circumstances.’

Long handed Yakushev the pages of Barnett’s fax. ‘Is this woman one of your agents?’

Yakushev scanned the report and, slowly, the fire of indignation faded from his eyes. After a silence, Long pressed again for an answer. ‘Do you know her?’

‘I know Anya,’ Yakushev admitted nostalgically, ‘and yes, she worked for me.’

‘Then why didn’t you tell us about her?’ Long barely kept the anger out of his voice. ‘We have no report from you of her activities. According to this fax, she’s been in place for almost twenty years.’

‘You were not told because it was not important for you to know,’ Yakushev shot back.

Long couldn’t guess what hold Roe had on Yakushev, but the former spymaster was obviously trying to shield his agent. ‘Tell me about Roe, and why you are so keen to protect her. It’s important.’

‘Please have the recorders turned on, Sir Daniel. Anya’s story is a long one.’

A security officer nodded to Long a few minutes later, indicating that the estate’s tape-recording systems were on. The house cook brought out a tea service for Long and Yakushev before leaving quietly.

Long started the debriefing. ‘Tell me about Anna Mironova.’

Yakushev went into the long story of how he had met the young girl with criminal tendencies during a training exercise; how he took her under his wing, trained her, groomed her for life in the West. Long realized quickly that Yakushev’s relationship with Mironova was far different from the usual bond between agent and controller. Long listened quietly as Yakushev described young Mironova’s evolution into a deep-cover agent. Yakushev drew his narrative to a close with the story of their last meeting, during the attempted Soviet coup, when he had set Mironova free.

‘Why did you hold this information back?’

‘I thought that I had destroyed all records relating to the Cormorant that night and that Anya would be free to live her own life. I have given you every agent who ever worked for me, all but Anya. Anya was different, and more than just an agent to me. She was like me, orphaned in a hostile world, with only her wits to keep her alive. She had the natural talents to make a great spy, and she succeeded only because I sheltered her from the ideological nonsense that they force-fed recruits at the Andropov Institute. Anya was special; she was like a daughter to me. That is why I set her free and why I didn’t tell you about her.’

After many interviews with the former KGB spymaster, Long thought that he had developed an understanding of the man. Yakushev’s strong personal feelings toward Mironova added a new dimension to that understanding. ‘Are you aware of what she is doing now?’

‘No. I have not seen or spoken with her since August of 1991.’ Yakushev thought about the night the coup started; about Anya killing the KGB assassin that had been sent for him. ‘If she followed the news accounts from Moscow during those days, she probably believes that I am dead.’

Long believed that Yakushev was telling him the complete truth. Moscow had been in chaos in the days after the coup. His people spirited Yakushev out of the Soviet Union with a combination of false papers and hefty bribes. Since that time, Yakushev had been a quiet guest of the British people.

‘Sir Daniel, what has aroused your interest in Anya?’

‘It appears that your pupil has become an industrial spy.’

‘A good use of her skills. She’s probably making a handsome living in the private sector, more so than her meager wages as a servant of the Soviet state.’ Yakushev laughed.

‘This isn’t a joke. Mironova is tied up with a British business consultant and suspected dealer of stolen technology named Ian Parnell. The two of them are currently providing services to a certain Chinese intelligence officer who once caused some of your people a bit of trouble.’

Yakushev felt his stomach tighten. ‘Kang Fa?’

‘Yes. Kang is in London right now, working with Parnell and Roe to steal ciphering technology from an American computer corporation.’

Yakushev’s hands clenched the soft leather armrests of his chair. Even though they had never met, Yakushev knew that Kang Fa had been personally responsible for the deaths of several KGB agents over a fifteen-year period. In Moscow Center, Kang was regarded as a ruthless, but effective, agent who completed his operations by eliminating any loose ends. Unless something drastic was done quickly, Anya would be killed once her usefulness to Kang had ended.

‘Would you find it helpful to have an agent inside Kang’s operation?’

‘Roe?’ Long questioned.

‘Yes. I think if I contacted Anya, I could persuade her to assist you. Anya is very intelligent. I’m certain that she has some sense of the gravity of her situation, and a familiar face, at the right time, might be just what she needs to extricate herself.’

Long massaged his graying temples, weighing Yakushev’s offer. Roe would provide the significant edge, but only if she could be trusted. ‘You’ve given me a lot to think about.’

‘Then you’ll consider my offer?’

‘Yes, but that’s not a promise that I’ll act on it.’ Long stood and smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit coat. ‘I’m going to have to mull this one over, but I’ll leave a copy of the case file for you to review. I’d also appreciate it very much if you would check your memory again to see if there’s anyone else you might have neglected to tell me about.’

‘Thank you. I’m certain that you’ll do what’s necessary.’

May 12

Since their arrest, Kilkenny and Grin languished in a cell at the Ann Arbor Police Station. They were neither questioned nor arraigned. They had received a visit from their lawyer, who didn’t have much to say except that she was still waiting for the brief on the charges from the district attorney. Other than their three square meals a day, they were simply ignored.

‘Room service, jailbirds,’ Mosley announced as the guard let him into the cell. ‘I spoke with Kelsey yesterday and she mentioned that you two like this Angelo’s place for breakfast, so I got them to do up something special. Hope you don’t mind.’

Grin and Kilkenny remained on their cots, suspicious of Mosley. ‘The only thing we mind,’ Kilkenny said, ‘is being cooped up in here without any explanation. I hope you brought one of those along with the raisin toast.’

‘All in good time.’ Mosley wasn’t about to be rushed and he dismissed their rude behavior as a product of their circumstances. In their place, he would probably feel the same. ‘Oh, here, Nolan. This is from Kelsey.’

Nolan accepted the gift, wondering how Kelsey had accomplished such a feat from her hospital bed. He smiled as he read the gift card that was taped to the package; it was signed ‘With love, Kelsey.’ He removed the wrapping paper. Inside, he found a copy of Clive Cussler’s latest Dirk Pitt adventure.

‘Way to go, Kelsey,’ Nolan said as he looked at the classic car on the dust jacket.

‘She thought you’d like something good to read during your incarceration.’ Mosley passed around the carryout containers and sat on the cot next to Grin, who brusquely shifted away from him. ‘Hey, I’m a friend.’

‘If you were our friend, you’d get us out of here.’

‘Grin’s right. You, of all people, know that we’re not responsible for those computer crimes.’

‘Yeah! My folks always thought that their hippie son would end up in jail, and here I am. We didn’t do anything.’

‘Gentlemen, this is what we call “a ruse.” Barnett and the FBI came up with it as a way to protect you against any further attacks. My boss does not want a repeat of that incident on the freeway. With the two of you in jail and Kelsey still in the hospital, we think Kang and the others will relax and proceed with their plans.’

‘Do you think you might have let us in on the secret?’ Grin asked sarcastically.

‘I apologize for that, but it was Barnett’s call. He wanted your arrest to look as real as possible. As far as the bad guys know, you two are out of the picture. I’m here to spring you both, so you can get back to work. Grin, you’re going to hole up at MARC, with Agents Harbke and Ullrich, and watch the Spyder. Iverson and some of Moy’s people will cover the Chicago end.’

‘What about me?’ Nolan asked.

‘You and I are going to London.’

Once their meal was finished, Mosley tossed his empty carryout box in the trash and brushed a few stray crumbs off his lap. ‘Get your things together. It’s time to go.’

Five minutes later, a guard led Mosley and the prisoners down the back stairs, to the parking garage. Grin and Kilkenny ducked in the backseat as Mosley’s car was waved through security and rode away.

Once clear of the police station, Mosley allowed the escaped prisoners to come up for air. Their first stop was the loading dock of the MARC building, where they dropped Grin off to assist Agents Ullrich and Harbke in operating the MARC computers and monitoring the Spyder. Grin was to hole up in the computer lab until further notice. Mosley then took Kilkenny home to pack.

From her hotel room, Roe finished coding a new set of instructions for the Spyder. Just working out the parameters for the complex program had taken the better part of the weekend. Unlike the earlier instruction sets that she’d downloaded to the device, this one defined a live on-line connection with the Spyder. That extra step forced Roe to modify her normal programming to increase security for the connection; everything had to be perfect if she was to execute a live data transfer from Moy Electronics safely.

After thoroughly debugging the program, removing any errors that might cripple the execution of her complex instructions, she encrypted the text and prepared to send the message.

As before, Roe started by accessing a local Internet server, one that happened to host one of her favorite Web sites, the Piccadilly Gardener. From there, she accessed the British National Telephone Exchange and jumped a few electronic circuits to cover her trail. Then she linked into their satellite communications lines and made her way to North America, where she passed through several other computer systems before finally sending her E-mail message to the Spyder.

Then, with a flurry of rapid keystrokes, Roe backpedaled through the systems she’d penetrated. After downloading a few tips on spring planting, she logged off the Net. Roe smiled as she read over the gardening tips, hoping that the seed she just planted would successfully take root.

An hour after posting the latest instructions to the Spyder, Roe arrived at Parnell’s office for a noon meeting.

‘Still hard at it, Alex?’

‘Just finished, and everything looks fine. I’ve sent off the new program, which should be picked up by the end of business today. Once it loads this file, it will go dormant until Friday.’

Parnell leaned back and mentally ran over the checklist. ‘Excellent. We don’t want to draw any suspicion away from the current suspects, now do we?’

‘A remarkable stroke of luck, I admit,’ Roe replied dubiously. ‘I checked the Detroit newspapers’Web sites and it appears that Kilkenny and another fellow have been charged with several computer-related crimes, including ours. It’s like Cole said-who would believe that the computer itself was capable of doing something like this? Unfortunately, with all the attention over there, someone still might figure out what’s really going on.’

‘Perhaps, but by then, you and I will be safely out of reach, basking in the warm Caribbean sun. What do you say we step out for a bit of lunch?’

From their perch across the park, Axton was again sitting in with the watchers. Parnell’s days seemed filled with the mundane tasks that every businessperson deals with. Most of the man’s business operations were perfectly legal and, for the most part, ethical. Axton’s crew of watchers just sat and watched and listened for those little details that they would use to build their case.