State Of The Union

Harvath began walking toward the front door of the church. “We’re not exactly picking one up. It’s being delivered. Have you ever been to Archangel City before? I’ll buy you di

Alexandra followed him out the door and into the snow. The sun had set and the air had grown bitterly cold. She couldn’t help wondering if the three hours Harvath had spent in the dome of the church hadn’t somehow affected his brain.

Chapter 44

SOMEWHERE OFF THE KOLA PENINSULA, WHITE SEA, RUSSIA

STATE OF THE UNION ADDRESS-2 DAYS

The next day, when Milesch Popov’s name came up on Stavropol’s Caller ID, he thought it must be some kind of a joke. Not only was Popov dead, but the police had found his bullet-riddled cell phone near the crime scene. There was no way it could be him calling. Immediately, Stavropol was on guard. Somehow, someone had co

Stavropol had come to the conclusion that Draegar might no longer be a reliable asset and he would have to do the job himself, as he activated his Sat phone and tentatively took the call. “Da?”

“Comrade General, I hope I am not catching you at an inopportune time,” said the voice on the other end.

Stavropol didn’t need to ask who was calling. He could guess whom the voice belonged the minute he heard the first words. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. It was better than he could have hoped. She was the perfect person to frame as the wayward accomplice who had assisted Popov in killing Primovich, Karganov, and Varensky. “Agent Ivanova. It is a pleasure to hear from you, but how did you get my telephone number?”

Alexandra knew he was toying with her, but had been counseled to play along with him, to an extent. “I removed the SIM card from Milesch Popov’s phone right after he tried to kill me.”

“An unfortunate misunderstanding,” said Stavropol, who had not even thought about the SIM card. When he had gotten a hold of the police report detailing the evidence from the murder scene, including the damaged phone, he had assumed that Popov had taken the secret of their relationship with him to the grave. Obviously, he had been wrong.

“I think the misunderstanding here,” continued Alexandra, “is in your failing to recognize what a useful asset I could prove to be.”

Stavropol smiled. “Now it is you who must forgive me for disbelieving. I am well aware of what your father most likely told you.”

“Indeed. My father told me everything and as far as I am concerned, he was a fool to try and get in your way. He let his misguided feelings overrule his duty and obligation to his country.”

“Very convincing, Agent Ivanova. The SVR has taught you well, though you ca

“What am I doing?”

“You were seen with Dr. Nesterov, as well as the American, Scot Harvath. You have been colluding with them in order to achieve your father’s reckless pursuits.”

“And I told you my father was a fool. I was using Nesterov for bait.”

Stavropol was momentarily taken aback. “Bait?How so?”

“I used him to lure the American.”

“But why? Why get involved at all?”

“Because I was interested in clearing my father’s name. Up until his death, I had only heard rumors and i

Stavropol had suspected as much, but his clean teams had never been able to find anything. There was nothing in Viktor Ivanov’s office or in his residence. “What dossier?”

“My family rented a garden plot outside the city. He buried the dossier there.”

Stavropol was fuming. Therewas a dossier, and his men had missed it. Viktor Ivanov had indeed been a cu

“And that dossier is what led you to General Karganov?” asked Stavropol, trying to put the pieces together.

“As well as Dr. Nesterov.”

“Where is the dossier now?”

“I’ve hidden it somewhere for safekeeping.”

For the most part, the bulk of the dossier’s contents would soon be immaterial, but there were still ways in which they could be very damaging. The file needed to be buried for good and Alexandra Ivanova along with it, but until she was, Stavropol had no choice but to deal with her. “Why are we talking?” he asked.

It was time for Alexandra to make her case. “We each have something the other wants.”

Stavropol laughed. “What could you possibly have that I would want?”

She wasted no time in getting to the point. “An American operative on Russian soil with a tactical nuclear weapon. Surely, you would like to have this man and his weapon in your custody.”

There were several moments of strained silence as Stavropol thought it over. Though he was loathe to negotiate with her, it seemed that she alone had the power to deliver him the prize that had eluded them on the Baltic and caused the loss of two of their patrol boats-an American agent who had smuggled a nuclear weapon into their country. He didn’t trust Alexandra Ivanova one bit, but she was dangling a very attractive carrot that was hard to resist.

Ever the tactician, Stavropol kept talking as his mind worked to develop a plan to gain the upper hand. “You said we each had something the other wanted. What is it you desire from me?”

Alexandra stuck to the script, just as Harvath had laid it out for her. “First, forgiveness. Though my father’s actions were wrong, his motivations were correct. He placed his country above all else and for that I want his name cleared. He is to get a proper burial with full recognition for his loyalty and years of service to Mother Russia.”

“What else?”

“Next, I want your personal guarantee, in writing, that I will be publicly recognized for my cooperation and loyalty.”

“That’s all?” asked Stavropol.

“No, that’s not all. In addition, I want a promotion within the SVR, to at least deputy director, complete with commensurate pay grade, a new apartment, and a new automobile.”

“Capitalism rears its ugly head at last.”

“No, it has not,” replied Alexandra. “While I support our country’s long overdue return to Communism, I also believe that outstanding service to the State should be rewarded. But if you do not agree with me, I’d be happy to release Agent Harvath and his nuclear weapon and let you try to retake him before the Americans have executed whatever it is they are pla

This time Stavropol didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely not,” he replied. If Ivanova really was prepared to deliver on her offer, Stavropol couldn’t afford to let her go. “Where are you?”

“Archangel city,” she replied.

Stavropol told her to hold, while he cupped the mouthpiece and consulted one of the men standing next to him. There was no time for him to go to her. She would have to come to him. He gave her a time and directions to a location just outside the seaside village of Tova, about 150 kilometers up the coast from Archangel City, and then unceremoniously terminated the co