Intel.
February of 1993.
Kiev, Ukraine.
Denis was waiting in front of my hotel.
I had only just gotten back to Ukraine. It was cold and dreary outside, no sun in the sky, huddled masses moving down the sidewalks. I was exhausted, having traveled through the night. I had been so focused on getting out of Russia that I forgot to sleep. Now my body felt ragged, wasted, and the edges of my vision were beginning to blur.
When I saw Denis, the alarm bells were more like wind chimes in the distance.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"I found out you were staying nearby." He took me in, maybe registering that I was much less put together than the last time we spoke. It seemed to unnerve him.
Good.
"Why do you want to know where I'm staying?"
"Did you handle your problem, up north?"
Yes. I handled it. But to Denis, I gave only a hard stare.
He got the message, looking away. "I heard of something that might interest you. I have a feeling you take interest in… certain activities."
"You came all the way here to let me in on some gossip?" I glanced around, making sure no one was listening in. People passed us on the sidewalk, paying no attention. "Denis, you made the wrong choice by coming here. Our relationship ended when you gave me that map."
"I don't want to be here, trust me." He glanced around, too, as if paranoia was contagious. "But I'm not… I don't…"
"Spit it out."
"I thought you would be able to help her."
"Help who?"
"The little girl."
A prickle of interest battled with my mistrust. "Come upstairs. We can talk over coffee."
He looked at the hotel wearily.
"Don't worry, Denis. If I wanted you to disappear, you would be gone by now."
He was not comforted by that, but I left no room for objection. I ushered him inside. He joined me upstairs, sitting nervously in an armchair while I made us both hot cups of coffee. I took a sip of his before I gave it to him, to reassure him that I hadn't poisoned it.
Strangely, I felt calmer now. It was like dealing with the nuclear threat had given me some respite. I might even sleep tonight.
"I heard about it from a client, accidentally," Denis said, holding the cup just under his face, staring into it. "He was talking about taking a child from a mansion in Moscow. He wanted the… products to be shipped there. He gave me the address. I told him it was impossible."
I held out my hand.
Denis passed me a notecard.
"Who lives there?" I asked, scanning it. Standard location, didn't ring any bells.
"An American diplomat. I think. But they were talking about a little girl."
"They want to kidnap her and ransom her, probably," I said, looking at the address again, committing it to memory. "Remind me again why you thought I would care."
Denis sipped his coffee. "You're a spy, aren't you?"
I gave no reaction, still staring at the notecard. "Denis, those are dangerous words."
He cleared his throat. "What I mean is, your accent…"
"What about it?"
"It sounds American."
Every hair on the back of my neck stood up, and a chill went down my spine.
Denis must have seen me tense up. "Listen, I don't care who you are. You can believe that I don't want anything more to do with you or that… lamp. I thought this would be of interest to you. That's it. I hope this can get me off of your radar entirely, forever."
I considered him. He seemed sincere.
"I have heard your name before. I asked people," Denis said, still reasoning, begging. "It seems everywhere you go…"
I finished it for him, in my head. Death follows.
He was right to worry.
"Okay." I stood up. "Feel free to finish your coffee." I started packing, throwing my meager belongings into a suitcase and hauling it over my shoulder.
Denis took his last sip, nodding, maybe finally relaxing.
And then I shot him.
"I'm sorry," I said. "No one can know who I am."
XxX
Denis had good intel. He would have been a good informant.
He had given me the address of an American diplomat – Winston Perry. He lived there with his three-year-old daughter and his nanny, a pretty young woman. I could only linger outside for so long before it got creepy, but overall the situation seemed dire. Ripe for a kidnapping.
It was time to make a call.
Card picked up on the first ring, saying nothing.
"Did you get the coordinates I sent?" I asked.
"I did. Well done. Where are you now?"
"Moscow. I got some intel that you might want to act on."
Card was receptive to my information. Once I was done laying it out for him, including the very dead Russian bomb maker in my hotel room, he said, "Approved. What can I do?"
Sometimes I appreciated how much freedom he gave me.
"I need you to assign me as a bodyguard to the kid. I'll stop whatever this is."
"Done. Give me a day." He paused, hesitated, and then added, "Get some sleep, champ. You sound exhausted."
"If you come through, I can sleep in a mansion tomorrow night."
He chuckled.