Page 75 of The Collector
“Based on Adrian’s description, I’d say he’s an extremely wealthy businessman.”
“That narrows the field considerably. But if he’s really plotting against Vladimir and working for the CIA, why is he still walking the face of the earth?”
“Who’s to say he is?”
“And if he isn’t?”
“A cornered and humiliated Vladimir Vladimirovich will order the use of tactical nuclear weapons in Ukraine. And then...”
Lavon lifted his foot from the throttle. “I think I missed our turn.”
“You did, Eli. Three turns ago.”
Gabriel beganhis career as an assassin, but many of his greatest triumphs had been achieved not with a gun but with the power of hisvoice. He had convinced wives to betray their husbands, fathers to betray their sons, intelligence officers to betray their countries, and terrorists to betray their causes and even the laws of their God. Persuading DanskOil CEO Magnus Larsen to betray his puppet masters in Russia was, by comparison, a far less arduous endeavor.
The negotiations, such as they were, were conducted in the dining room of the safe house, with only Eli Lavon present. Magnus approached the matter as though it were nothing more than a business arrangement. He wanted a guarantee, in writing, that he would not face criminal charges and that nothing about his past conduct would leak to the press. Gabriel acceded to neither demand. It would be up to the Danish government, he explained, to determine the CEO’s legal fate. He was confident, though, that he could convince the director of the PET to look the other way. As for leaks to the press, Magnus could rest assured there would be none from Gabriel or the CIA—unless, of course, they served an operational purpose.
“The DanskOil–RuzNeft joint venture?”
“The time has come, Magnus.”
“Walking away from twelve billion dollars will do serious damage to my bottom line.Andmy stock price.”
“You should have thought of that before you plowed all that cash into a Kremlin-owned oil company.”
“I didn’t have much of a say in the matter.”
“And you won’t have a say this time, either.”
With that, Gabriel recited to Magnus a set of inviolable ground rules. He was to keep his phone with him at all times and was to immediately report any contact from his SVR controller or any other Russian national. Furthermore, he was to set aside two hours each evening for planning and training purposes. He was to say nothing to his wife or children about his activities. Any attempt to shield hiscommunications, interpersonal or electronic, would be interpreted as a sign that his allegiance had once again tilted Moscow’s way.
“You needn’t worry about my loyalty, Allon. I’m with you now.”
“But for the last twenty years, you’ve been withthem. And that means your true loyalty will never be far from my thoughts.” Gabriel tapped the crystal of the Piaget wristwatch. “You also happen to be a rather close friend of the Russian president.”
“Along with several members of his inner circle, including Nikolai Petrov. Which is why I’m the only person in the world who can pull off this operation for you.”
“How well do you know him?”
“Petrov? I’m not sure anyone really does—with the exception of Vladimir, of course. But I refer to him by his first name, and he calls me Comrade Larsenov.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It should, actually. Nikolai trusts no one, especially Westerners. But he mistrusts me less than most.”
“And why is that?”
Magnus smiled bitterly. “Kompromat.”
The CEO returned to Copenhagen early the next morning aboard a chartered plane, accompanied by Mikhail and Natalie. Katje Strøm made the trip commercially with Dina and Eli Lavon, and by midday she was standing behind the counter at Jørgens Smørrebrød Café, gently fending off questions from coworkers and customers about her new hairstyle. Gabriel, however, elected to remain in Berlin for one additional day. He had a job he wished to offer the last member of his unlikely operational team. A mission of great secrecy and danger that would take her into the dark heart of a Russia gone mad. Something no one in their right mind would ever do.
39
Dübener Heide
“We had a deal, Mr. Allon.”
“Did we?”
