“She will testify, you know. A young Russian woman who comes to the United States to work.”
Suddenly Brian didn’t know why he was arguing. Screw ’em all, the NSA, the FBI, the Tailored Access pukes, every last one of them. Including Becks. Especially Becks. Irlov thought he was blackmailing? Please. Brian’s whole life was blackmail. His whole life had led him here, marrying Rebecca, lucking his way into a job where he felt like a loser every day.
Whatever offer Irlov made, Brian knew he was going to take it. At least the SVR thought he was worth setting up.
You want me to spy for you? When do I start?
“This tape isn’t just a matter of your marriage or your job—”
“I get it. So what now.”
Irlov looked confused. Brian recognized the feeling from long ago, those rare nights when after a single drink the girl had simply said, Come on, let’s go. The game was supposed to be harder.
And Irlov was right. He ought to fight back. He was about to sell out his homeland.
But hell. The war was only virtual, right? Software. Video games, pretty much. Lines on a screen. They wouldn’t ask him for the names of any agents. He didn’t know any.
Irlov shook his head, This is too easy. “That’s it? You don’t insist on your rights?”
“What rights?”
Irlov gave him a slow, careful appraisal. “Easiest recruitment in history?” His nostrils flared. “Are you sure you’re not Russian?”
I’m not anything, Brian thought. But he just stared at Irlov. Odd, now that he’d agreed, he felt every bit the man’s equal.
“Good,” Irlov said. “Then it goes away.”
“In return?”
“You can imagine.”
Brian could. The details of Tailored Access programs, and not just against Russia. The tricks the NSA used to protect its own computers. Maybe they’d even ask him to smuggle programs off the NSA campus.
He wondered how they’d found him, then knew—
“The Peppermint, right? Not too far from Fort Meade, somebody there watching for guys like me? Runs our plates against a reader you put near the agency. But you have to get a different girl, who cares what a stripper says.”
“If you say so.”
“I have to tell you, she’s very good, Eve, whatever her name is. Do I get to see her again?” The most foolish thing he’d said. But he still wanted her.
“If you are very good, maybe.”
“So no.”
Irlov wrinkled his nose, Don’t be stupid. “Of course no. It would only make problems. I must tell you. We know about your financial—concerns.”
Brian didn’t ask how. “Yes those.”
“We can help.”
“How’s that? I inherit a million dollars from my deadbeat dad. My wife won’t fall for that. Even NSA counterintel won’t fall for that.”
“Of course.” Irlov pulled up a fresh screen on the laptop, filled with lines of code. “Don’t you write apps like every other coder, the next Angry Birds?”
“Sometimes.” Though not in years.
“Now, success.” Irlov clicked a couple of keys and a sample app booted up, virtual cards fanning across a virtual blackjack table. “It’s called Twenty-One. For gambling. Casino locations, payouts, what machines are running hot, all the games. For play money.”
“I did that?”
“You did. Now you sell it.”
“The money’s clean?”
“What do you think, we wire from the Kremlin?” Irlov shook his head. “It comes through a consulting company run by a nice American. No vodka anywhere. Plus, why would anyone care? NSA doesn’t care if you code on the side, nothing to do with the agency. You sold it, congratulations. Hard work pays off. Legal money. You even pay tax on it.”
“The American dream.”
“So how much?”
Irlov was eager to seal the deal. No surprise. The NSA had plenty of secrets, and Brian had access to the best. He considered. A million? A million was a nice round number.
He looked at the laptop that held his past and future. No going back. He might as well get paid.
“Two million dollars.”
“Greedy.” Irlov laughed.
“After taxes it’s barely a million. Yes or no.”
“For two million you tell us about your wife too.”
Talk about getting even with Becks. Best part was that she’d love this money. “Done and done.”
“Two million, then,” Irlov said. “Half in six months, the rest next year.”
“Six months?”
“Your wife has to see you working hard, yes? Writing the app, going to a conference—”
“She doesn’t care.”
“She’s not stupid, she pays attention.”
I didn’t say she was stupid, I said she didn’t care.
“NSA pays attention too. I give you the money now, it just goes to legal fees after they arrest you.” Irlov closed the laptop. “Are you sure you don’t