Page 39 of Spymaster

Leaning forward so that no one could overhear him, he whispered, “Royal Osetra.”

Two hundred bucks a tin.Ryan wondered how much of the money she had wired into Kopec’s account was funding this gourmet outing, but she kept her curiosity to herself. She hadn’t believed all of the money would go to tracking down the missing missile kits. A certain amount, undoubtedly, would wind up in Kopec’s pocket and be justified as “handling.”

Figuring she, or rather The Carlton Group, had helped pay for it, Ryan availed herself of a large serving, but demurred when the Pole attempted to pour a shot of vodka for her. “I have to drive back to the office after this.”

“Then just have one,” he said, using the bottle to gently brush her hand aside.

Next to cash, alcohol was the lubricant that greased the wheels of the espionage world. Drinking was just part of how the great game was played, especially with older operatives. Retracting her hand, she allowed him to pour. Ryan could handle her liquor.

“To Peaches,” he said, raising his glass.

In addition to being a brilliant intelligence officer, Reed Carlton had also been known as a ruthless interrogator. It wasn’t something he relished, but it wasn’t something he shied away from either. When tough work needed to be done, his colleagues knew he could be counted upon. His most aggressive interrogating was reserved for the worst actors.

Because of his ability to break the toughest, most evil of men—by any means necessary—Carlton had been given the amusing sobriquet Peaches. In time, it grew to be a term of endearment.

“To Peaches,” Ryan replied, clinking her tiny glass against Kopec’s and throwing the vodka back in one shot.

The Pole refilled his glass, but before he could do the same for hers, she slid it away and turned it upside down.

“Na Zdrowie!”he cheered with a smile,To health, and then knocked his back.

He was an amazing drinker. She could only imagine what his liver looked like. They probably could have used it for a doorstop back at the embassy, which got her to thinking.

“Aren’t you concerned someone from work might see us here together?” she asked.

“Concerned? I’mcountingon it!” he replied. “Do you know what being seen with a beautiful woman like you would do for my standing in the diplomatic corps? In fact, I’m not allowing you to leave until someonedoessee us.”

Ryan smiled politely. “Even you are not that careless, Artur.”

“True. But being seen with the recent Deputy Director of the CIA, is a resume enhancer. The fact that she is also very attractive is a plus.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” he said. “And don’t be worried. No one at my embassy has the courage to leave before five o’clock—especially on a Friday. Most are career civil servants with the lingering fear of authority beaten into them during the Soviet days. Besides, it’s cheaper for them to stay at the office and drink. This way, when five o’clock rolls around and they’re ready to go out and party, they’re already drunk.”

Ryan laughed. She had had lots of overseas postings, and drinking before going out, in order to save money, was the rule, not the exception.

Knowing that Kopec would keep her here boozing with him as long as possible, perhaps indeed hoping they’d be spotted together, she decided to professionally move things along. “So, what is the urgent update you have for me?”

She had caught him just as he was putting a blini loaded with caviar, red onion, and sour cream into his mouth.

It took him a minute to chew it all and swallow. She was relieved to see him reach for his ice water, rather than another vodka, to wash it all down.

Finally, the Polish intelligence officer spoke. “I think we may have found the upgrade kits for your illegal missiles.”

CHAPTER 24

She didn’t like that Kopec had used the word “illegal,” nor did she like the way he had said it. He was setting her up for something; she could sense it, but she didn’t let on. “What did you find?” she asked.

Taking out his phone, he opened a folder, and then slid the device across the table to her. “Feel free to scroll through.”

Ryan did. There were multiple still photos, beginning with the CCTV footage of the theft. Though the thieves’ faces were not visible, their robbery was. The cameras had made it all possible. The van the thieves were driving, as well as its license plate, could be seen as clear as day.

“This is terrific,” she remarked. “Were you able to trace the vehicle?”

“It turns out that it was stolen, but keep going.”

Ryan scrolled through the pictures of a barn that followed. Inside was the van. “Oh, my God, you found it.”

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