Enigma (FBI Thriller 21)

“Yes, his accent was so heavy I was tempted to say da, but I stuck to mimicking the dead man’s voice, said as little as I could. If he knew I wasn’t the dead guy, he didn

’t let on. He said to be sure to bury the burner with Bowler’s body somewhere neither would be found. He ended the call telling me the other half of my money would be mailed to my P.O. box. Then he hung up.”

Jack said, “So Petrov believes he’s safe; he’s cut all the loose threads, killed both the pilot and Bowler. But guys, who is Cortina Alvarez?”

Cam grinned. “Maybe we’ll find her on the same passenger manifest as Petrov’s to and from Moscow.”

There were forty-seven women on the passenger manifest of Aeroflot 104, leaving Moscow in the morning and arriving at Dulles in the early afternoon. None of them were named Cortina Alvarez, but one of them—Elena Orlov—listed Petrov’s address in Moscow.

“That’s it; that nails it,” Cam said.

Ollie read out, “Elena Orlov is thirty-four, five feet six inches, one hundred twenty-five pounds, purpose of visit listed as business. She matches Kim Harbinger’s description of the second person with Manta Ray at the national forest.”

Savich looked up from MAX’s screen. “The CIA’s file on Sergei Petrov lists him as an officer of the Transvolga Group, an investment firm that’s a partial subsidiary of Bank Rossiya. And would you look at this—the second largest shareholder of the Transvolga Group is Boris Petrov, Sergei’s father.” Savich scrolled another minute on MAX, then: “The Bank Rossiya was pegged by the Treasury Department as providing material support to Russian officials, meaning they serve as personal investment bankers for all the millions of dollars the kleptocrats steal from the Russian people—including senior officers of the Russian Federation, and Putin himself.”

Cam cocked her head. “So father and son are important Russian bankers. How does that fit in?”

“Another moment, Cam,” Savich said, still typing. He sat back. “Boris Petrov, Sergei’s father, was included along with dozens of other Russians in the sanctions the Treasury Department issued under the president’s executive orders of 2014 and 2015. You remember, the sanctions have been in place since Russia annexed Crimea and sent its military into eastern Ukraine last year. The people under the sanctions can’t do business in the United States, can’t access financial markets, had billions of dollars of their assets frozen. As a result, the Russian economy fell into a recession, the ruble and stock market dropped, and there was massive capital flight from the country. More than two thousand millionaires left Russia. The individuals sanctioned aren’t even allowed to travel to the U.S. or to Europe.”

Cam said, “You’re saying Sergei’s father was sanctioned?”

Savich nodded. “Big-time. More than one hundred million dollars of his personal investments are frozen, and the Transvolga Group lost much more—they were put virtually out of business. That includes a great deal of money belonging to very powerful Russian officials.”

Ruth said, “So we’ve sanctioned the bankers who invest a lot of the communist big wigs’ money and put a big dent in Putin’s pocketbook.”

Savich nodded. “I’ve got to think some powerful Russians are very angry at the Petrovs for not protecting them. And now Sergei Petrov is in the country because his father can’t be. The question is what he’s up to.”

Jack called out, “Here’s something on Elena Orlov. Her father is a mid-level manager at—guess where—the Transvolga Group in Moscow. She’s an only child, educated in Switzerland, where she became proficient in four languages, then returned to Russia. She entered the Military Educational and Scientific Center, but dropped out after a year. She’s been on Sergei Petrov’s staff for ten years, listed as his bodyguard. According to her file, she’s also his lover.”

Ollie looked at her photo, said under his breath, “She’s very beautiful, puts a new twist on the concept of bodyguard.”

Ruth punched him. “Ollie, pay attention. The man you spoke to on the burner phone with the thick Russian accent, I wonder if he could be one of Petrov’s muscle. There could be more of them.”

Jack said, “And I’ll bet we find some of his flunkies with him at the Arcturus address on the Potomac.”

Ruth gave herself a head slap. “I just realized. That name Detective Ben Raven found in Mia Prevost’s address book—Cortina Alvarez, a woman who doesn’t really exist. That’s it, isn’t it? Cortina and Elena are the same woman. Now she may be dead along with the pilot in that helicopter crash today. But how does it all fit together?”

Shirley, the CAU secretary, stuck her head in the conference room. “Dillon, Mr. Saxon Hainny is here to see you.”

Savich rose, picked up the photo of Petrov that Ollie had printed out. “I’ll be back as soon as Saxon tells us it’s Petrov for sure.”

Savich quietly closed his office door. Saxon was sitting in front of his desk, his hands clasped between his legs, staring down at his scruffy sneakers. He still looked beaten down, folded in on himself.

“Thank you for coming, Saxon.” Savich handed him the black-and-white copy of Petrov’s passport photo. “Is this the man you saw standing behind Mia Prevost the night she was murdered?”

Saxon seemed to stop breathing. He stared at the photo and back at Savich. “Yes, those are his eyes, I remember them, staring at me and talking to her, to Mia. It was like I was nothing at all. And his hair, see how it looks like a sharp spear on his forehead? Yes, that’s him.”

“You’re absolutely certain?”

“Yes, Agent Savich. It’s him.” There was life in his face, at least for the moment, the deadly pallor gone, his eyes no longer deadened with pain. “How did you find him?”

“You gave us an excellent description of him, Saxon. We found him on an inbound flight to Washington from Moscow. If you’d never remembered seeing him, it would have been very difficult.” He laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Now that you’ve confirmed his identity, we can bring him in.”

“What’s his name?”

“Sergei Petrov. He and his father are personal investment bankers to Putin and some other Russian plutocrats.”

Saxon looked blank. “He’s a banker? But why would a banker want to set me up for Mia’s murder?” Saxon began to laugh. “He hired Mia to get close to my father, didn’t he?”