Savage Recruit (Ryan Savage Thriller Series Book 8), стр. 20
“Kathleen… How are you feeling? You have not touched the food we provided.”
She locked eyes with him and remained impassive. She took her time responding. “How long have I been here?”
“It has been sixteen hours since you were at the market.”
“You mean since you kidnapped me.”
He shrugged.
“Your men who escorted me from the market... They gave me tricosene-pentothal?”
His eyes narrowed. “Yes. How did you know that?”
She glanced down at the red splotches on her arms. Her whole body felt like it was crawling with chiggers. “I’m allergic to tricosene-pentothal.”
“You don’t say. That is not an allergy your average person is aware of.”
“But then I’m not your average person,” she replied. “I suspect you know that. Isn’t that why I’m here?”
“Of course.”
She nodded. “So then, what do I call you?”
“You can call me… John.”
Kathleen smirked. “Okay... John. Are you going to tell me why you cut my vacation short?”
“Certainly.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. “It is a simple thing, really. One which I am hoping we can quickly come to an understanding about. Then we can once again go our separate ways. Me, back to what it is that I do, and you, back to America.”
“I’m listening.”
“You are familiar with a man by the name of Simon Lagunov.”
It wasn’t a question. He watched her expression, expecting it to falter—the flicker of an eye, the twitch of a brow. But there was nothing. Inside, however, Kathleen was awhirl. Lagunov’s name was certainly at the very bottom of a list of possibilities that she would have considered a topic of interest.
“Why are you asking?”
“It is important that I speak with him.”
“And what makes you think I know this man?”
“Kathleen, let us not play games. Prior to your transition from the CIA to Homeland Security, you spent three years as the CIA station chief in Brussels. During that time, Mr. Lagunov attended a scientific convention in Brussels and reached out to your office, asking for assistance in a defection from Russia. I have it on good authority that you personally oversaw this request and helped him get settled in a new country under a new name. You know where he is, and I need to have a conversation with him.”
“I’m sorry to say you’ve wasted your time,” she said. “I have never met a man named Simon Luganov. Your sources are mistaken.”
Her captor rubbed the tip of his index finger along the bridge of his nose. “Kathleen, I know that you spent most of your career working for the CIA. It is not a far stretch from there to assume that you have been on my side of an interrogation many times yourself. But please know, my patience will evaporate. I would advise that you consider giving me Luganov’s location sooner than later.
They locked stares for a long while, each trying to get a read on the other, neither successful. “I’ll tell you what,” Kathleen finally said. “Why don’t you get me some Benadryl, and we can see if that helps clear my mind at all.”
“I will see what I can do.”
“This Luganov guy... Why do you want him so badly?”
“You know why. He is the only man on this planet who understands certain scientific variables. He is a genius of the first order. The application of his research is endless. And I am a businessman. The old children’s stories might speak of him as a goose that lays golden eggs.”
“And you’re the witch who throws children into the oven?”
He spread his hands. “Perhaps.” He stood up. “But for now, this witch will get you something for your allergic reaction.” Then he left the room, leaving Kathleen alone with her thoughts and the camera staring at her from the corner.
So, all this was about Simon Luganov.
Kathleen’s memory took her back nearly four years, during her curtain call role with Langley as Brussels’ chief of station. Simon Luganov had walked into the lobby of her building one snowy afternoon and refused to leave until he spoke with her. After her team spent the afternoon vetting him, Kathleen gave him the audience he was seeking. For the next two hours, in a tiny interrogation room in the building’s basement, Kathleen listened with intrigue as Luganov told her of his position with Russia’s State Atomic Energy Corporation and his groundbreaking research in the field of nuclear and biochemical energy. Much of the biochemical research was proving to be beneficial and showed great promise in its commercial uses. But on the nuclear side, Luganov was greatly concerned about the potential applications and the damage it could cause. If, he said, the wrong politicians or businessmen were to gain unmitigated access to the technology his research could inform, great harm could come to the entire human race. Kathleen recalled Luganov’s continued references to Oppenheimer. “I would rather die than be the next Oppenheimer,” he had said more than once. Robert Oppenheimer had led the U.S.’s development of the nuclear bomb in the New Mexico desert, his team developing the technology that resulted in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Luganov said he wanted to defect and wished to never return to Russia. In his absence, his research could not advance without him, at least not on any meaningful timeline, and he did not want to empower the wrong men with the wrong technologies. Personally, he was a pacifist; professionally, he was