Page 112 of Dead Fall

She smiled. “Nope.”

Nicholas smiled back. “This is all very nice of you. Thank you.”

“Consider it Ukrainian hospitality. Except to exercise the dogs, you never leave the building. You work with our digital people all day and then give an evening lecture. If you’re going to keep these hours, this is the least we can do to repay you.”

Opening the wine, she produced two paper cups, filled them, and then, raising hers, said, “Cheers.”

Nicholas tapped his against hers and replied, “Cheers.”

After they had taken a sip and had each helped themselves to a slice of pizza, she asked, “What are we going to learn about tonight?”

The little man closed his eyes and took a moment to savor his first bite. “This is amazing.”

She smiled. “Good, right?”

“Incredible.”

“How about the wine?”

Nicholas tilted his hand from side to side and said, “Meh.”

Yulia laughed. “Pizza is one thing, but do you know how hard it is to get wine in the middle of a war?”

“In that case,” he conceded, “it’s excellent. Especially for a Chianti. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He took another bite of pizza and said, “Tonight’s presentation is about sowing disinformation.”

About to take a drink, she paused. “As in counterespionage?”

Nicholas nodded. “It’s based on something the Brits did back in World War II to throw off the Nazis regarding the D-Day invasion. I helped the GUR develop something similar, but in this case it has to do with troop movements.

“You see, the Russians believe they have penetrated Ukrainian Intelligence. What they don’t know is that the GUR has identified theseoperatives and has been allowing them to access false intel, which they are reporting back to their handlers in Moscow.”

Yulia smiled once again. “Very clever.”

In his office, watching via a hidden camera system, Kozar smiled as well.

“Very clever,” he said to himself. “Very clever indeed.”

CHAPTER 33

WASHINGTON, D.C.

“Got him!” Fields said when her boss, who had stayed up half the night running down leads, had finally answered his phone. “Senator Wilson’s lunch partner up in Boston.”

“Who is he?” asked Carolan.

“His name is Joseph Nistal. And you’re never going to believe this. Want to know where he lives?”

“Go ahead,” grunted Carolan as he sat up on his office couch and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“In Dimitri Burman’s building. He’s Burman’s flipping neighbor.”

The FBI man was wide-awake now. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m as serious as cancer,” Fields replied.

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