Hudson said nothing.
“Karl left a trail only I could follow. He led me to the basement that revealed he was a spy. I’ve got to believe he wants me to know the truth. If he knew Minerva’s identity, he would have left a clue, something I could use, something only I would recognize,” Jack said.
“We’ve got people working on this,” Hudson assured him.
“I don’t know who they are or who they report to,” Jack replied. “But I do know my team and I trust them with my life. I’d like two phones and a couple of computers please. Miss Orlova and I need to get to work.”
CHAPTER 98
MAINSTREAM MEDIA OUTLETS all over America had run the story of me fleeing Moscow as a murder suspect. Russian authorities had given interviews portraying themselves as the victims of a coordinated conspiracy, and painting me as the villain. The Russian ambassador to Washington had lodged a formal protest demanding my immediate return to Moscow to face justice. Justine had emailed me the worst articles, so I could gauge the threat to Private, and they were currently open on the laptop John Hudson had given me.
“It’s not good, Jack,” Justine said over the speakerphone. “We lost TradeBank.”
TradeBank was a big client. Jessie Fleming had been leading a team out of Private’s New York office, investigating a possible financial fraud by organized criminals making use of the bank’s overseas branches.
“They said they can’t afford more scandal,” Justine revealed.
I sighed. “I’m going to have to quit Private,” I said. “At least until—”
“Don’t you say another word,” Mo-bot cut in.
She and Justine were in the New York office, poring over the huge data dump they’d shared with us. Everything we could pull on Karl Parker.
“You quit and everyone will think you have something to hide,” Mo-bot said. “And predators never go easy on a wounded animal.”
“I’m gambling everything,” I replied. “I’m putting all your livelihoods at risk.”
“Do the right thing for the right reasons, Jack Morgan,” Mo-bot said. “And we’ll back you all the way.”
I looked at Dinara, who sat across the aisle, studying files on the laptop Hudson had given her. She glanced up and nodded.
“Don’t let them win,” she said.
“OK,” I responded reluctantly. “But this can’t go on much longer.”
“Did you check the diary?” Dinara asked.
She turned the computer to reveal one of the crime-scene photos taken of Karl’s basement, which had been shared with Private by the NYPD before they’d stopped cooperating. I recalled the blank desk diary that had been lying beside the false passports and stacks of foreign currency.
“Yes,” I replied. “It was blank.”
I was struck by a thought. What if we weren’t supposed to look in the diary? What if the diary itself was a message?
“Have you been through his appointments?” I asked.
“We’ve checked his schedule for the past three years, and everything going forward,” Justine replied. “It’s in the folder marked ‘Admin.’”
Dinara went through the zip files we’d been sent via the high-speed satellite link and found Karl Parker’s digital calendar in the admin folder. She started flicking through the daily planner, and I saw something that made me lean forward suddenly.
“Go back,” I said.
“What is it?” Mo-bot asked.
John Hudson stood up and came round the table to peer at the screen.
“What have you seen?” Dinara asked.
I pointed at a diary entry. A midday lunch with Ann Kavanagh, the CEO of a company called Enterprise Web Services. The meal was scheduled to take place tomorrow.