Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

O SLOFJORD

N ORWAY

In the age-old tradition of how Russians built trust, Grechko picked up the bottle from the dining room table and poured them each another shot of vodka.

"Za zda-ró-vye," the man said.

Harvath clinked his small glass against his and replied, "Za zda-ró-vye."

They had a decision to make. Remaining at the cottage was not an option. Eventually, the Norwegians were going to find them. Once that happened, there was no way of knowing how far behind the next team of assassins were. The attack on the safehouse in Oslo had been so massive, Harvath didn't doubt there'd be more to come. Grechko didn't doubt it either. But he also knew he had leverage at this moment. He didn't intend to waste it.

"Explain to me," the Russian said, "if we go with your plan, how you see all of this playing out?"

"I contact the CIA station chief in Oslo, she sends a team down here to pick us up, and we all go back to the U.S. Embassy compound."

"And what does your fiancée tell her people at the Norwegian Intelligence Service?"

"As little as possible," Harvath replied. "Until she gets to the bottom of who the leaker is, it's the only way to keep you safe."

"Which you believe you can do at your embassy."

Harvath nodded.

"Let me ask you something, Mr. Harvath. If the Norwegian Intelligence Service has a mole, what makes you believe that your embassy doesn't?"

It was a fair enough question, but it was a hypothetical that could be applied to any organization. "Right now, I think it's the safest place we can put you. We'll limit who knows you're on-site. The fewer people in the loop, the better."

"And then what?" Grechko asked. "An embassy isn't a hotel. If yours has a medical unit, maybe you've got one or two hospital beds. Or perhaps there are a few army cots that have been tucked away someplace in case of a crisis. Not exactly a sustainable solution."

"Our first objective is to keep you alive. We can worry about everything else later."

"If by later you're envisioning whisking me off to the United States, I'm not interested."

Harvath smiled. "You'd be the first Russian I ever met who wasn't."

"Do you know why I chose Norway to defect to?"

"Besides the ease of crossing its shared border with Russia?"

"That was a definite advantage," Grechko admitted. "But it wasn't my main reason."

"Then what was?"

"Norway is one of the most robust democracies in the world. It respects the rights of its citizens, its journalists, and the rule of law. Elections here are free and fair. The Norwegian government stands up for what it believes in and keeps its word. In every meaningful way, this country is the exact opposite of Russia."

"All things the United States offers too. Plus, we can give you more agreeable winters and much better beaches."

Now it was Grechko's turn to smile. "I'm well aware. I did a fair bit of traveling when I was based at the Russian Embassy in Washington. America has many things going for it, but in the end, Norway is where I want to be."

"I understand. In the short term, I still think the U.S. Embassy compound is the safest place for you. After that, maybe—and it's a big maybe—if you're willing to cooperate and share information with the CIA, we might be able to help establish a safehouse somewhere for you. At least until the Norwegian Intelligence Service is able to fully reassert control over your security."

The Russian thought about it for a moment, a plan beginning to take shape in his mind. "What if we split the difference?"

Harvath wasn't sure he understood what the man meant. "That would depend. What are you thinking?"

"I'll agree to a temporary CIA safehouse, but I get to pick the location."

Harvath laughed. "That's not how it works."

"And my deal with the Norwegians has to change."

"Change how?" asked S?lvi. She had been sitting in the living room monitoring the TV for updates. Coverage of the attack in Oslo was on every channel.

"My bonus," Grechko responded as she walked into the dining room. "I want it up front."

"The bonus is yours if you fully cooperate. It's an incentive. That's why it comes at the end. We're going to need surveillance, new passports, transportation… It's going to take an entire team to make it happen. For the moment, I'm all you've got."

"Technically," the Russian corrected her, pointing at Harvath, "you've also got him, in addition to whatever resources the CIA is willing to contribute."

Harvath looked at S?lvi. "What's he talking about? What bonus?"

"It's not a what," she replied. "It's a who. Her name is Inessa Surkova and it's going to be a nightmare getting to her."

"Russia?"

S?lvi shook her head. "South of France. But he's insistent it look like an accident. He wants to be absolutely certain no one ever comes looking for her."

"If you do this," Grechko said, addressing him, "I promise I will make it worth your while."

"Hold on," Harvath stated. "I haven't agreed to do anything. The only thing we're talking about is getting you someplace secure."

"Then let's make it a safehouse in the South of France. It gets us out of Norway and my debriefing can run simultaneous with planning the Inessa operation, for which you need me on the ground, in person."

This was getting out of control, fast. "All of this is above my pay grade," said Harvath. "Your arrangement is with Norway. They expect you to honor your end. Any change will have to be approved by her." As he pointed at S?lvi, he continued. "And any contribution I, or my country makes, is going to have to be approved by the CIA. That's who compensates me. I don't want or expect anything from you."

"Then we'll consider it a bonus," Grechko responded. "An incentive, provided at the end of the operation, to ensure your performance."

"Again," Harvath stated, "that's not necessary. The CIA will make sure I'm covered."

"The CIA can't give you what I'm offering."

"What's that?"

"An opportunity to repair an oversight."

"What oversight?"

"When you took revenge for the murder of your wife, you went straight to the top," the Russian stated. "You inflicted maximum pain on President Peshkov via his son, Misha. You also killed the head of the GRU's special missions group, the man who masterminded your kidnapping and the death of your wife and colleagues, General Konstantin Minayev."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Peshkov's son died of a drug overdose and General Minayev by autoerotic asphyxiation. If memory serves, he was found to be in possession of some very disturbing pornography."

"Quite," Grechko agreed. "These were good and, dare I say, righteous acts that you committed. But while they went a long way to evening the score, I imagine nothing would ever make you feel as if the debt had been completely paid."

Harvath was beginning to dislike this conversation, intensely. He could feel the heat and the anger he kept locked away inside himself starting to seep out. "If you've got a point to make, make it," he stated.

"You didn't finish the job. You missed one."

"And who was that?"

"Someone who worked for Minayev. This person helped assemble, coordinate, and dispatch the team that killed your wife and your colleagues and took you hostage."

"If I didn't know any better," Harvath replied, "I might think you were referring to a certain GRU colonel named Josef Kozak. But shortly after being admitted to Moscow City Hospital Number 67 for complicated spinal surgery, that colonel died in his bed of a heart attack."

Grechko smiled wryly. "Yes, all of those unfortunate incidents. Back-to-back-to-back. All of them befalling prominent Russians directly or indirectly connected to what happened to you. But as I said, you missed one—someone between Minayev the planner and Kozak the team leader who carried out the operation. So, here's my proposition. Get me to Inessa Surkova and I will not only give you the missing man's name, but I'll also tell you how to find him."