He put his hand on her shoulder. It was a gentle touch, but his eyes and his words conveyed a different attitude.
“So, my darling, do not test me.”
Zoya felt like a child being admonished. Meekly she asked again, “What is this all about?”
“It’s about your mother, your brother, and you. It’s about the Five Eyes attacking me . . . personally. And now, my dear, it’s about my personal retribution.”
“So this operation has no sanction,” she said.
Zakharov pulled his shoulders back. “I have sanction!” he shouted. “That’s all that matters. Moscow will benefit, but I take orders from no one.”
Zoya couldn’t believe it. He was insane. “You’re off reservation. A rogue agent.”
Zakharov gave his daughter a look of disappointment. “You’ve met Mr. Fox here. He studied under your mother in Moscow. Very much a Russian, he has infiltrated the fabric of life here in the United Kingdom. He is one of a dozen sleepers still active, after all these years, many working within Scotland Yard, the intelligence services, even at Whitehall.”
Fox said, “Your mother was a remarkable woman. Of all my trainers, no one did more to give me the tools to remain alive and operational over here for all these years.”
Zakharov said, “He will oversee your care, because I have much to do, both back in London and at our destination. I will see you again very soon, Zoya. We will talk more then about what it is you want out of this life of yours.”
“Where is he taking me?”
“Not far, in the scheme of things. You’ll see.” And with that he turned and walked out of the room. Zoya wanted to call out to him, but she couldn’t make a sound.
She didn’t know what she’d expected, but what she had just learned was almost too much to process. Whatever he was doing, whatever his plan, it was obviously more important to him than she was.
Fox led Zoya and the men holding on to her arms out the door and back towards the waiting helicopter. As she was getting strapped in, she saw her father’s big black helo lifting off from the perfect lawn a hundred meters away, turning on its axis, and then dipping its nose towards London. It disappeared over Vladimir Belyakov’s mansion moments later.
CHAPTER 43
The benefit to Court Gentry of having Sir Donald Fitzroy working for him as a technical asset, even if it was just for a few hours, was that Fitzroy could produce virtually any piece of gear he wanted simply by pulling it out of a drawer somewhere in his home. The man had collected more than a half century’s worth of the tools of spycraft, and much of it was still modern enough to employ effectively. Fitz selected a pair of tiny listening devices, both with encrypted wireless connection and remote power switches, and while Court could tell they relied on fifteen-year-old technology, he could also see they’d been well kept and therefore remained good enough for his purposes.
This was all the gear Fitzroy needed to go to his club in Westminster shortly before three p.m., enter the quiet room off the main hall where Cassidy liked to do business, and position the bugs for maximum effect. He hid one on the top of a curio cabinet and out of view and taped the other to the bottom of the table in the center of the small room, on the side where Fitzroy had seen Cassidy sitting when Fitzroy would glance in passing by the open door from time to time.
He left the equipment on the “off” setting, then headed into the men’s lounge to order a brandy and read the paper in an overstuffed leather chair.
Terry Cassidy showed up alone just fifteen minutes later and came into the lounge holding his briefcase to say hello to some acquaintances. Fitzroy barely knew the younger man, so he looked at his paper, opened and closed the three remaining fingers on his right hand to combat the phantom pains he felt from the two missing ones, and waited patiently. Soon Cassidy had mingled sufficiently, so he slipped back out into the hall. Fitzroy followed him out with his eyes and saw the forty-something heading towards his usual room, pulling a small transistor-radio-looking device from his case as he walked.
Fitzroy recognized it as a store-bought bug detector, and he breathed a sigh of relief that the solicitor had not upgraded his tech since the last time Fitzroy noticed it.