A Hostile State by Adrian Magson (best finance books of all time txt) 📕

his secretary was an additional cause for concern. It suggested the group’s chairman was using a cut-out approach to keep whatever was ailing him to a limited number of people.

The door opened and Basalayev seemed to seep into the room like a shadow. He ignored the customary greetings and stood by his chair, one hand in his jacket pocket. His expression was about as friendly as the statue of Lenin in Kaluzhskaya Garden Square. Another bad sign.

‘I am unhappy to report,’ he said heavily, his free hand showing the white of his knuckles as he gripped the leathered back of his chair, ‘that the attempted disposal of the American CIA contractor, Portman, who was traced to Lebanon on a mission, was carried out by imbeciles. Not only were they unable to kill a man who would have had no warning they were there, but they were killed by him.’ His gaze swung to fix sharply on Anatoly Dolmatov. ‘Perhaps we could discuss that.’

The silence in the room became intense until the former FSB man cleared his throat. ‘I was badly advised,’ he stated bluntly, his heavy brows dipping like angry caterpillars. ‘I requested former special forces personnel, which they were, but they were clearly not of the calibre required.’ He lifted one strong hand off the table. ‘I apologize and have already put checks in place to make sure we use better people. We will get Portman next time and are already following his progress.’

Nobody else spoke, glancing at Dolmatov as if determining whether this might be the last time they saw him here as a member of the group.

Basalayev rapped the table with his knuckles, drawing all eyes towards him.

‘Mistakes were made. I accept that. But we have learned a useful lesson from this failure. Portman is clearly capable and ruthless, and does not hesitate to fight fire with fire. It means we must be even more determined to deal with him as soon as the next opportunity presents itself.’ The way his eyes zeroed in on Dolmatov told everyone that there would be only one more opportunity.

‘That’s if he hasn’t gone underground,’ said Oleg Voronin, the former Spetsgruppa ‘V’ officer. ‘If he’s as good as they seem to think he is he will be accustomed to using multiple legends and routes in and out. Can we deal with that?’

‘Indeed we can. Luckily for us we have access to an inside source who can follow his progress during the exit transition of his current assignment and provide Seraphim with a location whenever we need it. Seraphim will pass that detail to us the moment she has it.’

‘Inside source?’ Irina Kolodka queried. She lifted an elegant eyebrow. ‘You mean inside Langley?’

‘I cannot confirm that, and in any case it does not matter where the source is. Suffice to say we are being given information that will allow us to complete this task satisfactorily.’ He looked at his watch. ‘In fact, I understand we may already have a new location for Portman. Is that not so, Grishin?’

The former general, who had been given the task of collating and verifying the information received from the source in Washington, nodded. ‘Correct. Portman is still in Lebanon in the company of a woman. We haven’t yet identified her, but that is not important. We have his new location in the Bekaa Valley in the north-east of the country.’ He nodded towards Dolmatov, subtly and effectively placing him once more in the spotlight. ‘I believe Anatoly’s new team will shortly be setting off on the next stage of the mission.’

Dolmatov said nothing, but nodded.

‘Good,’ Basalayev said. ‘Back to work, gentlemen … and lady.’

TEN

‘Where are we going?’ I asked as Isobel swerved to avoid another donkey, this one loaded with giant bales of something wrapped in tarpaulin. The man walking alongside waved angrily at us and showed a line of black teeth in a deeply tanned face. Whether it was because we’d frightened his donkey or because he disapproved of women drivers I wasn’t sure.

‘There’s a safe-house outside town. Why, do you have somewhere else you’d rather be?’

‘The nearest international airport and a flight out would be top of my list. And I’d like to get there in one piece.’

She waved my concerns away with one hand and hooked a hard right turn down a narrow street, pounding on the horn to clear the way of pedestrians, kids and scavenging dogs.

‘The only international airport of any note would be too dangerous. With the number of protests and the level of violence going on at the moment, all foreigners are being scrutinized carefully. Paranoia rules. Anyway, it isn’t all about you, you know. I have to get out of here, too. Do you have a real name, by the way? I can’t keep calling you Watchman; it makes you sound like one of those super-hero movie characters. You’re not wearing Spandex under those clothes, are you?’

‘Not this trip. It’s Marc. With a cee.’

‘Fine. Marc-with-a-cee. The other thing is, this my ride. So, as you Americans would say.’

‘So?’

‘So I get to call the shots.’ She threw me an engaging smile which changed her face entirely, and I got the feeling she was enjoying herself acting out a little. ‘Actually, that’s not strictly true; it is mostly about you and I’m just hitching a lift on your coat-tails. But I do know the location of the safe-house so that’s my main input to this trip. It won’t be quick getting there, I can tell you that. It’s not very far but the roads can be God-awful with traffic and we’ll probably get held up or stopped more than once.’

‘But once we do get there?’

‘We wait for someone to pick us up. From there we’ll be taken to a location where a plane will be waiting. At least, that’s the plan.’

It sounded too simple and probably wasn’t, but I’d heard worse plans and even worked on a few with less obvious signs of potential success. ‘Good to know.’ After