Hanley shook his head at the absurdity of it.

Holly said, “Not long after that Zakharov turned up dead in Dagestan. We have the photos of his body.”

Hanley shook his head. “Doctored. We have multisource confirmation.”

“What sort of confirmation? What sources?”

“Sorry,” Hanley said.

Holly let it go. “If the father is alive, I am sure he knows it wasn’t a British op at all, it was his own Russian op that went wobbly because they didn’t use a bloody trained courier to get the radioactive isotope into the British Isles. It was a tragedy for the young lad, no question, but I can tell you all of us in MI6 were bloody pleased that that bomb detonated prematurely, in a manner of speaking.”

Hanley sat up, his hands on his knees. “Well . . . now it seems Zakharov is working with a Korean expert in weaponized plagues.”

Holly blinked hard. “That fishing trip is looking more and more enticing. Fancy going with me? Now?”

The understated English humor wasn’t lost on Hanley, but he was already thinking about his next steps. He just looked off a moment.

Holly said, “What can we do? This is our country. Not yours.”

“The penetration into the CIA, the one that got all those guys killed at Ternhill, was not some drunk in the mail room, some dead-ender mid-level case officer who just wanted a houseboat. It was an assistant deputy director. If you have been penetrated, as well, the last thing I want to do is share intel with the UK.”

“I understand. We’ll ferret out the tout, sooner or later. For now, do what you have to do.”

They both stood and shook hands.

Hanley said, “I appreciate the intel. Whenever you need something from us, you just shout.”

“Oh, I’ve a bloody list, Matthew. Trust me. I’ll come knocking for my own information, but first do go out and save the bloody day.”

* * *

• • •

David Mars sat at a table in the kitchen of the old Highlands church at the top of the hill, within sight of the little airfield down in a valley hundreds of yards away. He stared across the table at Roger Fox. Fox and Hines had just arrived from Edinburgh, and although Fox had passed on the news of what happened at the laboratory to Mars while en route, he was now getting the third degree from the former GRU general in person.

Fox said, “Of course, it is very possible your daughter and Dr. Won were killed during the attack or during their escape. It was a fluid situation and we do not know—”

Mars barked back. “I have people in the Edinburgh police. No reports of any female dead or injured at the scene.”

Behind Mars, a pair of elite Russian mercenaries loomed ominously, Kalashnikovs hanging off their shoulders and their eyes on Hines, the only real threat in the room if the altercation between Fox and Mars got any more heated. Mars was the man paying their wage. They’d kill for him, and they’d kill to keep him alive.

Fox said, “This was not the outcome we wanted, David, but we can use it to our advantage.”

Mars looked out the window towards the bottom of the hill. Slowly he nodded. “Won didn’t know the plan. She only knew what we told her. The fact that they have her in custody is problematic, but it won’t alter our mission. If she talks, the Brits will just put Tornados in the air and shoot down a plane we never put much stock in to begin with.”

Fox said, “Yes, and if she talks, then all the security men will be looking towards the sky, won’t they? When the Five Eyes shoots down the crop duster it will think it repelled a potentially devastating attack, and the four hundred occupants of the castle will have no idea they only have days to live.”

Mars said, “There is one problem, though. Won has been here.”

“I had her blindfolded the last twenty minutes of the flight here, and she was blindfolded almost all the way to Castle Enrick. We drove an extra hour so she couldn’t judge distance. She can tell them about an old church on a hill, perhaps, but . . . this is Scotland, there are thousands and it could be anywhere in the Highlands.”

Mars said, “Inform the team leader of the mercenaries that they need to be even more vigilant. I’ll check with my sources in MI5 and MI6, see if they are getting anything out of Won.”

CHAPTER 56

   Suzanne Brewer called the safe house near Edinburgh, just seconds before Court planned on beginning his grilling of the woman shackled in the bedroom, with the news that no one in South Korea had ever heard of Janice Won. At this point it was obvious to all that the woman in their custody was a DPRK asset.

Court knew she would be trained to handle interrogation, but he knew they had to get something out of her.

He moved towards the back of the house, his body feeling much better with the opioids deadening a portion of his pain. He entered the bedroom alone, facing the woman. He could tell how upset she had been when he frisked her, and it told him she was uncomfortable with touch in general. To capitalize on this discomfort he leaned close to her face, into her ear, his beard scratching her cheek.

“Comfortable?”

She said nothing.

“You and I are going to have a little talk. If you don’t give me what I want, you’re going to be taken away to a black site and interrogated more forcefully. I think we’d both like to avoid that, if possible.”

She had no reaction at all to this, so he steeled himself for some frustration. She’d be a tough nut to crack. Perhaps it would go all the way to Zack before she opened her mouth, and he caught himself almost feeling sorry for her for a fleeting instant.

* * *

• • •

As expected, Court’s role as “bad cop” in the interrogation of Dr. Janice Won yielded no results at all, not a single word out of her mouth. He stepped through the door and tagged up with Zoya.

Court had told Zoya that he’d heard Won speaking Russian to the Bratva soldiers, so when Zoya entered the room she did so impersonating an SVR officer. In shouted Russian, she told Won that Russia did not sanction any of this, which she felt certain was true, and Zakharov’s plan all along had been to frame her as the mastermind of the entire scheme, which she also assumed to be accurate.

Zoya could see the enemy agent’s mind thinking through everything she was being told, the first hint before someone cracks.

Still, Won gave up nothing. Zoya had seen this level of fanaticism before, both in Chechnya and the Middle East. Won would gladly kill herself right now if she had any means to do so.

She wasn’t going to say a word.

And then came Hightower.