Brewer took a moment to respond. “I’m driving myself to the embassy now, but I’m looking at the map on my phone, trying to figure out where they are going. That part of Knightsbridge has a lot of embassies.” After a moment she said, “Shit. The Peruvian embassy. Their government is tight with the Russians and decidedly anti-American at the moment. They’ll carry Moscow’s water for them.”
“How far from where I am?” He gave her the intersection he passed.
“Five minutes, with traffic. You don’t have much time to stop this.”
“Stop this? No chance you can get any backup on the way to me, is there?”
“I really need you to handle this alone, Romantic.”
Zack then asked, “Wait. You’re in London. You’re in your car, and you’re near the embassy. That’s less than ten minutes from me. Why don’t you get your butt over here?”
“Wait a second, Romantic. I . . . I am not trained for—”
“I need a car to help me tail, box, and extract Wheeler. My vic is blown to the oppo.”
She hesitated. After a moment she said, “Okay, I’m not a field operative, but I’m in Whitehall, less than five minutes away from you, in fact. I can head that way, but only to help with the tail. I don’t have a weapon in my car.”
“C’mon, then. I’m going to break off this tail and go up a side street. Haul ass to the Peruvian embassy. If I can get in front of them I can be waiting for them when they get there.”
“Good.”
“Rules of engagement?” Zack asked.
Brewer said, “Listen up, Romantic. I don’t want them taking him someplace we can’t reach him. I am giving you authority to detain Assistant Deputy Director Marty Wheeler at this time.”
“I’m not gonna ask who gave you the authority to give me the authority to do that, but I am gonna ask you what I’m supposed to do when the Russians protecting him express their displeasure in my actions.”
Brewer replied with, “Only escalate if absolutely necessary. But meet force with equal force.” And then she added, “You have lethal authorization.”
Zack waited no time before giving his response. “Hot diggity damn, Susie! I love it when you talk sexy. Call me when you are a couple minutes out.” And then he touched his earpiece, ending the call.
* * *
• • •
In the passenger van, Marty Wheeler looked down at his shaking hands. He’d so hoped to just slip away, to be a quiet problem for the CIA, the assistant deputy director who one day disappeared in Europe. He’d fantasized about living in luxury in Russia, watching American satellite TV shows about his own disappearance and presumed death.
He’d been looking forward to it since Mr. Black reached out to him months earlier.
But it wasn’t going to happen now; that was obvious. The CIA knew he was the one they’d been looking for; the murder of Deputy Director Renfro had not caused the heat to be turned down on Wheeler, and now the only thing he could do would be to overtly run to the other side, get spirited out of the potential clutches of the Americans, and be whisked off to Russia, where he’d always have to watch his back, worrying about the CIA knowing exactly where to go to settle an old score.
He’d still have the money he made selling secrets to the Chinese, the Iranians, and the enigmatic Englishman who seemed to be laser focused on protecting the interests of a group of Russian oligarchs, as well as a long-dead general whose name had popped up in a CIA printout just days ago and who had seemed to precipitate this entire affair.
He hadn’t a clue what a dead general named Zakharov had to do with all this shit, and he wondered if he’d ever know.
Wheeler first decided to sell secrets to the highest bidder just days after he was moved out of Operations and into Support and then bypassed for the deputy director position there. Matt Hanley, the new deputy director of Operations, had been his friend and his superior officer in Fifth Special Forces Group. They’d served together in Grenada, in Panama, in the Gulf. Wheeler appealed to Hanley to intervene to save him from the move into Support, because even though it was a promotion, leaving Operations would be a career-ender for a guy like Wheeler. He was an Ops man, always would be, and Support was no place for Ops men.