“And found nothing since there is nothing there.”
“Well, there are other avenues of pursuit. We know you’ve planted spies all around the country.”
Egorshin ominously took out a muzzle suppressor and spun it onto the barrel of his pistol. “What else?”
“Mitzi Gardiner will fill in the rest.”
“Doubtful. Where is she?”
“Still at the hospital, under heavy guard.”
“You miss my point.”
Decker looked at him thoughtfully. “You didn’t try to kill her at the hospital. And I wonder why you even kept her alive all these years.”
Egorshin looked at one of his men and pointed to the doorway leading into the kitchen. The man left and came back a few moments later with Brad Gardiner. His hands were bound behind him and he looked disheveled and exhausted.
Decker glanced up at him. “You hung around too. Pretty stupid.”
“Well, it wasn’t his choice,” said Egorshin. “It was mine.”
“Is his name even Brad Gardiner?” said Jamison. “Or is he Russian, like you?”
Egorshin rose. “No, he’s American. Like David Katz. They were in it just for the money. A lot of money. Americans love their money.”
Jamison said, “Katz didn’t make much money before being killed. He just owned the American Grill. Hardly an empire.”
Egorshin shook his head wearily. “Where do you think he got the money to start his career? This was before he even moved here. His Mercedes and his expensive clothes and his investment portfolio worth millions and the down payment for the Grill and the various lines of credit? And how they were paid off so quickly? Katz was a marginal talent who didn’t want to work too hard for his fortune.”
“How did you two meet up?” asked Decker.
“Doesn’t matter. In much the same way I met up with this one,” he said, motioning to Gardiner. “A necessary though distasteful part of my job.”
Gardiner wouldn’t look at any of them. His gaze remained downcast. He was visibly trembling.
Jamison eyed Gardiner. “So you sold out your country for money. That makes you a traitor.”
“And traitors deserve to be executed,” said Egorshin.
Before anyone could react, the Russian placed the pistol against Gardiner’s temple and pulled the trigger.
The bullet blew through the man’s head and the slug plowed into the far wall of the kitchen. Brad Gardiner fell where he had stood a moment before.
Chapter 80
THEY ALL STARED at the body lying on the floor of the kitchen.
“Damn,” exclaimed Mars, who had recovered from the cattle prod shock and had sat up, his back flat against the wall.
Decker looked up at Egorshin. “Why kill him?”
“It reduces complications for me.”
“Okay. Why a restaurant, of all things?”
“What better way to become ‘Americanized’? Interacting with the customers, you learn everything: slang, dialect, mannerisms, pop culture, sports. Americans love their sports. French fries! Social media etiquette. Simply becoming Americans. Back in Russia, it would have taken us years to accomplish what I was able to have my operatives do in a few months. It was simple, but most brilliant things have an underlying simplicity.”
“And the underground room?”
“Well, we couldn’t exactly do up in the restaurant what was required.”
“We saw the operating room.”
Egorshin waved his hand dismissively. “Some of my superiors still dwelled in the Cold War days. We rarely used it. Instead, we simply recruited from our assets those who already looked westernized.”
“It took us a while to figure out where the entrance was.”
“May I ask how you did so?”
“Space dimensions were off compared to the area outside the kitchen.”
Egorshin wagged his finger at Decker. “One of my men at the restaurant reported that you seemed overly interested in speaking with one of the wait staff. You were clearly a man to watch.”
“And to attempt to kill?” said Decker. “On the way back from Mitzi’s?”
“Forgive me, it is the usual way in which we deal with difficulties.”
“Eric Tyson and Karl Stevens had KI tats on their arms.”
“My father was privileged to work for the KI, and so we had some of our recruits get that tattoo. However, we hid it among many hate groups’ symbols to throw off detection.”
“Recruits?”
Egorshin held up his hand. “That goes beyond what I can say. It is a game, and you do the same to us. But let us never lose sight of the fact that it is a game with very real consequences.” He glanced at Gardiner’s body.
He sat back down and slipped the gun into his waistband.
Decker said, “One thing I don’t get. Mitzi said her husband placed people in high-end jobs, in law, finance, high tech, government.”
“And your point?”
“Even with the new identities and such, it would be difficult for your agents to survive a background check. You can create the right docs and all, paper the schools they went to, but the background check will go to where they attended school and lived, talk to old neighbors, relatives, teachers, coworkers, and all the rest.”
“That is true. And that is why we approached it in a different way.”
“How?”
“First of all, Mitzi had no idea what her husband really did. She only told you what she had been told. As a matter of fact, he did not place our people in these so-called high-end jobs. You’re right, the scrutiny would have been rather intense.”
“So what did you do then?”
Egorshin smiled. “‘Low-end’ jobs are much better sources for intelligence collection.”
“What do you consider ‘low-end’ jobs?” asked Jamison.
“For example, chefs for wealthy people. Security guards at sensitive corporate facilities. You would be astonished how lacking they are in vetting their security forces. We would never do it that way in Russia. Americans outsource everything. And these companies cut costs. And background checks are expensive and take time. We deploy personal drivers for executives and former government officials. It is amazing how chatty they are in their cars, as though the driver is deaf. Flight attendants on private aircraft. Domestic help, cleaning crews, and nannies with your class of movers and shakers, particularly on both coasts. Personal assistants to these same people. IT personnel who gain access to passwords and clouds and the most sensitive data, and who are on-site listening to everything. Attendants of all ilk at high-end hotels, restaurants, spas, and private retreats. Again, Americans talk as though these peons do not exist. And these peons just soak it up. Indeed, I have been on your Acela train. I simply sit there and listen to people loudly talking on their phones: lawyers and corporate executives, journalists and television news presenters, and even your government officials, giving away the most critical data like it is nothing. In my country they would be shot. I turn my recorder on and sip my drink and it is so easy. That is why we have people who work there and also wherever sensitive information can be captured by seemingly insignificant people. America is one gigantic leaking balloon and it is truly wonderful.”