A Hostile State Adrian Magson (reading e books txt) 📖

got the Russians blocked and shocked they go and make a new move. Dalkin made the first approach to Desayeva and she drew him in like warm butter. He would have known everything Benson was working on, including all that business while you were in Ukraine, and saw a way of leveraging some money out of it.’

‘So who was the inside leak?’

‘A member of our Support Directorate. She’s Dalkin’s cousin and lives a high life which turned out to be way beyond her means. He’s already talking to the FBI and admits he agreed to pay her a lot of money if she gave him information on your real name and current whereabouts.’

‘Could she do that? I thought there were firewalls and stuff.’

‘She’s very smart; she burrowed right inside our contracts files looking for your code name. It didn’t include your address details, but all she had to do was look at the last date we had contact with you … which showed up your trip to Lebanon. She contacted Dalkin and he did the rest. Unfortunately, even the cleverest people forget that there are always traces left behind, no matter how small. We ran an audit trail and she was done.’

‘So that’s how they got onto me there.’

‘Yes. After that, though, we think Ledhoffen managed to bypass Dalkin and deal direct with Desayeva, who she was already big buddies with.’ He gave a brief laugh. ‘The Russians were happy to pay Dalkin, anyway, but they probably paid Ledhoffen more. You can imagine how the interrogation team are playing up that one. Dalkin’s mad enough to spit shrapnel.’

‘Are these people in custody?’

‘They’ve got Dalkin, of course. He’s the weak link in the chain. So far he’s trying to parlay his way out of a long sentence by offering up his cousin. He claims she’s the one who’s been giving away your location each time.’ Callahan sounded tired, as if the machinations had worn him down. ‘Unfortunately Desayeva slipped the net. The FBI was on the point of bringing her in for a little chat when she took off. Her instincts must be well-tuned; she’s probably in Moscow by now, cosying up to Uncle Vladimir and looking for the next assignment.’

‘What about the cousin?’ It really didn’t matter to me but I liked to think that all the loose ends had been tied up.

‘The FBI is taking care of that today. They’ve got her on a twenty-four-hour watch while they get all their legal checks done. It’s likely to send Langley into a spin when news gets out.’

‘And my situation?’ None of this told me whether I was clear of trouble yet, whether the people after me had given up for good or whether I’d have to spend the next few years looking over my shoulder.

‘That’s the good news. I’ve been talking to Tom Vale, who seems to know a lot of stuff we don’t. He tells me the people in Moscow have called off the wolves.’

‘The British know things the CIA doesn’t? Now there’s a thing.’ It was a low blow but I figured it didn’t hurt for the CIA to have their egos punctured once in a while. If they’d got a leak in Langley it served to show they were not infallible, in spite of what the American public was led to believe. Actually, for that read every intelligence agency in the world; fallibility is built into their very framework because the structures are human. And every now and then proof comes along to show just how susceptible they are … and what the consequences are of pretending they’re not. ‘Did he say who or what kicked it off?’

‘It was a pay-back mission. We can’t exactly place a smoking gun in Putin’s hand but we do know it was organized and run by a secret group in Moscow. And on an issue like this they would have operated only if they’d had the nod from the very top.’

‘What was the point – and why me?’

‘The aim was simple. It was designed to make up for a number of failed missions by FSB and GRU units in the west, and the expulsion of their sleepers including Anna Chapman and the failure of the Skripal poisoning in the UK. What better way to signal their fight-back and show us they weren’t going to take any more of our shit than by knocking off a CIA operative who’s been a particular pain in their collective ass for the past few years. I paraphrase, of course, but that operative just happened to be you.’

‘Is that all?’ I wasn’t sure I believed it at first. But given a few seconds of thought I couldn’t deny Callahan was probably right: there was a certain tortured Russian logic to it. If taking out a CIA agent could be seen as a face-saver for past fails, then it made absolute sense.

It was all about perceived strength. Being the strong man was Putin’s entire game plan and always had been. He’d grown up on it since his days in the KGB, posed picture after picture showing himself as the judo-playing, tiger-hunting man of action, bare-chested and frightened of nothing and nobody – least of all the West. And the people around him would have tapped automatically into the same doctrine because it served them to do so.

‘There have been crazier situations,’ Callahan continued. ‘They don’t always make sense to us, but we have to take it at face value. Vale’s information is that the group running the operation has been disbanded. We can both guess what that means.’

He was right. The harsh reality of failure in Russian military and intelligence circles was simple. Success brought all the plaudits while failure meant nobody got to hear about it again. Ever.

‘You shouldn’t throw in the towel,’ I said. I wasn’t sure where that had come from or even if it was my place to say it. But it was out now. ‘Politicians are never around for long. Their turn