Page 101 of Denied Access
“Okay, ma’am,” Fred said. “Four more turns and it will be your show. Ready with the jack-in-the-box?”
Irene eyed the contraption on the seat to her left. “I push the button and get out of the way, right?”
“Exactly. Just make sure you slide it into your seat before you exit the vehicle. The idea is to keep your silhouette exactly the same.”
While technology had revolutionized the profession of espionage,sometimes the old ways were still best. The jack-in-the-box was a perfect example. When the activation button was depressed, a person-shaped balloon rapidly inflated, giving the impression that the seat’s previous occupant was still in the car. The jack-in-the-box couldn’t withstand close scrutiny, but for a mobile surveillance team trying to follow the SUV, it should do the trick.
“Two minutes,” Brett said. “Your drop-off’s coming up on the right, ma’am.”
Irene peered into the night searching for the industrial building. Tonight was just a rehearsal, but Irene intended to go through each step as if it were the real deal short of exiting the SUV.
A moment later, the boxy structure’s outline materialized.
“In sight,” Irene said.
“Okay,” Fred said. “Remember, if we were doing this for real, I’d want you to duck behind the bushes in front of the building and stay frozen for at least five minutes. The Russians are probably using more than one tail vehicle. After your five minutes are up, walk at a normal pace to your car. Brett and I should be able to keep them from getting close enough to determine that the jack-in-the-box is a fake for at least thirty minutes.”
Irene did remember.
All of it.
This was partially because she had a photographic memory, but mostly because the plan had been hers. She still nodded anyway, as though she were committing the details Fred had just recounted to memory. Tonight’s goal was twofold: One, to see if her case officer’s heat state was real or the product of an overactive imagination. Two, to stretch and test the Russian surveillance team.
Though she had no way of knowing if her volunteer was still checking the embassy windows after two days of silence, Irene was acting on the assumption that she would meet with the Russian tomorrow. This meant that tonight might be her only chance to practice before she’d have to lose the FSK surveillance team for real.
The plan to do so was simple.
Her case officers had left work this evening as they normally did in ones and twos, but rather than go home to their families, the men and women began to execute SDRs that would take them across Moscow’s four cardinal directions, dragging their surveillance teams with them. Though the Russians certainly had the home-field advantage, their resources were finite. Irene hoped that by forcing Russian counterintelligence operatives to pick and choose whom to follow, she would dilute the surveillance net currently ensnaring her CIA officers.
Especially the Russians assigned to watch her.
“Thirty seconds, ma’am.”
Irene released her seat belt and grasped the door handle with one hand while resting the other on the jack-in-the-box. After Brett made the next turn, a multistory industrial building on the right would briefly obscure the SUV from the pursuing surveillance team. This blind spot would allow her to activate the decoy, exit her vehicle, and hide behind the hedges. Once the Russian surveillance team drove by, she would walk to the parking lot, where a car had been pre-positioned for her.
Simple.
“Okay, Irene,” Brett said. “Five, four, three, two—”
Light shattered the darkness, nearly blinding her.
Irene turned toward the headlights, registering the presence of a massive truck.
Then her head connected with the passenger window accompanied by the sounds of buckling metal, squealing tires, and breaking glass.
CHAPTER 56
ZURICH, SWITZERLAND
SHOULDI call the police?” Greta said.
Rapp powered into a turn before riding the brakes as he tore through the outskirts of the village that sat just south of Ohlmeyer’s estate. Like most Swiss towns, this one consisted of orderly groups of houses bordered by greenery. Even this close to Zurich, the town had an agrarian feel, with pastoral wheat fields providing a backdrop to the settlement. Rapp didn’t slow in concession to the speed limit as much as he did to the reality that houses meant children and children didn’t always look twice before crossing the street.
After nosing the BMW around a hairpin ninety-degree turn, he exited the village proper for the smaller back road leading to Ohlmeyer’s estate. With open road to his front and rolling fields to his left and right, Rapp floored the accelerator. Though he couldn’t see it yet, he knew the turnoff to the mansion was waiting just beyond the next bend.
“No,” Rapp said. “We’re almost there.”
Greta nodded, her fingers still clutching the phone.
