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Simple enough to command, tougher to actually get done. The equipment, all electronic, was delicate and moisture sensitive and so had to be packed carefully. He was working in the Port of LongBeach when Volkov called: “I have spoken to the manager, and he says he has a location for the packages we are missing. They’re all at the same place.”
Translated: GRU computer specialists had been into the LAPD’s license plate tracking computer and had followed the known rail hackers to a single location.
“Where are you now?” Step asked.
“I’m visiting with Vickie. We’re having tea. Whenever you can get here, we’ll be waiting.”
“On the way,” Step said.
Volkov was visibly pleasedwith himself. After Step’s implied incompetence in getting two men killed, two shot, and one arrested while eliminating only two rail hackers—Brianna Wolfe wasn’t actually a programmer—he and his Moscow associates had located the hacker combine in less than a full day.
“Now, we need specifics. They are at the SkyPort hotel, at the airport,” Volkov said. “We rely on you to determine exactly where—which rooms. We have penetrated the reservation system, but the coding within the system is crazy. So: we need to know about access, opposition, parking, how many there are. When we know that, in detail, my men will attend to them.”
“Good, good,” Step said. “However, you know that they have shooters as well. It may not be so easy to get at them.”
“We can handle it—we have the tools to hit hard and then get out,” Volkov said. “If we have to scramble some eggs, we can do that.”
“We will start looking... very carefully and perhaps a little slowly,” Step told him. “If we’ve actually located this nest, we don’t want to push them into flight.”
“Not too slowly,” Volkov said. “We don’t need the trains confused again. The army is moving swiftly to Kyiv, but as the trail grows longer, the logistical support must move closer.”
“How long before it’s over?”
“A week, perhaps, they are saying now. I think perhaps... two weeks? The exact time depends on some weather conditions... A storm is organizing in the north. We’re not yet able to predict its exact path and impact.”
“Then it will be cold and the fighting will be difficult,” Step said. “I know this weather.”
“The weather will mostly affect the air arm,” Volkov said. “When it clears, the cold won’t matter—we’ll crush the Ukrainians. The worst of the storm will be over in three to five days, no more. There won’t be much exposure.”
“God bless the army; I wish them every success,” Step said.
When Volkov had gone, but before Step had decided how to conduct the reconnaissance at the SkyPort, Victoria asked, “Do you think he’s right about the army? A week?”
Step shook his head. “I was a draftee, so I saw it from the bottom. I thought I knew corruption, but in the army, it was a different dimension. Nothing worked. Anything of quality was stolen. Including food and clothing. Weapons. Trucks. Anything. From my base, we couldn’t drive into town in a week. It would be faster to walk. In my opinion, there is a very good chance that the army will have its Russian ass handed to it. Except...”
“Except?”
“The Ukraine army is possibly as corrupt as the Russian, hard as that is to believe. Maybe they will both have their asses handed to themselves.”
“You need to get some people over to the SkyPort,” Victoria said. “Who will you send?”
“Still thinking about that. My boys are truck loaders or muscle, not spies,” Step said. “We need Tom Boyadjian now. I don’t know... I can call him, but he might not answer. Did the FBI get his burners? I don’t know.”
“Well, don’t call from here,” Victoria said. “While you do that, I’ll move the Vanguard account to Zurich.”
When Step calledTom Boyadjian’s burner, Boyadjian said four words: “Door whore in one,” and he hung up.
The bar-restaurant was called the Morning Glory, but the hostess at the front desk, whose name was Millie, had once referred to herself, while waiting on Step and Boyadjian, as “just another door whore.”
By “one,” Step assumed that Boyadjian would be there in an hour. Boyadjian lived in an area called Hancock Park and the Morning Glory was about halfway between there and the Flats. They would both have time to check for surveillance before they met.
Step drove back to the guesthouse, took twenty thousand dollars in fifty-dollar bills from a hatbox under the bed, thought about it, added another five, kissed Victoria, who was out of Vanguard and was now closing out a Fidelity account, and headed for the bar.
Boyadjian was waiting, a tall, thick man, balding, heavily tanned from golf, wearing a Polo shirt and a gold Rolex. He was morosely stirring a Bloody Mary with a celery stalk.
Step asked, “You’re clean?”
“I’m clean; it’s my business to be clean. If I still have a business.”
