Prime Minister Shoret’s Residence
21:12 (18:12 GMT)
The bottle made a thud on the bar after Oleg poured himself a drink. He shot the liquid back and poured another.
“It angers me that I can no longer get my favorite vodka.”
The raunchy liquid burned a trail down his throat as he strolled over to Aleksandr, who sat on the couch next to the fireplace. Oleg stopped and placed his drink on the mantle.
“We have a problem.”
Aleksandr took a drag on his cigarette, “What problem? Were you not able to find the codes for the weapon?”
“Those were in his tablet, just as I predicted. We were able to bring the weapons on-line and run the targeting sequence perfectly. This is a different problem.”
“Then what is it?”
“It seems that we have a spy in our midst.”
Aleksandr’s eyes widened, “From Solonovich? Has he found out?”
“No, an American. His name is Blake Mackay.”
Aleksandr stubbed out his cigarette and sprung to his feet up. “How do you know this?”
Oleg smiled and shook his head. “I have my sources. Trust me when I say that they are very credible. He saw us last night when we met al Hamwi. But do not worry, I have a plan.”
Aleksandr couldn’t help but voice his concern. He asked again, but firmer, “He was there? How much does he know? What is your plan? You must be straight with me Oleg. Do not keep me in the dark!”
Oleg sensed the fear and concern in his comrade’s voice. “Fair enough. I have a source deep inside the U.S. intelligence.”
“Who is it? What are you going to do?” Aleksandr asked.
Oleg waved him off. “It is better that you don’t know. Besides, I have put a plan in motion. I have allowed for this American spy to attend our party here tomorrow night.”
“What? Are you mad? You can’t—”
Oleg put his hand up. “On the contrary, that is exactly what I am going to do. We are the spider and he is the proverbial fly.”
“You’re setting a trap?”
“Indeed, I am.”
“What is it?”
“He will arrive tomorrow evening as Dan Peart from Canada. At some point, I expect him to slip away and sneak in here. I will put some information in a file on my computer. I’ll even make it easy for him to find. And when he does—we simply come in and get him. Problem solved.” Oleg drank the last of his vodka, looked at the empty glass and went back to the bar.
Aleksandr nervously fished out a cigarette and lit it. “How did he find out? Suppose there are others?”
“There aren’t. This agent was tracking al Hamwi and stumbled on to our plan. My contact in America has been trying to get rid of him for weeks, but this agent keeps surviving his traps.”
“Then what makes you think we can handle him?” Aleksandr asked
Oleg laughed and said, “Because the others were stupid fools. They underestimated him. We will not. We know he’s coming. Once we get him, we’ll press him for any information that he knows and then we’ll shoot him in the head. Done and finished. Any other questions?”
Aleksandr shook his head and took another drag off his cigarette.
“Good. Now go home. We have a big day tomorrow.”
After Aleksandr left, Oleg turned on his computer and created a folder several layers deep and put in a few files for the American spy to see; nothing that would give him detailed information, but just enough to make him think that he hit the jackpot and throw him off the trail. When he was finished, he went and poured himself another vodka. Oleg sipped slowly and closed his eyes. He smiled and went back to his computer. Leaning over the keyboard, he renamed the file.