Stone Barrington 27 - Doing Hard Time

half a dozen other computer sites to the CIA mainframe, and logged on to it. After another half a minute’s work he was into the Agency’s face-recognition program.
    The program identified Majorov almost immediately and brought up a file on him. Teddy read it avidly and committed the salient details to memory. Then he switched to the photographs of Majorov’s companion; the computer took much longer and it required all the photographs before the man was identified. Teddy read the file:
    Vladimir Ivanovich Chernensky
,
born Kiev
,
Ukraine
,
1951
,
served in Soviet Army 1969–74
,
trained as a sniper. Tried for murdering his platoon sergeant
,
acquitted
,
but discharged. Seems to have become associated with criminal gangs in Moscow as a young man. Entered U.S. 1997 on a Polish passport
,
then disappeared
,
probably now in Brooklyn
,
NY. Rumors of use by the Russian Mafia as an assassin
,
acquiring sobriquet
“
the Viper.
”
Said to be a crack shot with rifle or handgun and good with knife and razor. Said to be inventive in his work.
    That was all, but it was more than enough to worry Teddy. He made a phone call on his cell phone.
    “Mike Freeman.”
    “It’s Billy Barnett.”
    “Hi, Billy, you ready to come work for us?”
    “Not yet—probably not for several months.”
    “Is something else occupying your time?”
    “Yes. Majorov landed in Santa Monica a couple of hours ago and has checked into the Bel-Air Hotel.” He gave Mike the suite number.
    “That’s interesting to know,” Mike said. “Do you think he’s an immediate threat to anyone I know?”
    “He brought with him a man from New York—write this down: Vladimir Ivanovich Chernensky, early sixties, five-seven, a hundred and thirty, gray hair. Known in Brooklyn as ‘the Viper.’”
    “I don’t like the sound of that,” Mike said.
    “There isn’t anything to like about this man. He’s an assassin, pure and simple: rifle, handgun, knife, razor—probably poison and a dozen other ways to kill. He’s not the sort of person a sane man would choose to travel with. He was carrying a heavy suitcase that he wouldn’t let anyone touch.”
    “I’m in L.A. I’m going to talk to Stone about this and suggest putting some people on him and Peter.”
    “If you’ll forgive the suggestion, I think you should do it surreptitiously with Mr. Barrington and confine your protection of Peter to transporting him between The Arrington and Centurion Studios. I’m doing some work for him at the studio and at Santa Monica Airport, and we’ll be spending a lot of time together, so I can watch his back. I’ll e-mail you photographs of Chernensky and Majorov, and you can distribute them to your people.”
    “Maybe I can get Chernensky arrested before he has time to move.”
    “He has no criminal record in the United States and by this time probably has an ironclad identity,” Teddy said, “so it would be difficult to have him arrested. If he gets anywhere near Peter, I’ll deal with him. If he gets near Mr. Barrington, I recommend he be dealt with . . . informally.”
    “That’s out. We don’t do that sort of thing—too much to lose.”
    “Then tell your people not to get in my way,” Teddy said, then hung up. He e-mailed the photographs to Freeman, printed out some copies, then got into his car and drove back to Centurion Studios.
    Peter was editing when Teddy walked in.
    “I thought you were taking the day off,” Peter said.
    “I finished my work, and I’d like to talk to you.”
    Peter switched off the machine, and they moved into his office.
    Teddy placed the hangar keys on Peter’s desk. “The hangar is all yours. One key works every lock. I’d like your permission to make use of the apartment in the hangar, if you don’t need it.”
    “Of course.”
    “I hired Tim Peters, and he was very happy about it. You’ll meet him at the airport tomorrow morning at eleven, before we fly.”
    “Great! Anything else?”
    “Yes. From now until further notice, you must not go anywhere except in a vehicle driven by a Strategic Services employee. Do you own a handgun?”
    “No, I’m not much interested in guns.”
    “Do you know how to shoot?”
    “Not in any sort of serious way.”
    “Then let’s go down to the armory right now and get you familiarized.”
    “But why? I don’t have a license.”
    “I’ll have one for you tomorrow morning.”
    “You can do that?”
    “Don’t ask too many questions, Peter.”
    “Why am I in