The Eighth Sister (Charles Jenkins #1)(124)

Through the large windows, Jenkins could see the guests gathered in the family room. They had their backs to him, facing the glow of the flat-screen television.

Jenkins nearly put down his pole. He was tempted to go up and find out what exactly had happened, but he decided he knew enough. He thought of Viktor Federov and of Carl Emerson, and of justice, often meted out in ways unexpected, for all of them. He wanted nothing more than to watch his son cast his lure far out over the water, and reel in his line with a fisherman’s faith that, despite exceedingly long odds, this cast would be different.

“Flip back the bail and cast again,” he said to CJ.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


A few years ago, I read the novel The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah. I was so impressed with the novel, the documentation, and the details that I wrote the author. We share the same literary agency. I asked her, “Where did you find this story?” Kristin responded, “Sometimes good stories fall into our laps, and we just need to get out of the way.”

I agree. The Eighth Sister is not a true story. It is complete fiction. But I did receive a call from a gentleman who had a story to tell. I took him up on the invitation, and that meeting spurred me to write this novel. I’m grateful to have had coffee with him, and for the help he lent me.

In the midst of writing this novel, I met another man at an event in Seattle. He told me that he worked in the Soviet Union at the Metropol Hotel during the 1970s. It was not a hotel at that time. We got to chatting, and he, too, had another career. He, too, helped with the writing of this novel.

In addition, I want to thank John Black, whom I met while teaching a writing class. John is a former international oil and gas lawyer who worked for oil companies in Moscow and Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk, Russia, from 1991 to 2008. He was trained in the Russian language by the US military during the Vietnam conflict. John read the manuscript and helped me with its accuracy. Thanks also to Rodger Davis, who lived and worked in the Soviet Union and contacted individuals to further help me write the novel. Rodger gave me great tips on Russia and Russian culture. He introduced me to several books as well: Peter the Great, by Robert K. Massie; Black Wind, White Snow, by Charles Clover; and Wheel of Fortune, by Thane Gustafson. Rodger is a talented writer and generous colleague. Thank you also to Tim Tigner, a novelist and a friend. Tim worked in the Soviet Union for a number of years and has written about the country in his novels, which include Coercion and The Lies of Spies. Tim also recommended Bill Browder’s book, Red Notice, which I devoured.

I also want to thank Jon Coon, who was trained as a hard-hat diver and explosives specialist and served as a dive safety officer and project leader on commercial salvage, archaeology, and scientific projects internationally. He’s written three novels and numerous articles. His photographs have illustrated textbooks and magazines for more than thirty years. He is a PADI course director, former PADI regional manager, cave diver, and trains emergency first response instructors.

I am indebted to all of these people for their help. If there are mistakes, they are mine and mine alone.

In addition to the above, I read a number of other books, fiction and nonfiction, including A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles; The Main Enemy: The Inside Story of the CIA’s Final Showdown with the KGB, by Milton Bearden and James Risen; Moscow City, by A. R. Zander; The Honest Spy, by Andreas Kollender; The Defector, by Daniel Silva; The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, by John Le Carré; Gorky Park, by Martin Cruz Smith; and Istanbul Passage, by Joseph Kanon.

I also spent three weeks in Russia. In 1998, a Russian opera singer, who had defected years earlier from the Soviet Union, and who had sung at my wedding in Seattle, was going home. She offered to help facilitate a trip to Russia. My wife and I, and our then eighteen-month-old son, my brother-in-law and sister-in-law, my parents, and my wife’s parents, took her up on the offer. Prior to departing, my brother-in-law and I decided to get flattop haircuts. We were told that conditions in Russia could be primitive and washing our hair would be a pain. (That proved inaccurate.) I got a flattop. My brother-in-law chickened out. We also decided to wear navy-blue berets to keep our heads warm. Are you starting to get the picture?

When we arrived at Sheremetyevo International Airport in Moscow, the officer checking my passport sternly uttered, “Nyet.” I was taken out of the passport line to a room where all of my belongings were thoroughly searched. When we finally arrived at the Hotel Rossiya in Moscow, each couple received a room assignment. Interestingly, we were assigned every other room on the same floor, and in each of our rooms hung a large mirror on the wall of the adjacent, and presumably empty, room. We joked that we were being watched, and each morning I’d parade in front of the mirror naked. That first afternoon, we all agreed to take a short nap and to meet for dinner at 6:00 p.m.

None of us made it.

Each of us, all eight adults, said we tried to get up from the bed and couldn’t, that we felt drugged when we tried to sit up. We didn’t meet until the following morning.

We ventured out to Red Square and the Kremlin. As we walked the grounds from St. Basil’s to the Lenin Mausoleum and other attractions, my brother-in-law approached and said, “We’re being followed.” He then pointed out a woman in white boots. He said, “She’s been with us everywhere we’ve gone.” And she continued to follow us through the GUM department store and other locations. We went to Detsky Mir, the huge children’s toy store, and we walked around Lubyanka Square and marveled at what had been the famed KGB headquarters. The woman came with us, until we returned to the Hotel Rossiya.