Casey handed him a folder.
East opened the dossier and saw a blurry surveillance photograph of himself at London’s Gatwick Airport. He turned the page to a report on the assassination of a British businessman named Bav Malik. It had several graphic images attached. East sped-read the document without showing any outward signs of emotion. After this came an image taken by a camera in an Austrian restaurant; this one was clearer and showed him wearing glasses and enjoying a drink with a beautiful woman. East felt his pulse race at the sight of her. He turned to another report. It was written in Ukrainian, a language he didn’t speak, and contained images of a second corpse – Jas Malik, Bav Malik’s son. East raised his eyes and saw an odd smile on Casey’s face.
‘I know what you are, but not who you are, James.’
‘What am I, Mr Casey?’
‘I think you are a contract killer. Possibly former Spetsnaz, gone freelance.’
‘Is that the official belief of the FBI?’
‘Did I say I was with the FBI?’
‘You didn’t say who you were with.’
‘Touché! I’m the only one who has this opinion, James. That’s why we’re having this conversation. You did a noble thing; you eliminated an Al-Qaeda sleeper cell – one we missed. You saved the lives of countless civilians.’
‘Do I get a medal?’
‘No medal, James. There are those who want to know more about you, the FBI included, and this file will come to light eventually. Unless I bury or lose it. I could potentially use someone like you, if you are what I think you are. I’m offering you a chance. I can protect you from all of this, the wolves here in the US, and Interpol, but in order to do that I need you to be honest with me. You are not James East. I need to know exactly who you are and what you were doing in New Jersey.’
East made a decision. ‘My name is Sergey Gorodetski, and I was shopping.’
There was a moment of silence as Casey held eye contact with Gorodetski before he replied. ‘The funny thing is, Sergey, I believe you. So, Russian or Russian speaker?’
‘Russian.’
Casey tapped the file with his index finger. ‘And so to this. Why did you assassinate these two British citizens?’
‘What guarantee do I have that you are not taping this? That you will not turn me over to the Feds for rendition to the UK?’
‘That’s a fair point.’ Casey took a Glock 19 from his jacket and placed it on the bedside table. He turned it so the grip was within the Russian’s reach. ‘Here, take it, it’s loaded. You have my trust, Sergey, and I hope I have yours.’
Gorodetski slowly reached for the gun and was surprised to see that Casey didn’t flinch. He aimed the sidearm at the American, felt the weight, and then carefully lowered it. ‘It’s loaded.’
‘I told you it was.’
‘I could have killed you.’
‘You still can, if you want. I’m a good judge of character, Sergey, and I know you won’t. Call me romantic – my ex-wife doesn’t – but I know who you are… on the inside. I can tell. You’re not a stone-cold killer. So enlighten me, ease my confusion, and tell me. Why did you assassinate that father and son, Jas and Bav Malik?’
‘I was of the belief they murdered my brother.’
Casey was surprised. ‘And did they?’
‘No.’ Gorodetski pushed the Glock back. ‘They were innocent. I murdered them. I am a killer. I deserve a bullet to the brain.’
‘I could shoot you, but I won’t. I think I can use you, if you agree.’
‘I agree.’
Casey smirked. ‘Tell me more; treat this as a confession, not to a policeman but to a priest. Why did you believe these two men killed your brother?’
Gorodetski took a breath and recounted what he had been told was the truth. ‘In 1989 my brother, Mikhail, was in the Red Army. His commanding officer said their unit was attacked by Mujahideen outside Kabul. Mikhail was wounded, captured, then tortured before being dismembered. Much later his CO told me he had found two of my brother’s killers. They were living respectable lives with British passports.’
‘Did you find the real murderer?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you kill him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who was he?’
‘Mikhail’s commanding officer.’
‘How did that make you feel?’
‘Empty.’
‘I see.’
‘I was fooled, but that is no excuse. I executed two innocent men. There is not a night that goes by without me seeing their faces.’
‘We all make mistakes, Sergey – just ask my wife.’ Gorodetski scanned his fingers for a ring. There was none. ‘Exactly. Some mistakes are big, some small, and some monumental. I can give you a second chance, which no one else can; a chance to make a difference. Not many get that.’
‘Why should I believe you? You have thousands of SEALs or Delta or Rangers or Activity guys to choose from.’
‘Good question. I’m Agency. What I do, Sergey, is black – blacker than black. You could call it “Cold Black” – global counterterrorism. There are only four other men who know I have you, and one of those you kicked in the nuts. I get to choose my men, use Agency resources, and not get questioned. However, and this is where you come in, regardless of what you read in the press or see on WikiLeaks, we do not have unlimited resources – human or otherwise. In short, when the Cold War ended our threat radar was moved to point at the Middle East. Langley didn’t see a need for Soviet speakers, let alone native Russian-speaking operatives. But then Russia invaded Georgia, and then they annexed Crimea, and then they shot down a passenger jet while invading Eastern Ukraine. Langley made a mistake and I had a problem. I was thinking about how I could fix it when you appeared.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t go getting any grandiose ideas; it was coincidence not serendipity. Are you a patriot?’
‘To Russia?’
‘Who else?’
‘The people, yes. The country, perhaps. The Kremlin? No.’
‘That’s very good to hear, if you mean it. I need to assess you and, even if, after that, you were to pass, you’d be strictly on probation. Make a mistake or step out of line and this file gets updated and sent along with you on a one-way ticket to London. Or, failing that, perhaps I throw you in the nearest river; it all depends on whether I’ve had a bad day or not.’
Gorodetski allowed himself
