LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘Do I get a medal?’

      ‘No medal, James. There are those who want to know more about you, the FBI included, and this file will come to light eventually. Unless I bury or lose it. I could potentially use someone like you, if you are what I think you are. I’m offering you a chance. I can protect you from all of this, the wolves here in the US, and Interpol, but in order to do that I need you to be honest with me. You are not James East. I need to know exactly who you are and what you were doing in New Jersey.’

      East made a decision. ‘My name is Sergey Gorodetski, and I was shopping.’

      There was a moment of silence as Casey held eye contact with Gorodetski before he replied. ‘The funny thing is, Sergey, I believe you. So, Russian or Russian speaker?’

      ‘Russian.’

      Casey tapped the file with his index finger. ‘And so to this. Why did you assassinate these two British citizens?’

      ‘What guarantee do I have that you are not taping this? That you will not turn me over to the Feds for rendition to the UK?’

      ‘That’s a fair point.’ Casey took a Glock 19 from his jacket and placed it on the bedside table. He turned it so the grip was within the Russian’s reach. ‘Here, take it, it’s loaded. You have my trust, Sergey, and I hope I have yours.’

      Gorodetski slowly reached for the gun and was surprised to see that Casey didn’t flinch. He aimed the sidearm at the American, felt the weight, and then carefully lowered it. ‘It’s loaded.’

      ‘I told you it was.’

      ‘I could have killed you.’

      ‘You still can, if you want. I’m a good judge of character, Sergey, and I know you won’t. Call me romantic – my ex-wife doesn’t – but I know who you are… on the inside. I can tell. You’re not a stone-cold killer. So enlighten me, ease my confusion, and tell me. Why did you assassinate that father and son, Jas and Bav Malik?’

      ‘I was of the belief they murdered my brother.’

      Casey was surprised. ‘And did they?’

      ‘No.’ Gorodetski pushed the Glock back. ‘They were innocent. I murdered them. I am a killer. I deserve a bullet to the brain.’

      ‘I could shoot you, but I won’t. I think I can use you, if you agree.’

      ‘I agree.’

      Casey smirked. ‘Tell me more; treat this as a confession, not to a policeman but to a priest. Why did you believe these two men killed your brother?’

      Gorodetski took a breath and recounted what he had been told was the truth. ‘In 1989 my brother, Mikhail, was in the Red Army. His commanding officer said their unit was attacked by Mujahideen outside Kabul. Mikhail was wounded, captured, then tortured before being dismembered. Much later his CO told me he had found two of my brother’s killers. They were living respectable lives with British passports.’

      ‘Did you find the real murderer?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Did you kill him?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Who was he?’

      ‘Mikhail’s commanding officer.’

      ‘How did that make you feel?’

      ‘Empty.’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘I was fooled, but that is no excuse. I executed two innocent men. There is not a night that goes by without me seeing their faces.’

      ‘We all make mistakes, Sergey – just ask my wife.’ Gorodetski scanned his fingers for a ring. There was none. ‘Exactly. Some mistakes are big, some small, and some monumental. I can give you a second chance, which no one else can; a chance to make a difference. Not many get that.’

      ‘Why should I believe you? You have thousands of SEALs or Delta or Rangers or Activity guys to choose from.’

      ‘Good question. I’m Agency. What I do, Sergey, is black – blacker than black. You could call it “Cold Black” – global counterterrorism. There are only four other men who know I have you, and one of those you kicked in the nuts. I get to choose my men, use Agency resources, and not get questioned. However, and this is where you come in, regardless of what you read in the press or see on WikiLeaks, we do not have unlimited resources – human or otherwise. In short, when the Cold War ended our threat radar was moved to point at the Middle East. Langley didn’t see a need for Soviet speakers, let alone native Russian-speaking operatives. But then Russia invaded Georgia, and then they annexed Crimea, and then they shot down a passenger jet while invading Eastern Ukraine. Langley made a mistake and I had a problem. I was thinking about how I could fix it when you appeared.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      ‘Don’t go getting any grandiose ideas; it was coincidence not serendipity. Are you a patriot?’

      ‘To Russia?’

      ‘Who else?’

      ‘The people, yes. The country, perhaps. The Kremlin? No.’

      ‘That’s very good to hear, if you mean it. I need to assess you and, even if, after that, you were to pass, you’d be strictly on probation. Make a mistake or step out of line and this file gets updated and sent along with you on a one-way ticket to London. Or, failing that, perhaps I throw you in the nearest river; it all depends on whether I’ve had a bad day or not.’

      Gorodetski allowed himself a half-smile. ‘You should work at the Army recruiting office.’

      ‘Who said I didn’t? Here is your first test – an act of good faith you could call it.’ Casey picked up the file containing the information on ‘James East’. ‘I need something for the FBI to, how can I put this, ease your transition into my custody and persuade me I’m not making a mistake with you.’

      ‘I understand.’

      Casey tapped the file. ‘Who was responsible for your legend?’

      Gorodetski frowned. ‘Responsible?’

      ‘Where did you get your false identity from?’

      Gorodetski paused for a beat before he spoke. ‘Tim Bull. He’s a high-school science teacher in Miami and an old KGB asset.’

      ‘And he’s gone freelance?’

      ‘For the right price. He doesn’t like the current Russian President.’

      ‘Who does?’ Casey shrugged. ‘I’m going to need everything you have on him.’

      ‘Agreed.’

      ‘It wasn’t a request, Sergey.’

      *

       Sol-Iletsk, Russia

      Penal colony No. 6 in the Urals town of Sol-Iletsk was known as ‘Black Dolphin’ and officially classified as a ‘final destination’ prison. It was one of five Russian facilities where criminals sentenced to death were held, but by far the most ominous. Inmates unlucky enough to be sent there had no chance of escape and, unofficially, no hope of parole. The Black Dolphin’s seven hundred inmates represented Russia’s most brutal criminals and included murderers, cannibals, rapists, paedophiles, and terrorists. One of the seven hundred was a Chechen, Aslan Kishiev. Sentenced to full life imprisonment for his part in terrorist attacks on Russian civilian targets, he was nicknamed ‘mini-Laden’. Kishiev had been the de-facto leader of the Islamic International Brigade ever since its founder, Shamil Basayev, had been killed in 2006. Kishiev had continued the jihad against Russia until he was finally betrayed by a close friend. Outraged at the manner in which he had been captured, at his trial Kishiev had openly vowed revenge by offering a bounty for the informer’s head. This, however, had only added to the charges levelled against him. To mock Kishiev

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