“Sokalov had the camera on this block removed to better conceal our meetings. That might buy us a few more minutes,” she said. “But not many. If he tracks us moving in this direction, he’ll deduce we chose this apartment for the reasons you just explained.”
Jenkins hoped they’d be long gone before that happened.
29
Velikaya Estate
Novorizhskoye, Russia
Mily Karlov hung up his desk phone, left his office, and walked to the other wing of the house, to where Yekaterina Velikaya kept her office. He rapped softly on the door three times.
“Voydite.”
Mily entered. Yekaterina spoke on the phone in the light of her desk lamp. Out her arched windows dawn broke through the dark sky, offering muted blue-gray light. Steam rose from a cup of coffee beside a slice of toast. Both looked untouched. Mily deduced she was discussing funeral arrangements. After a few more sentences, Yekaterina hung up and stared vacantly across the room. “Eldar will be buried with his grandfather in Yekaterinburg,” she said, her voice soft. “I am arranging to have a similar marble statue erected in his honor.”
Mily had never understood the desire to erect grandiose statues or slabs of marble depicting a decedent to mark that person’s grave. In Yekaterinburg Cemetery it seemed the mafiya families tried to one-up one another, erecting sculptures with the decedent’s fingers bearing large jewels, or his body standing beside expensive cars and lavish homes. Mily understood the display was intended to represent that the deceased would lead just as grand a lifestyle as the person had lived in life, but he found them to be gauche and a waste of money. They only reminded him that the men who died had been too young.
He didn’t believe in the afterlife. If there was one, he’d know soon enough. Until then, he’d enjoy this life as much as he could.
“I’m sure it will be lovely, Comare,” he said.
“You have information,” she said.
“I just spoke with Maxim Ugolov at the Information Technologies Center. Mr. Jenkins has surfaced in Moscow, and it seems we are not the only ones interested in him.”
“The police, I am sure,” she said.
“And the FSB,” Mily said. “Dmitry Sokalov was in Ugolov’s office early this morning along with another man tracking Mr. Jenkins. They are considering CCTV footage now to find him.”
Yekaterina’s face hardened at the mention of the name of Dmitry Sokalov, the man she held responsible for her father’s death, along with the president. She paced near the windows, half her face in shadow.
Mily knew Yekaterina had, on more than one occasion, contemplated killing Sokalov, as she had evened the score with others who crossed her father, but she did not make rash decisions. To kill someone of Sokalov’s stature would start an all-out war with the government and potentially Sokalov’s father-in-law, the former leader of Directorate S. It was a war Yekaterina could not hope to win.
“You have told Ugolov the importance of this information to me?” she said, her voice controlled.
“He assures he will advise me before he advises the deputy director, if he gets a hit for Mr. Jenkins.”
She paced, turned, and looked out the window. “Did Ugolov identify the second man with Sokalov?”
“He did not, but he said it was clear this man was in charge, that Sokalov deferred to him.”
She gave Mily a quizzical look. He, too, had thought the information odd. “Did Ugolov know this man’s name or tell you what he was doing there?”
“Only that Mr. Jenkins and a woman used the underground tunnels to avoid capture and he was directing their search to surface streets. Something else Ugolov said of interest.”
Yekaterina waited.
“Sokalov told him any information regarding Mr. Jenkins was highly classified and not to be shared with anyone. Sokalov was even concerned with Ugolov’s choice of technician to review the camera footage. Ugolov said they did not alert the Moscow police or any other FSB officers.”
Yekaterina gave this a moment of thought. “Given what we know of Mr. Jenkins, that he is on a Kremlin kill list, one would have assumed all of the FSB would have been alerted, would one not?”
“One would, but it is not the case. I have made multiple telephone calls to those who work for us,” Mily said, meaning the FSB officers on Yekaterina’s payroll. “Ugolov is correct. They know nothing of Mr. Jenkins’s supposed return to Moscow, and they are unaware of any general order from Sokalov about him.”
“Sokalov is keeping this quiet. Why?” She paced again, in and out of the shadows from the windows. “Who is the woman?”