Page 96 of The Collector
“With the combination. How else?”
“How did you—”
“Sources and methods, Mr. Luzhkov.”
“You’re a quick study. But are you sure you have the right combination?”
“Within one or two digits to the left or right of each number. It won’t take me more than a minute to work it out.”
“What do youthinkthe number is?”
She answered truthfully.
“Don’t bother trying another combination. I’m certain that’s the correct one.”
“Why?”
“The numbers correspond to his late wife’s birthday. But unlocking the safe is only half the problem. Once you’re inside, you have to choose therightSecurity Council directive. There are likely to be copies of several others.”
“Last time we checked, there were fourteen. But don’t worry, I’ll get the right one. Security Council of Russia directive 37-23\VZ, dated the twenty-fourth of August, eyes only the state president of the Russian Federation.”
“I’m told it’s approximately fifty pages in length. Once you finish photographing it, return downstairs and wait for Magnus and me to conclude our business.”
“And what business is that?” asked Magnus.
“It seems that the secretary of the Security Council is concerned about the stability of his assets here in Russia. For that reason, he’s quite anxious to transfer the bulk of his net worth to the West as quickly as possible.”
“He’s on the Treasury Department’s sanctions list. If he tries to move his money, the Americans and Europeans will seize it.”
“Which is why he’s so grateful that you, a trusted friend of the Russian people, have agreed to secretly hold the money on his behalf.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“Approximately two and a half billion dollars. At the conclusion of our meeting, you and Ms. Sørensen will immediately set out for Pulkovo Airport in Saint Petersburg. A private jet will be waiting for you at the FBO in the morning. Leave your vehicle in the car park. You won’t be needing it again.”
“Where is the plane going?”
“Because of the sanctions and travel restrictions, our options are rather limited. I suppose we could send you to Uzbekistan or Kyrgyzstan, but Istanbul seemed rather more unappealing. Your friends from the CIA can meet you there.”
“And what about you, Gennady?”
“I plan to take another walk in Novodevichy and think about how I wish to be remembered.”
“Whatever you do,” said Magnus, “don’t think too long.”
Gennady smiled sadly. “No chance of that.”
48
Copenhagen
The audio transmissions from Ingrid’s and Magnus Larsen’s phones went silent at 7:36 p.m. Copenhagen time and resumed forty-nine minutes later. Their location had not changed in the interim; they were inside the home of TverBank chairman Gennady Luzhkov in the exclusive Rublyovka gated community known as Mayendorf Gardens. A dinner was in progress. The conversation was empty and banal, and contained no clues as to what had transpired earlier. Ingrid eventually sent along a photograph, en clair, of the wine they were drinking with their meal. It was Château Le Pin Pomerol. In the op center at PET headquarters, mouths watered.
Ingrid waited until she had left Luzhkov’s home before dispatching her next message, this time using the satellite feature of her Genesis communications device. It stated that she and Magnus were expected at the Rublyovka residence of Secretary Nikolai Petrov at ten the following evening and that they would be departing Russia early the following morning aboard a private aircraft chartered by GennadyLuzhkov. It would depart not from Moscow but from Pulkovo Airport in Saint Petersburg. Its destination, according to the message, would be Istanbul.
It was a remarkable achievement on Luzhkov’s part. As promised, the oligarch had managed to gain access to Nikolai Petrov’s home. But what were the circumstances of the late-night visit? Gabriel had no idea. And how did Luzhkov propose to keep Petrov occupied while Ingrid opened the safe and photographed the Security Council directive? Gabriel hadn’t a clue. And what was Luzhkov’s plan in the event something went wrong? In all likelihood, he hadn’t one. Neither, for that matter, did Gabriel, which meant that the life of a woman he had sent into Russia was in the hands of a man he had never met.
He remained in the PET op center until midnight, then headed to the American Embassy, where he spent the next two hours on a secure line to Langley. It was nearly 3:00a.m. when he finally returned to the safe house. He managed to get a few hours of badly needed sleep, and by midafternoon he was showered and dressed and stalking the rooms with a severe case of preoperational jitters.
