The Defector

Ivan’s missile deal was made public?”
    “Definitely after.”
    “Did you meet in Geneva?”
    “He was afraid I was being watched in Geneva. He insisted I come to Vienna.”
    “He had a job offer?”
    “ Two jobs, actually. Serious jobs. Serious money.”
    “The first was Grigori Bulganov?”
    “Correct.”
    “And the second was me?”
    “No, not you , Allon. The second job was your wife.”

48
    HAUTE-SAVOIE, FRANCE
    GABRIEL FELT a wave of anger break over him. He wanted to drive his fist through the Russian’s face. He wanted to hit him so hard he would never get up again. Instead, he sat calmly, Glock in his hand, dead men over his shoulder, and asked Chernov to describe the genesis of the operation to kidnap Grigori.
    “It was the challenge of a lifetime—at least, that’s how Petrov viewed it. Ivan wanted Bulganov taken from London and brought back to Russia. What’s more, it had to look as if Bulganov came home voluntarily. Otherwise, Ivan’s backers in the Kremlin wouldn’t give him the green light. They didn’t want another battle with the British like the one that followed Litvinenko’s poisoning.”
    “How much?”
    “Twenty million plus expenses, which were going to be substantial. Petrov had done jobs like this when he was with the KGB. He assembled a team of experienced operatives and put together a plan. Everything hinged on getting Bulganov into the car quietly. It couldn’t be a muscle job, not with the CCTV cameras looking over his shoulder. So he tricked Bulganov’s ex-wife into helping him.”
    “Tell me about the people who work for him.”
    “They’re all ex-KGB. And, like Petrov, they’re all very good.”
    “Who pays them?”
    “Petrov takes care of them out of his cut. I hear he’s very generous. He’s never had any trouble with his employees.”
    Chernov had smoked the cigarette to the filter. He drew a last lungful and looked for a place to put the butt. Yaakov took it from Chernov’s fingers and tossed it into the fire. Gabriel refused a request for another cigarette and resumed the questioning.
    “Someone took a wild shot at a Russian journalist the other night in Oxford.”
    “You’re referring to Olga Sukhova?”
    “I am. And I don’t suppose Petrov was there that night.”
    “If he had been, Olga wouldn’t have survived. It was a rush job. He sent a couple of associates to handle it for him.”
    “Where was Petrov?”
    “He was in Italy preparing to kidnap your wife.”
    Gabriel felt another wave of anger. He suppressed it and posed his next question.
    “How did he find us?”
    “He didn’t. The SVR did. They heard rumors you were in hiding in Italy and started leaning on their sources inside the Italian services. Eventually, one of them sold you out.”
    “Do you know who?”
    “Absolutely not.”
    Gabriel didn’t make another run at him. He believed the Russian was telling the truth.
    “What kind of information were you given about me?”
    “Your name and the location of the estate where you were living.”
    “Why did you wait so long to act?”
    “Client’s instructions. The operation against your wife would go forward only if Bulganov’s abduction went smoothly—and only if the client gave a final order to proceed.”
    “When did you receive such an order?”
    “A week after Bulganov was taken.”
    “Did it come from Malensky?”
    “No, it was from the man himself. Ivan called my office in Geneva. In so many words, he made it clear Petrov was to move against the second target.” Chernov paused. “I saw a photograph of your wife, Allon. She’s a remarkably beautiful woman. I’m sorry we had to take her, but business is—”
    Gabriel struck Chernov hard across the face with the Glock, reopening the gash over his eye.
    “Where’s Petrov now?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Gabriel gazed at the fire. “Remember our agreement, Vladimir.”
    “You could peel the flesh from my bones, Allon, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you where he is. I don’t know where he lives, and I don’t know where he is at any given time.”
    “How do you make contact with him?”
    “I don’t. He contacts me.”
    “How?”
    “Telephone. But don’t think about trying to track him. He switches phones constantly and never keeps one for long.”
    “What are your financial arrangements?”
    “Same as the old days in Moscow. The client pays me. I pay him.”
    “Do you launder it through Regency Security?”
    “The Europeans are too