Codenamed Matterhorn, Artur Kopec was one of America’s greatest weapons against the Russians.
He was a double agent. He worked for Poland, but his deeper loyalty was to his paymasters in Russia. Over the years, he had grown rich feeding Moscow sensitive intelligence, particularly about NATO and its member states.
Reed Carlton had uncovered him, but instead of turning Kopec in, he had convinced the United States to turn the Polish spy to their advantage.
The two had worked together on multiple allied assignments and had developed a strong affinity for each other. There was even trust between them. But once the Pole’s duplicity had become known, all of that was over.
Carlton being Carlton, the experienced spymaster had figured out a way to use their friendship to his advantage. Not only did he maintain his relationship with Kopec but he also continued to share information with him.
For the plan to be successful, though, the information had to be authentic and, at times, even damaging to NATO and the West. It was the only way to ensure that Moscow continued to place high value on the intel the Pole gave them. Which was exactly what had happened.
Kopec was considered a source of such high quality that eventually his reporting was briefed directly to the Russian President himself. He was their “golden bird.” Carlton had built a covert pipeline right into the Kremlin.
It was quite a feat. But Carlton hadn’t stopped there.
In an effort to rattle the Russians and to erode confidence in their sources, he had leaked the existence of Matterhorn. It wasn’t anything in great detail, simply that a high-level Western asset being run by Russian intelligence as a double agent was actually a triple, feeding them bogus information.
It drove the Russians crazy. None of their intelligence operatives knew who had the rotten source. They wasted countless man-hours interrogating their assets, fraying relationships, and creating an all-around toxic environment of distrust and suspicion.
The best thing about it was that Kopec didn’t even know he was being used. No matter how many times his handler had quizzed him, his answers had never wavered. No one in Russian intelligence had any reason to distrust him.
So, having survived the crucible, Matterhorn had become even more valuable to both Russia and the United States.
This meant that whatever Nicholas decided to do with him, he had to be very careful.
“Wait,” the little man had said, confused. “How is this my call?”
In addition to the binder on Matterhorn, McGee had removed one additional item from the safe—an envelope with McGee’s name on it.
Inside was a cover letter from Ryan, along with a sheaf of legal documents signed by Reed Carlton.
Nicholas had always assumed that if anything happened to Lydia Ryan, leadership of the organization would pass to Scot Harvath. And if anything happened to Harvath, control would pass to the company’s Chief Financial Officer.
Based on the documents McGee now showed him, he had been right on the first two candidates in the line of succession, but when it came to the third, Carlton had someone much different from the CFO in mind.
Nicholas was stunned. “He wanted me to take charge? Of all this?”
“He obviously thought you were up to the task.”
Nicholas didn’t know what to say. He didn’t actually need to say anything. Carlton had shown tremendous faith in him. McGee knew Nicholas wouldn’t disappoint any of them—especially Harvath, whose life depended on the decisions they needed to make.
The moment Nicholas had revealed that Kopec had been at the safe house, McGee had his answer to who had been behind the attack. It was the Russians. He was certain of it. But before he could move forward, they needed proof, and Kopec was the key.
Nicholas and McGee had then discussed strategies, some more radical than others. Each posed considerable risk.
In the end, Nicholas chose the least elegant but most direct path. They didn’t have time to screw around. Harvath was worth a thousand Matterhorns.
Now, here he was, face-to-face with Kopec—two master craftsmen, skilled in the art of deception.
Nicholas, with his short, dark hair and close-cropped beard, stared at the jowly, clean-shaven Pole, with his white hair and bulbous nose.
Physically, they couldn’t have been more different, but appetite-wise, they had much in common, which was exactly how Nicholas had lured him out into the open.
As a diplomat, discretion was top of the list for someone like Kopec. With only a couple of hours of hacking, Nicholas had been able to learn that in addition to being overweight, the Pole