December 22, 1984
Moscow, Russia
11:40pm
Renkov shook hands with his newest investor, buttoned his coat and followed his bodyguard out to the car. He was surprised to find his right-hand man, Igor, waiting for him.
"Igor? Why you not at house?"
Igor, surprised, looked back and forth between the bodyguards and Renkov.
"I receive your message to watch investor's men at party…make sure no one cheat at gambling tables."
Renkov's eyes narrowed. "When you get this message?"
"After dinner…before your meeting."
Renkov looked back to the bodyguard on his right. "Who is at house?"
"Madam Renkov return to house over two hours ago. Two men went with her, per your request."
"Who?" Renkov demanded, turning to the guard.
"Nikolai and Thomas," the guard answered, looking to Igor, confused by their boss' behavior.
"We need go now!" Renkov yelled, motioning for everyone to get into the car. "Igor, we pick up doctors on way!
Present Day- 3:00am
Washington, D.C.
"Wake up, Sharpe!"
Gibbs slammed his hands on the table, causing the former CIA operative's head to lift wearily.
"We got a lot to cover," Gibbs said, putting his glasses on and opening the folder in front of him.
Sharpe yawned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Do you people never sleep?"
"Not when we have Russians trying to kill Americans. What happened in December 1984 that brought you back to the Renkov residence?"
"You think I remember? God, Gibbs, it's 3 in the morning!"
"And I have a woman recovering from gunshot wounds in a safe house right now. So how about we jog your memory!"
Gibbs stood, walking around to stand behind Sharpe, placing three photos in front of him.
"These are photos from the original case file. The Renkov residence in Moscow, Igor Nikitin- Renkov's right-hand man, and this man….
Gibbs pointed to the man in the last photo to Sharpe's right. "File says he was killed by Renkov, under the name George Lukin."
Sharpe nodded. "That's right."
"And you were there when Renkov killed him," Gibbs said, walking back around to the opposite side of the table.
Sighing heavily, Sharpe folded his hands on top of the table and replied, "Yes, I was. Renkov shot him twice in the chest, then once between the eyes."
Sharpe shook his head at the memory. "I hate to say it…but the man had it coming to him. He should have known better."
Gibbs took a seat, beginning to take a few notes. "Why do you say that?"
"He went after Renkov's wife. Poor idiot thought he was showing his loyalty by doing so."
Gibbs stopped writing and looked directly at Sharpe. "This report states that you were present at Renkov's request. Why?"
"Long story," Sharpe replied.
"I'm not going anywhere," Gibbs answered. "So, start talking."
"Chekov and I were both pulled from our homes well after midnight when it all went down."
"Who came to get you?"
"Renkov himself," Sharpe explained. "He had been hosting some function. They were on the way back to the house, and he insisted that they stop for both Chekov and I. Igor told us that Renkov had a very bad feeling."
"About what?"
Sharpe shrugged. "Didn't say. Just said to grab our bags and move before Renkov did something we would all regret."
"And what do you think Igor meant by that?"
Sharpe paused a moment, leaned back and crossed his arms in contemplation. "Igor had been with Renkov for well over twenty years by that time. The only thing I could assume was that Renkov was acting in a way Igor had not seen before. Renkov was worried…very worried. It was evident on the drive back to the house."
"Did Renkov say why he was worried?"
"A guy like Renkov never says why he is worried, Gibbs. You know that" Sharpe answered.
"How about Igor? Get any thoughts from him?"
"Only after it was said and done."
"And….?"
Sharpe chose his words carefully. "Renkov was never concerned about anyone's welfare but his own. Never. But on this occasion, it was very clear Renkov was worried about her. He wanted to make sure she was all right…that she wasn't hurt."
"By this 'she' you mean his wife?" Gibbs asked.
Sharpe nodded but remained silent.
"And Igor had never known Renkov to care about someone in that way before…correct?" Gibbs prodded.
"Right," Sharpe answered, his eyes now focused on the table.
Standing again, Gibbs walked back around to stand beside Sharpe. "Problem was, you knew that Renkov's wife was actually the agent you were trying to extract. And if he was that protective of her, it would be even harder to get her away from him. "
Sharpe cleared his throat, not daring to meet Gibbs' eyes. "Right."
"When did you learn that Renkov had turned her from his captive into his wife?"
"Chekov confirmed it after the first time I evaluated her."
"Did Chekov or Igor ever indicate why Renkov married her?"
"No…not really. Just said Renkov didn't want anyone else laying a hand on her," Sharpe replied.
"But someone did…"
"Lukin…yeah," Sharpe answered, shaking his head again. "Stupid fool."
"And Renkov made him pay."
"Most definitely."
"With three bullets…" Gibbs clarified, reaching over to the file and pulling out two pieces of paper. Studying the paperwork in front of him, Gibbs asked, "But wasn't Lukin was one of Renkov's own?"
"He was," Sharpe confirmed.
"And from all the information in the case file, Renkov did not easily allow people into his organization."
"No, he didn't."
"Mmhmm," Gibbs replied, laying down the two pieces of paper in front of Sharpe. "So, I'm struggling here. Was it because Lukin touched his wife…our missing CIA agent…that Renkov killed him? Or was it because Lukin was a double agent…and Renkov was unsure of his loyalties?"
Sharpe sat up straight, his arms uncrossing as he began to read the two pieces of paper sitting in front of him.
"See Sharpe, technology has advanced so much in the past few years that information the CIA buried can be unearthed."
Gibbs could see the man's face growing pale. Standing, Gibbs turned and put both his hands on the table, his face turning to stare at that of the former CIA handler.
"I suggest you start telling me how the CIA allowed George Lukin to go undetected in their organization for twelve years…and how you were his handler and allowed him to turn on your other agent and hand her over to Renkov."
"Gibbs…."
"Think the CIA wanted to cover up the fact that they had a Russian in their ranks and didn't know it?"
Sharpe remained silent, staring at the facts in front of him.
Gibbs slammed his hands on the table, causing Sharpe to wince, his eyes shutting at the harsh memories.
"Answer me!"
Opening his eyes slowly, Sharpe took a slow, deep breath. "Son….you don't know the half of it."
