The Eighth Sister (Charles Jenkins #1)(5)

“The seven sisters were to be totally clandestine,” Emerson continued. “Only a select few in the agency ever knew of the operation, and fewer knew the sisters’ names. I am not among those select few.”

“They still exist?” Jenkins asked.

“Some,” Emerson said.

“We didn’t deactivate them when Gorbachev instituted glasnost and perestroika in the 1980s?” Jenkins said.

“No,” Emerson said. “And now things have changed both inside Russia and in our relationship to it. Putin is not Gorbachev.”

Putin had been a KGB foreign intelligence officer who rose to the rank of lieutenant colonel, and he was generally considered untrustworthy and immoral by the intelligence community.

Emerson spoke as he walked to one of two red leather chairs. He sat and crossed his legs. “Putin is on record as saying that the breakup of the Soviet Union ‘was the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the twentieth century.’ It’s a particularly telling statement when one considers the twentieth century produced two world wars and the Holocaust.”

Jenkins lowered himself onto the leather couch across from Emerson, the coffee table between them. “Why are you here, Carl?” he asked again.

“Three of the sisters have been killed within the last two years.”

“Killed as in—”

“As in they’ve quit reporting and disappeared.”

“Maybe they don’t want to be involved any longer.”

“Unlikely. The more Russia reverts back to a dictatorship, with a constitution that is largely perfunctory, the more it goes against everything the seven sisters were trained to oppose.”

Jenkins sat back. “You think someone inside Russia has determined their identities and executed them? Why wouldn’t they execute the other four at the same time? If they had three, they would have the names of the others—Russian interrogation techniques are ruthless.”

“The sisters do not know one another, nor do they know the name of the operation. They don’t even know they’re part of an operation. Each believes she is acting autonomously.”

“They can’t give each other up.”

“No. They cannot.”

Jenkins gave that some thought, then said, “So I ask again. Why are you here?”

“The millennials have come of age, Charlie, and they’ve moved into the intelligence community. They are very good with computers and electronic intelligence. Human intelligence, however, boots on the ground, has become a lost art. You speak the language or could reasonably do so again quickly. Your employment provides you with a legitimate cover; LSR&C has an office in Moscow, does it not? It would make your presence within the country easy to backstop. You would not need training.”

“You want to reactivate me?” Jenkins asked, disbelieving.

“We do,” Emerson said.

“For what purpose?”

“We assume that if three of the sisters have been identified and killed, it is just a matter of time before the others are also terminated.”

Jenkins should have said “No,” but instead he asked, “How much do we know?”

“Not enough. What we know is Putin first learned of the seven sisters’ possible existence while he worked as a KGB agent, and that he tried unsuccessfully to verify their existence and to identify them.”

“And he never gave up looking?”

“He never forgot might be a better way to put it. The FSB is not the KGB. It is a more refined version, with better technology. We have reason to believe Putin verified the operation and activated a counteragent, what he refers to as an eighth sister.”

“How very James Bond of him,” Jenkins said.

“Subtlety has never been his hallmark. You’ve seen the pictures of him with his shirt off? Perhaps while riding bareback?”

“Russian virility,” Jenkins said, recalling how the Russian officers thrived on thinking they were stronger than their CIA counterparts.

“The eighth sister is in reference to an eighth building Stalin commissioned but never saw built. We need someone to identify who that person is before any more sisters are killed.”

Jenkins shook his head. “Russian intelligence would pick me up the moment the Border Guard scanned my passport, and they will have a dossier on me from my time working in Mexico City.”

“I’m counting on it.” Emerson smiled. “A disgruntled former CIA agent now working in Moscow. The FSB will be wary, but also very interested,” he said. “You would start slowly, provide information to interest them but which does not compromise active operations. When you establish their trust, you will indicate that you can provide the names of the remaining four sisters. When you do, we have reason to believe the eighth sister will present herself.”

“And then what?”

“Your role would end upon identification.”

“I’d be a shoehorn agent.”

“Yes.”

Jenkins shook his head. “And my successor would kill the eighth sister?”

“As you said, Charlie, Russian interrogation techniques can be brutal. The remaining four sisters have risked their and their family’s personal safety to provide sensitive and important information.”

“So, tell the director to get them out. Russia is no longer a closed country. Have the remaining four sisters travel to Europe or have them travel here.”