Page 71 of The Collector
“If the IAEA had bothered to interview a nuclear physicist named Lukas van Damme, they might have reached a different conclusion. You should assume that the Russians are now in possession of the bullet and target of a crude gun-type weapon. And then you should ask yourself why a country with six thousand advanced nuclear weapons would go to the trouble of acquiring that material.”
“Because the material cannot be traced to Russia’s existing stockpiles. Which means it would be ideal for some sort of false-flag incident in Ukraine that Vladimir Vladimirovich could use as a pretext to bring the war to a swift and decisive nuclear conclusion.” Carter frowned and added, “If he were so inclined.”
“Is he?”
“The broader US intelligence community has concluded that Vladimir Vladimirovich, despite his irrational decision to invade Ukraine, is a rational actor who has no intention of using nuclear weapons. Our British cousins at the Secret Intelligence Service share our opinion.”
“And what does the director of the CIA think?”
“He’s troubled by the constant nuclear drumbeat he hears on Russian television. He’s also alarmed by some of the things the Russian president’s closest security and intelligence advisers, the so-calledsiloviki, are whispering into his ear. To describe the men around the Russian president as hard-liners is a dangerous understatement. The current director of the SVR is an unstable sociopath, or so my in-house shrinks tell me. But the real problem is Nikolai Petrov, the secretary of Russia’s Security Council. Nikolai’s wrapped around his own axle. He’s a true paranoid ultranationalist radical. Nikolai thinks the war in Ukraine is part of a broader struggle between traditional Christian values and the decadent, homosexual West.Nikolai thinks Ukrainians are nonhumans and that Vladimir should have dropped the bomb on Kyiv a long time ago. Nikolai thinks Russia can win a nuclear war against the United States. Nikolai,” said Carter, lowering his voice, “scares the living shit out of me.”
“And how does the director of the Central Intelligence Agency know what Nikolai Petrov is whispering into the ear of the Russian president?”
“Sources and methods,” protested Carter.
“Which is it, Adrian?”
The CIA director smiled. “A little of both.”
37
Langley
Carter snatched up his phone and requested a pair of files. One was Nikolai Petrov’s. The other was for someone named Komarovsky. They were delivered in short order by an earnest-looking young officer wearing a Brooks Brothers suit and striped tie. The covers of both files had distinctive orange borders and were labeledtop secret//sci, indicating they contained sensitive compartmented information, the highest level of classification in the American system.
Carter opened the Petrov file first. “Nikolai started his career at the KGB. No surprise there, they all did. But what sets Nikolai apart is that he cut his teeth in the Leningrad bureau in the 1970s along with you-know-who.”
“Vladimir Vladimirovich.”
Carter nodded. “Nikolai has been at Vladimir’s side from the very beginning. He took over control of the Security Council in 2008, the same year his wife, for reasons that were never made public, decided to commit suicide. His office is in the Kremlin Palace, not far from Vladimir’s. On paper he serves roughly the same function asour national security adviser. In practice, though, Nikolai wields far more power. The foreign and defense ministers report directly to him, as do the directors of the three major Russian intelligence services. Nikolai Petrov is the second most powerful man in Russia and is considered to be Vladimir’s most likely successor. The very thought of it keeps me awake at night.”
Carter handed Gabriel a photograph, a satellite image of a substantial English-style manor house surrounded by manicured grounds. The trees were in full leaf. A three-vehicle motorcade was parked in the drive.
“Not bad for a man who has never worked a day in the private sector,” said Carter. “It’s located west of Moscow in Rublyovka, the suburb of Russian oligarchs and Kremlin elites.”
“And Danish oil executives,” added Gabriel.
“Ever been?”
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”
“It’s not an actual municipality,” explained Carter. “It’s a collection of gated communities, a bit like Florida-on-the-Moskva. Petrov lives in a development called Somerset Estates. Most of his neighbors are members of thesiloviki. Therefore, the security is extremely tight.”
“And how, pray tell, did a humble public servant like Nikolai Petrov afford a knockoff English manor house in the world’s most expensive neighborhood?”
“Because Nikolai is a member in good standing of the inner ring. As such, he has access to an array of no-lose investment opportunities not available to ordinary Russian citizens. We imposed sanctions on Nikolai after the Russians went into Ukraine. His European bank accounts have been frozen, and the French seized his villa in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat. His remaining wealth is ruble-based. Most of it is locked up in TverBank, which is also under sanction. Poor Nikolai,” said Carter, “is in a bit of a pickle.”
“How much is poor Nikolai worth?”
“At today’s exchange rate? Just shy of three billion.” Carter handed over another satellite photograph—the same English-style manor house, a different angle. He pointed out a window on the second floor. “That’s his home office. He’s a bit of a workaholic, our Nikolai. He usually leaves the Kremlin around nine p.m. and then works from home until long after midnight.”
“Says who?”
“His personal computer.” Carter extracted another photograph from Petrov’s file. It was an unflattering close-up of a sunken-cheeked man of approximately seventy. The bags beneath his eyes suggested he had not been sleeping well of late. “Compliments of our friends at Fort Meade,” said Carter.
Fort Meade, located in suburban Maryland, was the headquarters of the National Security Agency.
“The computer itself contains nothing of value,” Carter continued. “But the camera and microphone allow us to eavesdrop on calls that Nikolai places on his secure phone, including calls to his friend Vladimir Vladimirovich. The camera also allows us to take photographs and videos of the office itself. Here’s what it looks like when Nikolai isn’t blocking the shot.”
